From: amz@cis.ohio-state.edu (Arnold M Zwicky)
Subject: more tales of the sexual imagination
Followup-To: soc.motss
Summary: another guy seeking out the "straight-acting"
Originator: amz@iguana.cis.ohio-state.edu
Organization: gradually increasing
Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1992 18:20:19 GMT

a while ago, jojo posted a story about a trick who was really really
into "straight-acting" guys, in particular sort of guy he imagined
jojo to be.  i have my own story, from many years ago, about tricking
with a different species in the seeking-straight-acting genus.

there were several men's faculty locker rooms at the ohio state gym,
including a pair in series.  since the second room had no outside
door, and the opening of the door in the first room could be easily
heard, and since the faculty locker rooms are not heavily used at many
times of the day, especially in summer, the second, or inner, room was
Cruise City in those days, with a large but reasonable constant
group of regulars, who recognized one another.

one regular was a guy - solidly built, very short (almost to military
length) dark brown hair, clean-shaven - who would lie on his back on a
bench in this room, hands behind his head, with a towel draped over
over his crotch, a half-hardon visible under the towel.  the
half-hardon was the bait.  he was fishing for queers.

to take the bait, you had to walk up and stroke his cock through the
towel.  then he would either toss you back, by moving your hand off
his cock, or hook you, by negotiating a trick with you.  i saw him
toss back dozens of guys.  once i saw him negotiate with a guy who
shook his head no, but i couldn't hear what they were saying.  his
face was impassive no matter what.

eventually there came an empty summer afternoon when nothing else was
happening and i decided to suppress my fears of rejection and go for
the bait.  i walked up to him boldly and grasped his dick.  felt it
harden in my hand.  he gave a little whoosh of breath and growled,
"suck it!"

"no", i said, "not here; it's too risky."  i thought this would be the
end of it, but he then suggested we should go to one of the more
isolated men's rooms in the building.  but i'd heard these were being
watched by the university cops at the time, so i told him this and
again said "no: too risky."

"you got a place?" he asked.  he had a brusque, clipped delivery that
betrayed no easily identifiable emotion.  "no", i said, "i'm married."
i don't know why i volunteered the extra information; usually that
was a serious error.  but this guy looked real interested all of a
sudden, and admitting to having a place of his own a few blocks away.
he told me to get dressed and meet him at the main entrance to the
gym.

i did this, fully expecting him to have vanished; guys sometimes got
cold feet at the idea of bringing an unknown trick onto their own home
territory.  but he was there.  he gave me a long appraising look, and
seemed not to be unpleased by what he saw.  (ok, not actually
*pleased*, but then he appeared to be one of those guys with an
emotional range that ran all the way from A to B.  [quip courtesy of
dorothy parker.])

we strode off.  i attempted to make small talk appropriate to the
occasion.  i asked him what had caused him to pick *me* back in the
locker room, hoping to get some insight into his sexual imagination
that could be used to advantage once our bodies were entangled at his
place.  "you're so straight-acting...and on top of that you're
married."  he almost, but not quite, smiled at me.

dismay filled my heart.  instant anxiety at my ability to keep
satisfying another, unknown, man's image of straightness.  (i have a
great deal of trouble getting recognized as gay, unless i have a big
sign around my neck conveying as much, but this is not because i am
some sort of super-butch, or even particularly butch at all, more i
think because i am sort of neutrally or generically masculine in
appearance and behavior.)  worse, instant turn-off at the mindset that
would find me attractive because i looked straight (while evidently
craving cock) and because i fucked women (or at least one woman).  i
realized there were only two options here: bail out now, or negotiate
acts in which my dick didn't have to perform, because i very much
doubted my ability to keep it up for a guy who thought like this.

i checked my options.  "what do you want to do?", i asked, directly.

"i fuck you.  that's it."

ok, so this was doable.  we were on.

"i *love* to be fucked.  that's fine."  quite true.  but was it
too unstraight of me to express such enthusiasm for being fucked?
was i turning him off?  should i at least have said "like" rather
than "love", and maybe not have emphasized the word so much?

on we strode.  he seemed not to favor any more small talk, everything
necessary having been said.  i certainly didn't want to chatter on in
my usual enthusiastic way; the spectre of unsuitable unstraightness
haunted my thoughts as we walked through the hot sticky afternoon to
scott's apartment.  (well, someone named scott lived in it, because
that was the name on the mail i saw.  my trick expressed no interest
in exchanging names.  i found myself passively following his
lead, and then worrying whether *that* might be seen as unattractive
femininity.  what a mine field!  what a mind field!)

the apartment suited him perfectly.  i don't know whether he had
furnished and decorated it himself, or whether he had just lucked onto
the perfect furnished den to live in.  it was a marvel of
mass-market masculinity, with curtains and bedspread in wide
cross-stripings of brown and dark blue, hunting prints on the wall,
solid dark furniture with square lines and no nonsense.  nothing
playful anywhere.  presumably somewhere in the bedside
chest-of-drawers were the copies of _torso_ and _stallion_ that scott
jacked off to when the tricking wasn't good - could it ever have been
*really* good? - but there was nothing the slightest bit gayish
to be seen.

he told me to undress and lie down on my stomach on the bed.  he
undressed himself, not looking at me while i followed his
instructions, then took a tube of k-y out of a bedside drawer,
greased my asshole and his dick throughly, getting himself
erect in the process, and slid himself into me slowly.  all
this was wordless.

i hunched my ass up to meet his body, began milking his cock
with my asshole (using my sexual skills to please my man while
his cock was pleasing me), but he didn't want that.  "just
lie still.  i'll do the work."

he got into a steady rhythm of rather gentle fucking that pleased me
quite a lot.  i could follow his ascending arousal by the depth and
speed of his breaths.  then, with one short "hunnnh", he came, and i
managed not to moan crazily the way i usually did when my lover
came in my ass.

i couldn't read him.  i couldn't tell whether he had just had one of
the premier fucks of his life, or whether he was so unresponsive to my
body and personality that he kept himself going by fantasizing that he
was a pirate king tearing at the asses of strong, muscular captured
sailors, or whether he just didn't have much range in *this* part of
his life either.

he cleaned himself up with a kleenex and told me to do the same.

i found that his fucking had made me quite hard.  scott couldn't help
noticing either.  i thought, whatthehell, might as well make a try for
it, so i said that his fucking had turned me on, and i wanted to get
off on his body.  he admitted to being willing to let me rub myself
off on his belly.  he lay down on his back, providing me with an inert
but warm landscape of skin and muscle to use.  i lubed my cock with
some more of the k-y, and covered his body with mine, being careful
(after a moment in which my lips brushed against his chin, not
entirely accidentally, and he jerked his head away from me) not to let
my face get at all close to his.

you make do with what you have.

i relived his fucking in my head, and added the image of my first
lover larry kneeling alongside us, stroking our bodies, and i came
very quickly.  then i said "thank you" and cleaned us both up.  we
dressed standing side by side; i stared openly at him (though he
attended only to the task at hand), trying to memorize the shapes of
his body, trying to divine something about the inner man from them.

it was late, and i had a bus to catch.  he offered to drive me
home, or (thoughtfully) to a corner near my house, and i accepted.
he seemed still without interest in talking, and i stayed in my
passive role, meanwhile enjoying the warm feelings in my gut.
he said "see ya" when we got to my corner, not offering a hand
to shake, so i replied in kind and walked down the street to
my family.

i never tricked with him again - though he was certainly around,
several days a week for at least a year after this, back at his old
bench in the locker room - or with anyone like him.  the combination
of an intense desire for other men's bodies and a need for a partner
who is both passive and thoroughly "masculine" is not a pleasant one.
it was a nice enough fuck - better than a dildo in some ways, less
satisfying in others (a dildo *never* says it doesn't want you to milk
it or buck on it) - but not a nice trick.

arnold