true story

[suiat]

I've been writing flash fiction on my iphone and the other day this came out...it's just a very honest re-telling of a story from my final year in university. It's meant to be read aloud, and started at least as a poem, so its not very porn-y (though it seemed that way at the time). I thought it might be appropriate for this board, since the guy it's mostly about was *stacked*.

Thoroughly appreciate all feedback

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This is a story about a man. So if ya'll homophobic you can kiss my ass.

This is a story about being a gay man who acts like a straight man being hit on by a straight man in tight jeans.

"You're bi, right?" he asks me, for like the fifth time. And I grit my teeth and I nod, because being a little gay is like being a little black--it doesn't matter how many girls you sleep with, you're still a faggot. We're at the club, dancing. He's a big bastard. I was on my way home and he said, "No! Come out with us!" I don't know anyone here, it's all his friends, they're all a year or two younger than me. The rave crowd. And he goes and chats with them but always comes back to me, and he's an inch or two shorter than me but big with muscle. "You're cute," he says, and I give him the finger. Fuck you straight boy. Can't tell if he's drunk or not.

So I go home alone and don't give it much more thought, once you're bi you're a zoo animal, a specimen, a chimera, neither here nor there and you get asked "what do you want to end up with in the end?" and "which do you like better?" but neither of these questions makes much of an impression once you're in between the sheets, muscle humping flesh. In between two worlds, I get hit on by straight guys and sleep with girls who sleep with girls and I don't necessarily want to cultivate this cultured subculture of sex but seems I don't have much choice. You're either with us or against us. Where are you hiding the bombs?

Another night, another party and he's telling me about his gay uncle and his 'homosexual encounter' but he won't say more than that, he just moves his big body and shoots me that cheeky grin and we smoke weed and snort something stronger and we're feelin' pretty good. He tells me a secret and says "I don't know why I just told you that!" Akon and Lady Gaga and we're talking in the kitchen, away from everyone, and I say, "Why do you keep asking about me being bi?" and I take a step forward and he says can we go somewhere more private. Sure.

We're in my room, on my bed and my mind is whirring too fast, tweaking on booze and drugs and endorphins, we're on my bed and then two girls come in, we can't kick them out, they just drunkenly fall in and they've brought more wine and the one I haven't slept with takes her top off. So we lay there and we're drinking, talking about tits, me and these two girls and this dude, and me and the dude are holding hands under them, feeling each other's sinewy arms, and we are all a tangle, a confusion of bodies and colors and like that we sleep.

He is the last to leave in the morning.

Lingering. Smalltalk. Hangover.

Birds cheeping and I'm angry at myself for not grabbing his beefy arm and stopping him, for not saying things I could not take back.

And the moment passed, as moments pass. I tried to rekindle it but we were too gay or not gay enough and when we went out together again we went home with girls.

I talked to him about it, because I'm awkward. I had him over and he beat me at chess and we drank beers and I said, "Talk to me about the other night." Because I'm awkward like that. And he talked and the only thing I remember he said was "I find you attractive". But he kept his hoodie on. And his big secret gay experience was being loaded up on drugs and being kissed by a guy outside a club. Now he was sober. I said, "Do you want to kiss me?" and he said no. I said, "I'll be here if you change your mind." He smiled that uncomfortable infuriating cheeky smile and left. I felt like an idiot. I was an idiot. Still am.

We went to the gym after that. We sweated. We went dancing after that. We sweated. In crowds, still, when our eyes meet, they flicker. But nothing has ever happened, and, for a few years, for a few centuries more, I think, nothing will.

I don't know what fundamental truth this story reveals or what it says or why I feel like I have to say it. I've been rejected before and I've been accepted since. Maybe I'm just a bitter gay man, or a more bitter straight man, or a boy, or something in between. Zoo animals, specimens, chimeras. But we're not behind the glass, not in crates and boxes with 'this side up' and 'warning: dangerous' stamped on the sides. And we're not among you in secret, though some of us are. I guess I don't know if there's even an 'us'. They've been pushing the 'It Gets Better' campaign. Young? Gay? Confused? Bullied? It gets better.

But I've slept in a doggie pile with a topless chick, holding hands with a buff straight guy.

It gets better.

Only I'm not sure it does.

[portamivia]

God what a fantastic story, fantastically told. And you're not awkward: asking that question takes balls. And yes, it does get better. There's something heartwarming in your voice, here, in this little story, something honest and humble and yet adventurous that moved me. That's how being very young feels like, if I remember.

[2bored]

Really sweet writing. Definitely not pornographic. Not that there's a problem with porm. Mostly I come here for lightly pornographic muscle stories.

After a little tweaking, it would be publishable in the mainstream press.

[musculardad]

Awesome story, well written and very enjoyable.

[unstud]

Wonderful story, touching and slightly sad. You have a great writing voice and it comes across so well here.

It's not the usual fodder here, but it's nice to run into something like this unexpectedly.

[ydt81]

I'm really glad you shared this. Porn's nice and all but it nice to see more wholistic material occasionally. I wish there were more pieces like this around. Again, great work; I don't think I'm alone in saying I'd love to see more works of yours (porn-y or otherwise