talktooloose

I've been told to shut up many times in my life, but never so elegantly as I was by Tommy when we had sex last week. Furthermore, having had my tide of words dammed has never left me so confused before: is that a compliment or a slight?

I met Tommy at a sex party a couple of years ago. He's Hong Kong Chinese, late 30s, sexy in a sturdy sort of way with wonderful symmetric eagle tattoos on his shaved pubic mound and a small, elegant bear's paw tattoo on his ass. His being a fan of bears might explain his attraction to my hairyness, but we've always also connected at a real alchemical level and always delight in meeting each other at various functions. Furthermore, we're both fans of slow and sensual sex that ramps up and slows again, over and over and over. Tommy can turn sex into a massage at any moment and then move the meter back into the erotic a minute later. He's also about 95% deaf.

We hooked up at his new apartment last week and I was looking forward to a chance to get to know a bit more about his life, seeing as he has trouble hearing me in a crowd even with his hearing aids in, and dim lighting makes it hard for him to read lips. So, I arrived with a bag of Korean walnut cakes and my charm turned on, but we never got beyond one-sided small talk before he started kissing me and we started exploring each other under our shirts.

Undeterred, I tried again to use my silver tongue for more than surveying his nipples, but his only reaction was to reach up, remove his hearing aids and return to my arms. It is, I admit, someone perverse to feel insulted by someone who wants your body as much as you want his, especially since that was the reason we two got together in the first place, but I'm not used to my words not being the source of my impact.

But I gave in and took solace (took pleasure, took my damned time) in the fact that I could communicate in other, more tactile media as well.

(Context note: Snake got home last night from Hungary and has been trying to read this entry over my shoulder. I told him he could see it when it's done. But now I have to put the jet-lagged boy in bed and save tales of my discretions -- as I'm never indiscreet -- until tomorrow.)