NSFW: Death Made Me A Whore.

I’m a big gay whore whose trying to fill the hole caused by death and here are 6 instances of my whoriness.

Lying next to someone can hold so much power. It’s truly baffling how something life changing can be lumped together with a summer fling, the body remembers. Times of devastation, like that early summer morning nearly a decade ago. I was on the floor with my mom as she died. Alone, I watched the life escape her body. And death returned last June when I was awakened to the sound of my partner Michael gasping for his last breath. He was blue—past the point of saving. Death is pure intimacy. Experiencing it so personally has created a vacuum inside of me, I am constantly searching for someone to be close; to achieve the love that was lost.

1. The abusive relationship.

For six years I fell in love with the sex, the fighting, and the craziness – that encompassed my first relationship. I couldn’t begin to count the number of breakups. I always remember the make up sex. He’d grab my wrists and hold them above my head while shoving me up against the wall of the small shower stall. He’d force his cock into me with only his spit. The pain turned us on and we were ultimately bonded by hate fucking – If it wasn’t rough it wasn’t good. The first time he pissed on me I was on the bathroom floor. He had me on my knees while he pissed all over my face with his semi-hard cock. He smirked while looking down at me. I looked up at him, eagerly. If he didn’t come in my ass, he’d pull out and come all over my mouth, covering my face. We’d clean up and lay down next to each other on our bed.

2. Party slut.

I’d play dress up and go to parties with another man. Clad in skimpy-themed costumes and makeup, we’d hit on guys, make out with different dudes, and end the evenings at his place, together. We both had the need for intimacy. I don’t know where his need came from, but we worked well together. He loved to fuck. I was more than willing to give it to him. One night after a party, we were walking back to his place in downtown Seattle. He wanted to fuck outside. I submitted to his desire. I took off my pants, he bent me over a big planter outside a dog park, and he fucked me while cars drove by. Afterward, we walked the two blocks to his house, showered, and lay down in his bed and held one another.

3. The big dick.

I used to frequent a karaoke bar. On one slow night I wasn’t feeling it, so I left. When I was about a block away, someone yelled at me — I turned back and saw a 6’4 tattooed, muscled hipster asking if I wanted to go home with him. Back at his house, I found him to have one of the biggest cocks I’d ever seen. A lot of poppers and lube later, he was edging his cock into me. He had a free spirit attitude about him that fit well with mine. He was always up for fun or fucking. We’d roller skate between bars and continue partying even after I broke my foot on the skates. He made me breakfast the next morning before my appointment to see the doctor for x-rays and pain pills. I was working his cock later that night. He wanted it just as bad as I did. We both felt equally wanted. His huge arms made me feel safe.

4. Comfortably numb.

When I was sick for eight months I slept with a man – he held me when I was sad or scared. I could tell him anything and everything. I loved him. He filled my void. He did this without having sex. Throughout that whole time we only came a few times. But out of all the men, he was the only name tattooed on my body. He came the closest to what I needed. But like all that I’ve loved, I gave up and pushed him away – I X’d him out. I know I don’t deserve to be satisfied.

5. The skinny twink.

I met a young, skinny twink with a huge dick who had a pretty hard crush on me. I’d meet him on nights when I was lonely and we’d blow each other and then I’d fuck him. It was pretty vanilla, but for a fuck buddy situation, the intimacy was thick. We’d be intertwined all night long; two pale, thin sweaty bodies locked in each others arms. That passion could have kept me with him forever. He took my favorite necklace, a pair of vintage Dior cuff-links on a chain. I’m glad he has them. I hope he thinks of me every time he touches them

6. and 7. Cheating on the boyfriend.

I met my first New York boyfriend on a radio show I was doing with some girlfriends. I was explaining the Iphone app “Grindr” to the girls and I asked a few of the cutest guys in the area to come over – he was the hottest. When he came over I was shocked at how sexy he was. He was a tall, dark, Scot–funny, smart, and a little shy. I didn’t think he was into me. But we grabbed a drink after the show and hit it off. After a few dates we had sex on the futon and were lying next to each other, trembling and sweaty. We dated for a few months. He seemed special. He was more then a summer fling. I used to dream of nights like the one when he brought me up to his rooftop to have dinner. We looked out over the city. He came all over my face. He felt too good for me. So I fucked a DC power bottom while on a work trip. After I came we laid in my hotel room in each others arms.

Death is something that you can never quite figure out. Your sorrow and grief are a constant. I think that for me, now, so is the searching.

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