Photo-Illustration: Marylu Herrera
This week, a single guy gets action at the gym, at the club, and on a date: 31, single, Brooklyn
DAY ONE
7 a.m. Wake up, horny as usual. Last night, I was on Twitter (I can’t call it X) too late, scrolling on my X-rated alt — and discovering that a friend also has a secret alt. I passed out before I could jerk off, so I edge watching his clips now. I love finding out about my friends’ sex lives. I don’t come, hoping that something happens later this week with a new guy I’ve been seeing, Greg. I get out of bed.
8:30 a.m. Text Greg about getting together this week. We’ve been hanging out casually for a few months. We’re both tops, so sex has been tricky. I finally bit the pillow a few weeks ago, and it was … fantastic. He was attentive and knew exactly what to do to me.
Greg asks me if I want to go to the nude beach this weekend, but it’s the anniversary of my mom’s passing, and while I can compartmentalize like the best of them, I don’t know if being on a beach with my dick out is the best way to process grief. Or maybe it is. I leave the door open.
Noon Get dressed for the office, debating going commando to give myself a thrill throughout the day. I hate wearing underwear, but I settle on jeans, so I put on a pair of white briefs, the second-hottest thing to going commando. I commute into the office, checking out all the hot men on the subway platform: my favorite hobby.
My job has an erratic schedule, always determined by the events we have going on. I mostly work from home, but when we’re leading up to a busy period (New York Fashion Week, holidays, etc.), I go into the office.
10 p.m. Home from work. I don’t jerk off.
DAY TWO
7 a.m. I wake up and stroke my morning wood. My chronic back pain is acting up. I guess it got out of whack during a workout. I hate getting old. I text Greg, who advises me not to work out.
I really like Greg’s drive. He left a high-level government job to create his own consulting firm and has already achieved so much in a short time. He’s disciplined and balanced but loves to have fun. He turns me on so much. I initiate sexting, but he’s not good at it. I tell him that I’m hard and want him to top me again. He responds with “I will” and hearts the image of my hard dick. Okay, he hates me?
11 a.m. Heading to manage a late-night event. Hot bulge on the subway platform. I try to cruise, but nope.
5:30 p.m. Barry’s. There’s a hot guy here who might be gay. I cruise him between sets, but he isn’t into it. He’s straight, or I’m the ugliest man to ever walk the planet. I’ve been working out more, mostly to get sexy men’s validation. Not for health reasons, although that’s what I tell people. I hate when people say working out is like therapy. You know what’s like therapy? Therapy.
6:45 p.m. My Barry’s location is near my gym, so I use the steam room after class. I cruise a guy with a small penis but a gorgeous ass. We take our cocks out from our towels and jerk a little. I’m barely hard before we get interrupted, but we exchange numbers in the locker room. He tells me he’s been checking me out for months, so I get my confidence back.
8 p.m. I text Greg about the guy. We love discussing sexual encounters.
9 p.m. Read in bed until I get horny and go back to Twitter porn. I check out my friend’s page and bust to a video of him jerking off in his outdoor shower. His bush looks amazing. I’m glad that, culturally, bush is back.
DAY THREE
7 a.m. My back. I can barely move. I book a massage appointment.
10 a.m. Stoned, picking up dry cleaning, and spending money on things I don’t need when I run into a friend from college. She’s very pregnant. I ask when she’s due and she says “tomorrow.” This throws me for a loop. When did we all grow up? I guess I have back pain, so that makes sense?
Noon Greg texts about Saturday. We’re going to see each other, no definitive plans. I want him to come over and top me. He’s so attentive and passionate.
4 p.m. My masseuse is handsier than usual. He says I have a beautiful body and he can tell I work hard. I don’t know what to say to the compliment. I’m flattered. I text Greg and he tells me it’s true.
6 p.m. Meet a girlfriend for drinks. The straight men are out today. Bulges in suit pants. DREAM. A beefy man passes and I want to THROW myself at him.
10 p.m. Jerk off thinking of the masseuse.
DAY FOUR
10 a.m. Tennis in Bay Ridge. I call it my sex tourism because I check Grindr while I wait for my lesson. It’s a lot of headless torsos and discreet guys, so I don’t engage. Some guy in the subway has a full erection through his jeans. I love bulges so much. While playing, I realize my back doesn’t hurt anymore. That masseuse was a miracle worker. Maybe he’ll jerk me off next time …
Noon Greg suggests a brunch spot downtown for Saturday. We’re basically a long-distance relationship (Greenpoint and Hell’s Kitchen). I’m bummed he won’t come over and top me, but it’s okay.
4 p.m. Doctor’s appointment on the UES. Text a friend with benefits who lives up here. We meet in the park and get stoned. His bulge grows and grows. I tell him and he suggests we walk through the Ramble. We jerk off a little in the bushes. I don’t come. At this point, I decide to refrain from coming until I can meet a guy.
7 p.m. A friend convinces me to go to a party in Manhattan. This friend and I always end up making out. I can’t tell if this is a dance party or a sex party. I buy a ticket and tell him I’ll meet him at midnight.
8:30 p.m. Can’t believe I have time for a nap. I set my alarm for 11.
4 a.m. I just woke up. Fuuuckkkk. Furiously text my friends and apologize. They’re leaving the club. I’m so mad at myself. I wanted to make out with boys. Text Greg. He’s still up. He responds that he and his friends are just leaving a cruising bar. It turns me on to think of him in a dark room. I smoke to go back to sleep.
DAY FIVE
9 a.m. Pilates. Put on my chestiest tank top and button-down. My tits are the most evidence of my working out. I love showing them off.
1 p.m. I get to brunch first. Text Greg that I’m starving, so he should expect a big order.
1:15 p.m. He doesn’t respond. Text him that he might have pulled a Me and slept through it. I’m annoyed. I’m hungry and wanted to see him.
1:30 p.m. I leave.
2 p.m. As I wait for the subway, Greg calls. He pulled a Me. Thank God the reservation was in his name, because I won’t let my Resy be ruined by a no-show. His voice is groggy, and he’s so apologetic. When I tell him it’s okay, he says it isn’t and he really wanted to see me. He has a wedding tonight, though. He apologizes a few more times before my train arrives. I assure him it’s okay. Maybe I’m dickmatized. I wouldn’t put up with this from anyone else. It’s nice to hear someone take accountability for mistakes. I don’t think a lot of my partners have done that. Greg texts asking how he can make it up to me. I tell him to do that finger thing on my hole the next time he comes over. He says deal.
4 p.m. Birthday party for my girlfriend’s husband. Very straight. I tell my friend about the missed brunch. She’s pissed for me, and I tell her it’s okay. I think maybe I make excuses for the men in my life and don’t value myself in relationships. I’m desperate for the approval of men, especially hot ones.
8 p.m. Smoke and go to dinner with my bestie and his husband. Very gay. The restaurant is painfully straight and female.
10:30 p.m. I see an Insta Story of Greg at the wedding, dancing his face off. I send it to him and say “You are ridiculous” and he laughs. He apologizes again and tells me the after-party for the wedding is in my neighborhood. I tell him I’m going out with some friends. He asks me to update him.
Midnight Meet up with my friends at the cruising bar. Why are there so many twinks and women? Maybe all the hot guys are in the dark room. It’s empty. I go back to the dance floor, do some K, and dance.
1 a.m. The club has gotten gayer but still not what I was hoping for. As I leave, I run into Greg. I’m so surprised. He tells me he guessed I would be here and asks if I was leaving. I say, “Not anymore.” Shirts come off. Kissing. The rest is a bit blurry … good blurry.
2:30 a.m. We head into the dark room. I love public sex. (Part of the fitness journey.) Greg tells me how sexy I am and that my confidence is such a turn-on. I repay him with a blowjob. He says he wants to watch me fuck a bottom in the dark room. Don’t have to tell me twice. I find a guy and he sucks me off. I try to fuck him, but he’s too tight. Greg laughs and tells me I’ll have to do a lot of foreplay to open him up once we eventually fuck.
3 a.m. Starting to crash. I suck Greg off in the dark room and swallow his load. We make out and he tells me how into me he is. Aw, swoon!
DAY SIX
1 p.m. I wake up, rock hard. When’s the last time I came? Send Greg a video and he responds with his own. We plan to see each other this week.
I laze about and do my back stretches until the afternoon. Today is the anniversary of my mom’s passing. It’s been five years. While it’s tough, I’ve compartmentalized my grief. Texts and calls come in. I respond with platitudes. If I open that part of my brain, I’ll crumble. And I’m too tired.
4 p.m. Head to a play with a new work friend. I can’t tell if this is a FWB situation, professional situation, or a friend situation. I broach sexual topics, and while they’re mostly returned, it feels like an assessment. I think one more hang will help. I try to grab drinks after the show, but he isn’t picking up on it.
8 p.m. It’s Stoned Sunday. I prep some food then edge on the sofa. A former FWB texts me and asks me to come over. The sex with this guy is incredible, but he gets possessive. The last time I told him I couldn’t come over, he blew up. I think enough time has passed, so I go. We fuck like old times, but I keep a distance. No lovey-dovey aftercare.
DAY SEVEN
7 a.m. Back to the work week. I’m thrilled to be in a routine again.
11 a.m. Gym. I love going off hours. Better cruising. I do my lift and a guy catches my eye. He’s tall and lean, not my usual type, but he’s bulging hard in his shorts.
Noon Hit the steam room hoping for edging or sucking. It’s empty for a few minutes until the guy from the gym floor comes in. We both get hard under our towels and jerk off. Before I can come, we’re interrupted. The vibes of this new guy are putrid. He wants to get something going, but he’s so obvious. I think gay hookup apps have taken away the art of cruising and the magic of subtlety. His head is like an oscillating fan on high speed, scanning the two of us. It’s weird. I go to the showers, blueballed yet again.
5 p.m. Tell Greg about the steam room and he says he was fingered in his steam room by a daddy and that it made him horny for me to top him. GOD IS GOOD ALL THE TIME.
6 p.m. Via text, I’m upfront that I want to top Greg but am willing to be a bottom too. I love submitting to him.
8 p.m. Try not to smoke during the work week. It helps me curb my compulsive eating and jerking off. Thinking of Greg fucking me reminds me that I’m probably too tight for our date this week. I got a set of toys to open me up, so I tease my hole while I edge. It makes me horny, but I’m a brave boy and don’t come.
10 p.m. Text Greg good night. He responds, “Good night, sexy. Sleep well.”
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