It’s Love Week with Ray: Loving A Fuck Buddy (Or Two Or Three)

It’s Love Week with Ray: Loving A Fuck Buddy (Or Two Or Three)

Can you love a fuck buddy and still stay fuck buddies?

Sure you can.

Once or twice, you’re sex mates. But when you continue to enjoy one another, the third, fourth, and fifth time, even more passionately than the first, you’re closet lovers with no baggage.

So what’s so wrong with that?

Like I told you earlier this week, I’ve had a partner for more years than most str8 marriages have lasted, but how many of us with a long term other half – str8 or gay – get the attention or affection or just plain sexual release we still crave after the blush is long off the rose? Maybe that’s why – no, I know for sure that’s why – we attempt to find all that in the arms of a stranger we barely know, and being selfish about it, not wanting to lose whatever we have in a relationship that still makes sense – financial security, companionship, or just plain someone to argue with. Whether it be at work, on vacation, off the web or in a whorehouse. As long as it happens and the chemistry is there.

If you’re like most sexually active guys, rolls in the hay come and go like yesterday’s news, but there are a handful of men who forever linger in your memory bank, like the dozen or so iconic furry men I ever slept with that I talk about in my memoirs, “Journal of a Furry Man,” (available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.) Back when I lived in New York, I had a trio of regular fuck buddies, two of them partnered like me, but down here in Teflon Lauderdale, most guys, even those you really like or say they like you, turn out to be one fuck wonders. So that’s why I’m surprised that just in the last year or so I’ve been able to develop continuing relationships with three objectively handsome guys, all about my height, and all essentially into oral sex, who when we’re together are as passionate as first time lovers.

BTW, as a local sex and love advice columnist put it, ”There’s a mistaken tendency to believe that penetration is the only act worth performing … part of the wonder of sex is discovering your partner’s body ..”

Top on my A list is fifty something Ted, a very furry, beefy, regular guy with an impish, boyish smile, a high school drop-out from Tennessee, who served in Germany in the Army, where he got his GED and fucked around in Berlin where he went from being a neg country boy to a poz one, then came back to work for a car dealership in North Florida. He soon got the itch, like many who long for the warmer weather and breezy lifestyle of South Florida along with the liberal benefits for HIV poz guys, and moved to Lauderdale where he got hooked on meth. The first day on his new job, he was so wired he barely finished his first sale when they gave him the boot. It was soon after, three months behind on his rent and ready to be evicted, that Ted, oblivious to his pressing reality, reached out to me on Manhunt. “I think we could have some fun,” he wrote.

He was dead on right about that.

Funny how you know whether you click with a guy within three minutes of meeting him, and both of us, maybe because we were kinda clones of one another, fell for each other in a blink. The furry beefy bodies we rubbed and stroked and licked, the hairy manholes that made my rim chair a throne of pleasure, nicely proportioned cocks and our laid back demeanors made it all deliriously delectable. And it remains that – yes, as hot as ever – almost a year later. Ted now works as a security guard for one of the universities and could be drug tested on the spot at any time, but whether at my place or the one bedroom he rents in a house just ten minutes from mine, the lust is as strong as the first time we laid eyes on one another. Ted’s no dummy, but I’m continually amazed by so many guys I encounter down here like Ted who, at an age when I was eyeing retirement, have virtually NOTHING, and view the future with a blank stare.

Ever have a guy with a body as tight as a drum and not an ounce of fat anywhere on him? Huh? Well, that describes Matt, my fuck buddy who’s a very close second to Ted who I met on nastykinkpigs. Uncharacteristically furry for a Columbian, a six-day-a-week gym rat, and an educated fuck, he’s a physician assistant who left Southern Cal for South Flo and is preparing to take his P.A. exam for here. A flicker? You know, a gay guy who always thinks the grass is greener elsewhere? Maybe, but who cares?

Jet black hair with matching eyes and a hot goatee, Matt has a tight furry hole I could lose my tongue in, and have a few times He’s 42, and likes his daddies (he lives with one), and thinks I’m the hottest daddy he’s ever bedded down with. Should I complain coming from a guy who’s old enough to be my son?

Fuck no!

The most elusive of my current trio of fuck buddy/lovers is Doug, who’s an exec at a local advertising agency. The first time we connected off Adam4Adam, he was so aggressive the instant we entered my bedroom, I threw him out. A month later, he hit me up again, apologizing but blaming lust for his behavior, and I reluctantly agreed to give him one more shot, but with the some cautionary advice, “Let’s take it slow this time.” And that made all the difference in the world.

He had just turned 50, about five eight, smooth, with rugged good looks and a shock of sexy steel gray hair, but when I rubbed my fingers across his chest and down his abs, I felt stubble. “Don’t fucken shave if you want to see me again.” He hasn’t, and while not as hairy as me has enough fur to keep my fetish – and cock – very happy.

Our sex is mainly frottage, he playing my coach, the two of us in jock straps and cut away tanks, working one another’s super sensitive nips that are hard wired to our cocks, his a bit bigger and thicker than mine. But outside of what he does for a living – “”You have a real job,” I told him – – I know little else about Doug, and I wonder at times if he’s married – to a man, or maybe a woman, maybe even has kids – but it’s not my business to pry. After all, we ain’t exchanging diamond studded cockrings. All I know is, like clockwork, I’ll get a text from him around six on a Friday night checking to see if I’m free and end up playing till 1 when he claims he has to leave to walk his two dogs

Yet my liaisons with this elusive fuck buddy/lover are hotter each time we connect, and I think it was after the fifth time that I jokingly quipped, “You know, I usually get bored with a guy after the second go-around. But, you, you keep it interesting.”

“Ditto,” Doug replied and it’s been “ditto” eight times since.

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