That Night I Realized. in Musings

i feel like all of my entries here are snippets of all of the men i’ve loved, tried to love, failed to love and will love.

luiz is still that guy that i don’t know how to fit in the puzzle of the typical man i’ve always dated.

the biggest thing that turns me off about him is that he’s so unambitious. we live in the city of dreams—if you can’t make it here, you can’t make it anywhere.

i also feel like he is ashamed of being who he wants to be, and gliding through comfort he feels like it’s good enough.

i wish i wasn’t so anonymous on here because I would plaster pictures of him and me all over.

look at a branch and see how it grows from one stick and then see how that one stick sprouts two sticks… they are from the same piece but, they are different—one grows straight up and one grows straight down.

i went to his shitty restaurant in New Jersey. I was the only gay guy…and let me paint this picture for you—I was wearing head to toe black, with a suede distressed Cavalli boot, with a long black duster under a leather jacket, while everyone wore a sneakers, pull-over hoodies, baseball caps and Ugg boots.

When I got to the bouncer, he looked at me, glanced at my ID and told me to go in, but the people in front of me and behind me were frisked. In my mind I thought ‘don’t I look like the person you should watch out for?’

as soon as i walked in i walked to the bathroom and my long duster blew behind me. i felt like the restaurant stopped as they stared at the anomaly. I was different. As I am trying to think of what my life was, why am I in New Jersey, Luiz barged into the bathroom…

he wore a tie and a white button up, he smelled like fried food and bergamot, with orange rinds. he slid behind me at the sink and kissed my left shoulder and said “wow” and he rested his chin on my shoulder and I smirked as I tried styling my hair in the mirror and I replied “what? I don’t feel comfortable here Luiz” I said sliding his chin off of my shoulder”

he just pressed against me, kissed my cheek and said “fuck everyone. i’m fucking amazed that you don’t change for anyone” he said looking at me in the mirror “you don’t give a fuck” and he held me close to him and felt the door creak and as he walked out he said “i’m out of here in 5 minutes”

I sat at the bar. and i felt like a circus freak, as people looked at me. didn’t want to sit next to me, or order near me—I was okay with guys doing this, but women did the same thing—5 minutes became 25 minutes.

as i drank my 4th Stella, Luiz comes out and wraps his arm around my neck as he pushed out the door.

i’m fucking confused by him.
i walk on the streets, shivering and without me saying anything, he rips of his coat, puts his hat on my head. I resist. and he gives me that “shut the fuck up” stare. and i listen to him.

we stop at a crosswalk and he glances over at me and says in a loud whisper, staring forward “i want to fuck you in that vampire cloak” i laugh.

as he keeps walking in front of me, like all Latino men do to claim there manliness, i order a cab ride off of my phone to my apartment, even though he wanted me to see his apartment.

he rolls his eyes at me.
he wraps his arm around me hugging me and tells me “damn Andy” biting his lip.

on the cab ride home i close the divider of the car and turn on the heat and he pounces on me. kissing me. biting my neck. i melt into him. he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his dick and furiously strokes it as he kisses me.

“let me feel those pretty lips” he says holding my face and pulling them down to him.

i refuse.
i think that he likes that i refuse him.
i don’t think he’s use to being denied.

we get to my apartment and in the elevator, I see a wet spot on his denim jeans and I say “you peed yourself?”

he kisses the palm of my hand and says “no, it’s just ready to fuck you”

in my apartment as i look around it looks like a war happened. one of my bar stools is toppled over. my clothing is everywhere.

am i just obsessed over his huge dick?
i guess, but i’m more enthralled that he’s so dominant. it’s like consensual rape.

while he pounds in me. he kisses me. he talks to me.

my fucking god he’s so beautiful. i feel crazy.
he wore black skinny ripped jeans with DC high top shoes.
he eats like an animal and still has a thin swimmer’s body, full of tattoos. his upper mouth frenulum piercing.
his ear gauges.
his right nipple piercing.
all the tattoos on his chest.
i feel like i’m obsessed with him…
but then again i feel like i love him.
then again i feel like i don’t.
then again i feel like if i didn’t love him i wouldn’t question if i did.

the way he pulls of my pants, and every time kisses the arches of my feet.

the way he overpowers me. he makes me feel like i’m weak, and he’s strong.

If I squirm under him or as he does something to me, he told me “you can be the man on the outside, i will bend, break and do what you want and say, but in bed, i’m the man, learn that” and he laughed and he looked at me angry as fuck and grabbed my face and said “Know I’m King, and you service me” and he grabbed my hair and forced his tongue in my mouth. I got goosebumps. and even thinking about it now, I feel goosebumps.

he pulls off his ankle socks. he wrapped his belt around my wrists and around my neck bed frame. in my helplessness and submission to him, as weird as it sounds, i felt free.

he turned me around and forced me to kneel up to him, doggy style. i felt myself melting through my dick.

he pushed his finger in me as i squealed, he slapped my bottom hard and said “1 don’t move or I’ll make you hurt” and i buried my head on the pillow feeling the stinging of his hand against my ass.
he squatted in front of me and rubbed himself between my cheeks and I gasped as he teased me.

he spit on my ass and slapped my other cheek even harder “2 stay the fuck still”

he pressed himself against my opening and i whimpered and felt nervous as i felt the pain of being penetrated by him. I flinched away from him and dropped my body from the position, to flat on my stomach.

he pulled my hair and made my head turn back to him, “3 don’t fucking pull away from your master” he said as he pulled my waist up with his free hand and he shoved himself in me super hard and deep that i felt like i was bleeding.

luiz held himself inside of me.
the entirety of himself.

in that super abusive crazy masochist way he ripped himself off of me and walked to my face…

he makes me do crazy, insane, things---- and he stood on my bed, and lifted up his foot to my face.

“Kiss my feet boy” he said stroking himself. I’m not into feet, or have unusual fetishes, but i felt i desire to worship him…in ways i’ve never explored.

i kissed the top of his feet as i was tied to the bed. he pushed my face with his foot and shoved his big toe in my mouth “that little boy pussy is mine” he said sternly as he climbed onto me, shoved himself in me so deep I felt like my ribs hurt.

he pounded me from 11:49 to 11:51—mercilessly as I yelped and whimpered. He ripped my head back towards his mouth as i felt his dick burning in me. he shoved his tongue in my mouth and i felt him rip himself out of me as he released all over my back…

he panted. out of breath fell next to me as i collapsed on the bed. he released me from his bondage and kissed me. held me in his arms. kissed my forehead. wiped my back clean with his shirt. “I don’t know if you like what I do…but you bring out my hidden beast” he said swiping my cheek with his thumb.

he fell asleep with me in his arm and i felt his phone vibrate under his pillow “MAMA” it said. I don’t know portuguese, but its similiar to spanish, so i know his mom just asked him for something

i swiped it open and looked through it—as a violation of privacy— and all of his album were pictures of me…

pictures of me smiling over a joke that i faintly remember the moment.
pictures of me curled up on his chest.
pictures of me looking at him through a candlelit dinner.
pictures of me going out of a grocery store.
me biting the inside of my mouth.
random, 347 pictures worth of me, me and him, me drinking, me eating.

the album’s name was “Minha Vida Grande”
My greatest loved one.

yet, all of those pictures, through his lens. and his eye…i don’t recognize myself. but they are all me. the little mole on the left side of my face. my big nose. my asian squinty looking eyes. my cupid’s bow… they are all me… but I don’t recognize but i do because he doesn’t see me how i see me…

he’s not just a waiter. he’s a photographer. a very talented one, if i looked at those pictures and felt jealous of my own self because i thought that boy he sees is far more attractive, interesting, and alive than what i see myself as. Is that weird? It was like me swiping through his album and me seeing what he sees in me. I think it’s weird…
but as an artist and a writer, i’m sure that if he read what i write about him, he would read how amazingly beautiful, sexy and strong i think he is.