QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!

Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears–Oh My!
By Steve Prince
“So how old are you”, he typed. “I’m not really into guys 25 or up.”
“I’m 24”.
24…24?…24!!!
I actually laughed when I typed it. I’m 29, which to ME isn’t that old, but to a 21-year-old college guy — it ain’t young. I don’t usually lie when I hookup with a guy, but you should have seen his picture…so cute.
Hey I can’t be faulted. I had been stressed out at work and I just wanted a nice long blowjob. The kind you see Alan Gregory give…you know where the guy’s dick is literally shining like a Christmas star because it has been made so wet by the other fella’s mouth. Sigh. And Tyler wanted to give it to me, so there ya go. Yes his name was Tyler — my nephew’s name. I have no shame.
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” I type.
“Tight dude,” he responds. “Call me when you’re by the Student Union and I’ll meet you.”
Tight dude? I actually didn’t know people still said that. I grabbed a hat as I ran out the door. Hats make me look younger. Oh God, what am I doing?

So I go to meet him at UCLA where he is a student. As I drive through campus I look around. It’s like I died and went to Sean Cody heaven–so many hot young boys. It wasn’t just that they were beautiful; they were confident, effervescent, and they glowed with an enthusiasm I had not seen in the clubs of West Hollywood. As I drove on, their smiles sparkled along the sidewalk, while their strong jaw lines bobbed up and down in the college crowd. I felt overwhelmed, excited, and a little scared — like Carnie Wilson in a donut shop. Let’s be honest, I was jealous.
I parked my car and called Tyler.
“‘Sup,” he answers.
“Um,” I say taken aback. I thought people say ‘Sup only in beer commercials.
“I’m here…dude,” I added. My “dude” sounded so forced. It reminded me of my junior year in high school when Rachel Parkson asked me if I wanted to “munch her muffin” and gulping I said, “Yes, that IS an option.”
I had forgotten what the men in college are like plus I am at UCLA. Needless to say — total sausage fest. Standing outside of my car waiting for Tyler, two gorgeous men with swim team jackets passed by me. My knees buckled a little. Ten seconds later, four male tennis players dripping with sweat walked by me. If someone gave me some lube or hell, even a tub of Crisco, I think I could have dropped my pants right there and just beat it in front of Jesus and everyone.
Then across the distance I see him. Oh my God. He’s prettier than the picture he sent me. Which, by the way, looked like a high school prom picture with the girl blacked out. All I could see of her was her dress — which was real cute, a pretty blue thing with a lil’ bit of sequins. And then he had a tie that was just an off color of the same blue. I bet they had the best time — OKAY FOCUS STEVE, FOCUS! Deep breath. He’s gorgeous. Like Abercrombie & Fitch gorgeous — all right maybe I’m exaggerating. He’s not OLD enough for A&F; he’s Hollister gorgeous. That’s legal, right?
Why was I nervous? I have hooked up with guys a couple of times. Okay, a few. All right, let’s be honest. I’ve carried more passengers than Greyhound. The point is I don’t get nervous.
“Hey man,” he says as he awkwardly looks at my outstretched hand.
Why am I shaking hands? What is this a business deal?
After our bumpy hellos we walk across campus mostly in silence because he is all the while texting on his Iphone and giggling. What am I getting myself into? Just when I think I should make up an excuse and turn around he looks me up and down.
“You look cute. I like the hat,” he smirks. I KNEW hats make me look younger!
Suddenly he was talking non-stop and basically giving me the college tour. He pointed out what buildings were where. Where he had class and where he worked. I wasn’t used to small talk. I’m at the age where we just get to it.
As we walked up the steps of a beautiful building he says, “This is my office.”
“Your office?” I was confused.
“Yeah,” he smiles proudly. “I’m in student government.”
Well, shit the bed. I think I’m about to get blown by the student council president. How am I going to live up to this? This is a gay man’s fantasy. I mean THIS is pressure. I have been out of college for almost 10 years, but I have to do this, for me and for all the other dorky, comic book loving, gay men out there who dreamed a dream. DAMMIT! Now Les Miserables is in my head. FOCUS Steve. Think masculine thoughts. Jeez, this guy probably doesn’t even know things like Judy Garland plus Carnegie Hall equals magic. Or that Stonewall is not about a stonewall.
We walk into his office. It’s a piece of shit room and the floor is littered with Gatorade bottles. On the desk is a can of Axe Body spray. Really?
“Sorry for the mess,” as he takes off his backpack and chuckles “We had to meet here. I don’t think my fraternity brothers would understand if I brought a GUY home.”
Somewhere…sometimes…life gives you magic. When you’re a fat boy of five years old, it’s McDonald’s French fries. In high school it was drinking cheap beer on the bed of your best friend’s pickup truck looking up at the black velvet Oklahoma sky scattered with stars. When you’re a gay man pushing thirty and you have to run for 2 hours on the goddamn treadmill just to lose an ounce so you can show your face in the summer for swimsuit season, it’s frat sex. Excuse me…Hot, fuck-me, group frat sex.
This was a moment. I imagined an 80’s movie where a crowd would be standing around me applauding slowly and then faster and faster. Finally in a frenzy, they would throw me on top of their shoulders and chant, “FRAT SEX! FRAT SEX!” I would yell, “Yeah!” and throw my fist in the air as the frame freezes. Sigh. There is a God people — and he’s gay. Real gay.
Tyler immediately turned toward me and grabbed my junk.
“You’re not hard already?” He asked almost disappointed.
All right…okay. THAT is NOT a problem for me, but come on! I need a little incentive. A kiss, a little body contact — things change from when you were 21. I looked down. His dick looked like a mother fuckin’ redwood under his gym shorts. Ah I remember when just the thought of sex made you harder than the walls at Fort Knox. I didn’t answer but gingerly kissed his lips and then ever so slightly directed him below. Yeah, I’m subtle like that.
And then it happened. The nerves, the self doubt, the feeling that I was WAAAAY too old to be doing this, vanished. As he took me into his mouth I realized…
Young people DO NOT know how to suck dick. Period.
Okay, okay. Some young people do know how, but in my experience most young people need just that — experience.
I will spare you the details, but let’s just say there was dry mouth, awkward pulling, and (get ready) teeth. But in that moment I realized, I SO know how to have sex. I mean this is something I’ve been doing for years. I totally had the advantage, and I’m showing this little twink how daddy does it. I was empowered. I was confident. I was hurting — it felt like a baby calf was trying to breast feed from my penis.
I sat him on the couch, pulled down his pants, and right then and there I taught that boy a lesson. I sucked his cock like a fat girl lickin’ her fingers after a fried chicken dinner. He was moaning and squirming. He kept murmuring, “Oh My God” or “Holy shit dude”. I was so into it, I didn’t even care that he called me dude. It was empowering to see him completely taken aback and turned on. He was off in his own world; his eyes were literally back in his head.
“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned under his panting.
Okay, just give me a second to fi — What? I just got started! I hadn’t even begun to focus on his balls! And the tain’t; he doesn’t know about my tain’t work! He hadn’t even seen the two-hand finale! Dammit! I am not finished! Teacher is not done with his lesson.
He started to groan and I came up for air just as I felt his shaft start to spasm. He shot like a canon at a Boston Pops concert on the 4th of July. I sat there resting my head on his leg until his body became limp. I was a little bit disappointed but honestly I felt proud. I was glad to be me. Glad to be almost thirty. Youth is hot, but I forgot that when I was twenty-one, I didn’t know shit. I was barely out and sex was fun, but it was more like race to the finish. It’s true what they say, sex does get better with age. It’s more about the experience now, not just the cumshot.
“You’re kinda of a bear. I mean, a young one,” he said. I think he knew I wasn’t 25. “But that was the best head I’ve had in my life.”
But…? What about AND. I’m a bear AND that was the best head you’ve had buddy. And for the record it was two minutes. Come on, you don’t even know head. I felt like my grandfather when he would start out a story, “In my day…”. Still, being a Southern gentlemen, I just smiled.
“Yeah,” I replied stating the obvious. “I’m hairy.” I looked over at his desk and saw a birthday card. “Oh was it your birthday?”
“Um,” he blushed. “That’s actually my brother’s card. To be honest, this is his office. I swiped his key from the fraternity house.”
“How old ARE you?” I asked.
“Oh don’t worry,” he assures me. “I’m a freshman. I’m 18.”
Jesus. I quickly dressed and we said our awkward goodbyes. Maybe it was just awkward for me since I wasn’t too sure if Tyler was legal. Prison was not for me — although I would be AMAZING in prison. If my Southern ancestors could rebuild the South, I could surely be the best bitch in Cellblock 7. I could even do a number from Chicago for my prison-husband and all his other friends who would probably have their way with me — but today was not the day to find out. I put my hand on the doorknob.
“So thanks for the head guy,” he paused. “I feel like I was a bit…uh…lacking”
I turned. Maybe it was just me or maybe it was what I wanted to see, but in his adorable little jailbait face I could see gratitude and almost…respect. It was all worth it.
“No worries,” I said. I leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “Just pay it forward.” Yes. I actually told him to pay good head forward. HA!
As the door clicked shut behind me I paused and smiled. I took in a deep breath and sighed — taking in the aroma of sex, sweat, and Axe Body spray.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles-he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds & The Birds