A Had a Shockingly Intimate Bate Bro Session During Masturbation May

"We made eye contact with each other while we stroked ourselves—aggressive eye contact. Longing eye contact. Victorian Jane Eyre-style eye contact."

Illustration by Lex Mason

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The thing about being a writer is that once your words hit the page, they’re set in stone. This can make changing your opinions tricky, since readers love to point to your past work as if you’re some kind of literary time capsule. But people (including writers) grow, change, and develop new perspectives, or at least, we should.

However, sometimes the permanence of words isn’t all that bad. Take my chapter on ghosting culture in Boyslut: A Memoir and Manifesto. I write that I no longer ghost out of cowardice. This is a good thing, because, truth be told, I’ve wanted to ghost people more times than I can count—probably like half of Brooklyn’s population. But I don’t (excluding extenuating circumstances), because I want to be a man who practices what he preaches (and feels morally superior).

Which is how I ended up in one of the hottest bate sessions with a DL prince yesterday. As you might have caught from my Grindr blog post, it’s Masturbation May. This MM, I wanted to focus on mutual masturbation (aka sides, bate bros, spanksters, gooners, etc.). So when this Grindr guy with a big, ol’ donkey dick asked if I wanted to bate together I said sure (even though, originally, I was looking for a fat ass).

He was on his way home from work, and said he could stop over on the way to the train. He confided that he was DL and that after we came, he’d like to get out of there. He also said he doesn’t like to be jerked off but likes to jerk a thick cock while he strokes his own. (I presume this is the sole reason why God gave us two hands.)

This was all fine by me. I had to get back to writing erotica and was hoping, after I came, I’d no longer be hard at my desk—a distracting albeit necessary part of my profession. I told him I’d leave my door unlocked, be naked in bed already stroking it, so we didn’t have to partake in any small talk. Come in, drop trou, jerk, bust, and continue on with our merry day. He simply responded, “Thank you.”

Ten minutes later, I heard my front door creak open. He took off his shoes by the entrance—good boy—and cautiously walked into my room. His eyes widened. He seemed confused, which confused me as I was doing exactly what I told him I’d be doing. There shouldn’t have been anything surprising. But when he dropped his basketball shorts—my kryptonite is big-dicked DL guys who freeball in basketball shorts—I realized he wasn’t shocked, he was just taking in the view of a burly man with a thick cock (which perhaps was shocking).

He lowered his shorts, and his dick flopped out. He lay in bed next to me while I raised my bedframe. (I bought a raisable bedframe to help my back, but now I predominantly use it for sexy time.)

I squirted some lube on his dick and reapplied some to mine. We made eye contact with each other while we stroked ourselves—aggressive eye contact. Longing eye contact. Victorian Jane Eyre-style eye contact. Once we were both hard, we scooted closer to each other, our thighs touching. I grabbed his free hand and placed it on my dick. We sustained eye contact the entire time, though both of us were looking at our erect members through our peripheral vision.