QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Hit Me With Your Best Shot
By Steve Prince
Boop-boop.
I jumped. I forgot that I had logged in to my AOL instant messenger. Someone just sent me a message. I glanced to the right of my screen.
“Hey, man. Long time.”
The sender of the message was Poses21. Hmmm, Poses 21? What the heck does that mean? I couldn’t recall who the hell this person was. Immediately I thought this is someone I’ve fucked around with, however it’s been a long time since I’ve logged into AOL Instant Messenger. I only logged in to ask my friend a question while she worked in her office, unable to answer her cell. Poses21?
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I responded, “what have you been up to?”
Sure, I totally faked knowing him, but I’m Southern. It’d be completely rude not to know who this guy is. Seriously, my Mama would slap me silly if she knew I did that.
“Same ol’ thing,” Poses21 typed, “you can’t beat the California weather. I actually saw Rufus as USC a couple of weeks ago.”
OOOOOOOHHHH… (insert flashback music)
When I was twenty years old, I fell in love with Rufus Wainwright. If you don’t know who Rufus is then, you should find out. He’s super talented and super gay, like glitter-shooting-out-of-Paul-Lynde‘s-ass gay, queerer-than-Christmas gay, gayer-than-butt-sex gay… okay, you get the picture. He’s gay. AND, he’s amazing. I really believe he’s a 21st Century dandy.
I remember the moment I fell in love with Rufus. I had spent the night studying for a test for my Musical Acoustics class—yes it’s as boring and complicated as it sounds. My roommates had gone to bed hours earlier and it felt nice to have the quiet of the house to myself. I felt brain dead but my body felt awake. I lit a candle and put my earphones on my head. One of my choir friends had recommended Rufus’ CD.
“Listen to song number 5 first,” she said, handing me the CD from her messenger bag.
In the flicker of the candlelight, I forwarded the player to track five, leaned back, and closed my eyes. I want to say the song was beautiful, but that’s not accurate enough. In the song Rufus sang of disappointment and love. He describes looking at his love and not being able to see “straight.” For the first time in my life, I knowingly listened to a man sing about his love for another man. Moved to tears, I pressed repeat and listened to the song over and over.
Needless to say, I became a hugely nerdy Rufus Fan. Okay, maybe I became a bit obsessed. Late into the night, I scoured Rufus fan sites, soon becoming one of those fans known by their screen handle. And that’s where I meet Steve, or as you know him, Poses21. My AOL IM actually is still bigrufusfan21 to this day. I forgot that Steve lived in Santa Monica and though I still loved Rufus I hadn’t talked to him since I moved to California. So I was surprised to see his message on my computer; it had been so long since we had talked.
So now Steve’s response blinked on my screen awaiting my answer. I read what he wrote again.
“Same ol’ thing,” Poses21 typed, “you can’t beat the California weather. I actually saw Rufus as USC a couple of weeks ago.”
“Wow,” I replied. “I bet it was amazing. Did you know I live in LA now?”
“Nooo,” Steve responded, “we should totally grab a drink.”

And two days later we did, well kinda. After hearing a knock, I trotted to the door and opened it.
“Hey,” I said smiling. I motioned for him to come in.
“Hi,” Steve beamed back. I could smell trouble. The boy had freckles and he didn’t tell me he was Jewish. I can’t deal with Jewish boys—I call them HOTbrews. Seriously, Jewish men just do something to me. It’s like I just want them to fuck the Jesus outta me.
Steve sat on the couch.
“Want anything to drink?” I asked, thinking he would want water or something.
“Sure,” he said, “got any wine?”
Five minutes later, we sat beside one another sipping wine and swapping Rufus stories. Ten minutes after, Steve had his leg pressed up against mine. Fifteen minutes more and we were making out. In twenty minutes, I was pounding him like a piece of veal in New York’s Little Italy.
Let’s take a second… I have never fucked around with someone who has the same name as me. I found something out about myself; perhaps I’m vainer that I thought. It’s kinda hot fucking someone with your own name. Yes, at first it was a little weird, but we both started playing around with it and having fun.
“You’re so hot, Steve,” or “Fuck me, Steve,” or “Tie me to a chair and do a silent dance version like Nicole Kidman does in that Chanel commercial… Steve.” It’s hot right?
Some guys are bottoms and other guys are good bottoms. Steve was a good bottom; he loved getting fucked. Our bodies tangled around my bed in so many positions it felt like we were playing Twister. And then the weirdest thing happened. As I fucked Steve, he started moaning faster and faster. His face clinched up and his cheeks flushed. If Steve had been hard and he was jacking off, I would think he was going to cum. But he wasn’t hard and his hands were above his head grabbing onto the headboard.
“Oh fuck me, Steve,” he groaned. And then without warning he came.
For a second I thought I had broken something. My hips slowed down.
“No,” he gasped, “don’t stop!” And then he came even more! I couldn’t believe what was actually happening. I looked down at his cock between it’s spasms. Holy crap. I’m the king of the fucking world! I didn’t even know this happened to people! I’ve been fucked plenty of times but I never came on my own. This felt amazing!
We never did go out and grab a drink that day. Steve hung around and we had sex again, and again he came without touching himself. I felt as if I had found a new circus act or discovered someone with a cool parlor trick. We both agreed we’d like to hang out again on Friday.
Friday came and I felt ready. It had been such a long day and I just needed to get laid. My mind seemed fixated on it the entire day. This time I met Steve at his apartment in Santa Monica.
I approached his building. Steve lived in an older apartment building just three blocks from the Santa Monica Beach. The swaying of the palms in the trees seemed to cheer as I walked up the steps. I buzzed on the door and Steve came and fetched me.
We walked into his studio and immediately I took in the small scale of the space. His queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room. It looked very inviting, and ten minutes later we both were on that bed half-clothed. I usually am really into foreplay, but today felt different for several reasons. Reason one: Steve didn’t really know how to give head very well. Let me clarify, HOTbrew Steve, not me Steve. If I do say so myself, I pride myself in giving great head. Maybe I should teach Steve a lesson. Reason number two for not going with the foreplay: I just wanted to fuck Steve and see him cum without touching his twig and berries. It felt like an addiction. Even in the days since our last meeting I just wanted to see Steve cum. I imagined him cumming and saying, “Look Ma! No hands,” like a kid on a bike. I loved it.
Ten minutes later, Steve backed onto my dick like a dump truck backing up for its load. I looked down. Damn. His cute bubble but twitched from the entry. Soon we had gotten back into our rhythm. Again, like a game of Twister, we flipped and flopped all around his bed. About thirty minutes later, Steve lied on his back, his head resting on his pillow. I leaned over kissing him sweetly, while raising his left leg on my right shoulder. He bit my lip as I entered him. He raised his other leg onto my shoulder and I moved my hips faster. I raised up to fuck him fully. Soon he began to moan and gasp. I looked down. Was it going to happen again? I felt like a kid at a science fair who is about to pour baking soda on vinegar. I thrust deeper as Steve let out a moan. And on cue, he shot onto his stomach.
Uh oh. I was about to cum. I guess I had gotten so wrapped up in the moment. I pulled up and ripped off the condom just in time. Liquid shot out of me towards Steve’s chest. I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling and I sighed. Then I heard a gasp.
“Shit,” Steve sputtered. He hopped up from the bed and danced around like a kid who had just hit his funny bone.
“What’s wrong,” I asked, “are you okay?”
“My eye,” he groaned, “my eye!”
“Huh,” I asked.
“You shot into my eye,” he moaned.
Let’s take a moment. I’m not necessarily the best person under pressure. I mean, if someone falls and I see it, I might chuckle. Okay, let’s be honest—I’ll laugh my ass off. It’s not that funny, it’s just generally funny when people fall. I mean if someone really hurt or there was blood involved—then I’m totally serious… usually.
So that said, what do you think my reaction might have been when Steve told me I came in his eye?
If you guessed that I clasped my hand to my mouth trying to hide a snicker then you would be correct. Circle gets a square.
Steve looked at me. “What?!” he said incredulously, “it’s not funny.” That’s when Steve got annoyed.
“Come on,” I said trying to talk through a giggle as my eyes welled with tears, “it’s a little funny.”
That’s when Steve got pissy. “No it’s not,” he stammered, “in fact, I was so surprised that I gasped and then it went up my nose and into my mouth!”
As he said this, I fell back on the bed and doubled over holding my stomach. I was trying to say I was sorry, but I couldn’t stop guffawing.
“I-ahh-mmmm, S—-ahahahaha–we-ee-ee-ee!” I’m a terrible person and the worst part was that I couldn’t stop.
And that’s when Steve got pissed off and kicked me out of his apartment. He literally threw my clothes into the hallway. I didn’t even stand by the door and apologize. I tried to, but I couldn’t stop laughing. As I drove home tears ran down my cheeks as I kept chuckling to my self. Wow. Cumming in someone’s eye, I thought to myself. I guess it was nice to know I had some parlor tricks of my own.
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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 and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand