Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2004 - 10:09 p.m.
Dream Date Sandwich

Monday night, our third or forth online conversation since first chatting on gay.com Saturday night, Nelson--an indescribably sexy 22-year-old Asian guy--types that he thinks I should peel my shirt off. I see him grinning impishly on the cam, and I don't need much convincing.

Off goes the shirt.

I've done this so much, eh? When it comes to my skittishness about meeting guys, there's nothing safer than cam sex. But Nelson seems really interesting--a musician and a linguistics student--and he lives right here in town. Cam sex can be hot, and feels erotically-appropriate with boys in the Phillipines or Baton Rouge or India, but when an opportunity exists for a face-to-face meeting, when it seems like there might be more compatibilities than simply sex, I'm getting increasingly reluctant to go too far down the cybersex path.

It was 11 pm, my bedtime on weeknights, and I was tired. Then without so much as a warning, Nelson yanked off his tee-shirt, stood up on his computer chair and shimmied out of his pants. Oh my fucking god. The cam picture wasn't all that clear; he mustn't have as good a cam as I do, but his silky limbs glistened, those black Calvin boxers hug-sucked his center as he plunked himself back down and grinned at me.

Nelson: sorry, jeans getting too tight

QS: I want to lick the cam :)

Nelson: you should take off ur jeans too

QS: I won't tonite, but next time k? i really have to go to bed

Nelson: you sure?

Nelson: not even another 5 minutes?

QS: to be honest, i'd rather meet u in person sometime rather that get too involved with cam-sex :) in person would be much more fun:) :) :)

Nelson: was just trying to have some flirty fun

Nelson: never stripped on cam

Nelson: i'm staring at ur nipples with delightment too. hehe

QS: :) :) :)

Nelson: i'm naughty tonight hehe, i'm usually pretty well behaved

He was being naughty, more so than on our earlier chats. My crotch got all calisthenic. But I stuck to my guns, and said goodnight to the lusciously lustful lad a few minutes later.

I lay in bed, dizzy and spasming, wanting him, wanting more than what had been suggested. Worried that he'd felt rejected, that I'd blown, so to speak, future possibilities, raining on his parade of flirty fun. Read a bit, prayed, and fell asleep.

At 2 am I awoke from a dream:

The dream's at the farm. It' s a big party for Mom and Dad, maybe their anniversary. Uncle Jim and other homophobic relatives are there. I'm on my guard. Yet I've brought a date, Nelson. It seems to be our first date. Other gay friends are there too including Cameron.

I take Nelson up above the shop, to the old hired man's quarters where I always used to sleep in the summertime as a teenager, just before he leaves. I'm hoping for a good night kiss there, at least. I seem to not want it to go too much farther than that, want to stick to my resolve not to rush into sex so quickly.

But there's a gay party going up there, to my surprise. Cameron seems to be the ringleader. Lots of alcohol. Cameron seems drunk. Then he and Nelson and I are sitting or lying down on the floor. Nelson's about to give me a kiss, I think, but instead Cameron shocks me by leaning in and giving me a big wet tonguey kiss. I love it. I love kissing Cameron again after all this time. Soon the three of us are going at it. A menage a bouche. It's hot. I start drinking alcohol with them, and am immediately drunk. Another hot young guy joins in. I am kissing Nelson and he seems to recoil. I wonder if I have puke breath. I do; I can taste it. Then I'm kissing the 4th guy and he too recoils. I know I have puke breath now. I'm horrified.

I wake up, knowing that it was a dream, that I hadn't gotten drunk. My black briefs were tented outwards, and I yearned for Nelson's silky young flesh. Like a maniac, I jumped out of bed, groping my crotch as I cranked up the computer so I could write the dream down. MSN Messenger activated automatically, and darned if Nelson wasn't still logged in! I messaged him. He messaged back. I typed that I'd just had an interesting dream about him. He said that sounded weird. I didn't elaborate. I was itching for him to invite me to view his cam again, to turn on mine as I sat there, pulsating and so much more naked and willing than a few hours before.

The invitation did not come. My hard-on wilted as Nelson admitted that he was in a strange mood. That he couldn't sleep. That he was feeling down about "men", about whether anyone out there was interested in anything other than sex. He told me he'd met someone recently who'd really turned his crank, but just a few days before our first chat, Nelson had realized that the guy only wanted sex. "I hate being used as a sex object," he said.

My erection was gone. I was glad the cam wasn't on, that he couldn't see me, because I was grinning and mystified. I wanted to tell Nelson, teasingly, good-naturedly, that he was being a bit of a hypocrite after the cyber-seduction he'd tried to pull off a few hours back. But then I broke open with a sleepy, wide-eyed smile as I thought about the flux of longing and insecurity and loneliness and creativity and confusion with which we all stand before the fire.

I typed back real words. Nelson responded. He asked if I wanted to talk on the phone. I said sure. He called me. I tucked myself back into bed and listened to him for a while. What a sexy, open voice.

It became nothing to do with flirtation, or strip-teasing, or even boyfriend-material fact-finding.

It became, briefly, two boys speaking without masks.