The costume changer

I found Alan while he was wearing purple cap covering his neatly pushed back long hair and super short shorts, glitter evidently left on his face as the aftermath of a supposedly previous night party or in short, all of the indications that he belongs to the fashionable hipster generation that might not be familiar with my kind of existence.

We talked for a while and I could sense a very strong presence of femininity, which is what I’m naturally getting used to with Koen right now. Oh yes, I do find it pretty charming to some certain extent now, which means that I’m growing fond of him. I did ask Koen, after we went for a bicycle ride yesterday and held hand as well as pulled my first scene of public gay kiss, to be my boyfriend but he skilfully dodged the question, saying something about our “platonic” relationship.

Back to Alan, yes, he was a bit feminine. But aren’t we all? And I did find his piercing and the way he talked and marvelously used his body language amusing to observe. He told me about all of his crazy parties where he came dressing up in costumes like Edward Scissorhands’s with such youthful excitement written all over his face. We had a glas of wine at my place and then I showed him the room.

Since Koen has opened that fateful gate of our status with that massage boy, I couldn’t look at him nor trust him the way I used to anymore. All we shared is non-platonic, as he implicitly said. Maybe that’s why I came to Alan.

With Alan, I’d never felt this good like I did with Koen after a while. After around 30 minutes, my bed was left cracking with its leg loosen. Traces of our sweat lingered in the bed sheet, the pillows, even my walls, where I had to hold on to while jamming my cock faster with every heart beat into his mouth and his manhole. The last time I had sex with Koen, he didn’t come.

“Why can’t I make you come?” I asked Koen after 20 minutes doing anything I could think of.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t even make myself come so…” Another ambiguous and perfectly maturely handled answer from Koen, one that could be interpreted in many ways that hurt but don’t give you reasons to leave.

We were lying in our own mess, whispering heavily as we watch the fan on the ceiling moving slowly. Alan kissed me. I kissed him too.

It’s been too long since this room sensed the physical aura of a human being other than me myself. The last time a guy laid his head here was in March, 2013, with Matt, the Chelsea Hotel one. The one before that was Ben. And Minh.

And now I guess Im going to bed with Alan’s scent left on my pillows just like Matt did 2 years ago. If it’s gonna be a rough ride, I don’t know. But I guess, considering the fact that Koen and I are falling apart, I guess this is the road I will take, at least temporarily, in a few days, till the fantasy of things that could have been and might be between me and Koen goes away.

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This entry was published on February 19, 2015 at 5:24 pm. It’s filed under Alan, Koen, Matt and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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