3 years 2 months and passion still grows
3 años 2 meses y la pasion crece
This picture is from 2012, but gosh I just love these two. If a picture says a million words, then in this case, at least half of them are dirty words you can’t say around children…
Edit: These boys have names! Ariel and Pablo.
I fell in love with Andre watching him pick out produce at my neighborhood’s Farmer’s Market. His concentration, his obsession with perfect, shape, and scent was remarkable. It was actually rather adorable to see a grown man in a fine wool coat admire apples like he was picking out diamond jewelry. I offered to buy him hot cider. He accepted, and we ended up meeting for dinner.
Dating a ballet dancer has its ups and downs – and its side to sides and leaps across the room. When he is not practicing, he’s at the physical therapist; when he’s not getting preventative treatments, there’s rehearsals, costume fittings, photoshoots… busy busy!
After almost a year of this, I told Andre I thought our relationship was strained by not only his schedule, but the fact he lived on the other side of town from me. He was rarely ever home anyway so I suggested, why not move in with me? I could see in his eyes how much he wanted to say yes, to wake up in the morning spooned against me, to receive those backscratches I did so well, to allow more moments for spontaneous sex to happen. He said my house was just a bit too far from the studio to live there together. I told him he meant the world to me, and I would see what I could do. Andre looked puzzled, but his lips curled up at the corners. “Oh really big guy? Show me then.”
Five weeks later, I ushered him blindfolded into my basement. My house was built etched into a hill so the basement half jutted out into the backyard (the top half was really the main level as the driveway connected to it out front). I particularly liked this because it meant the basement had windows and would fill with natural light in late morning. I picked this time to lead Andre down there by his elegant, manicured hands. I ignored his pestering questions and guided him.
“What? What is it baby? What sort of Valentines Day present did you get me?”
Finally I halted him in place. “Not ‘get’, ‘had made’.” I removed the blindfold. Andre’s jaw dropped. I had turned one of my storage rooms into a practice studio for him, all for him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I put my hands up in a reassuring gesture, “Yes, it’s insulated, and I actually hired a woman who specializes in building dance studios. She said it’s all at professional standards, down to how slick the floor is…” but he wasn’t listening, he was just staring.
“Oh my god it’s perfect! It’s PERFECT! I can’t believe you had this made for me!” he screeched, throwing his arms around me and nearly knocking me over.
“Ooof!” I wrapped my arms around his slim, muscular waist and hugged him back. “You said my house was far, so maybe, this might encourage you to come here more often, not spend so much time at the studio all alone?”
His face was beautiful, on the verge of tears. “You want to see me so badly…?”
“Yes baby,” I kissed his full lips. “Don’t laugh, but I fell for you the day I saw you buying apples. I am in real danger of falling into deep, stupid love here and I had to show you I was serious about this relationship.”
He was still looking at everything as if he mildly stunned. I set him down and he walked over to touch the bar and admire himself in the mirror. “It’s just perfect.” Then he did begin to cry in earnest. I held him and kissed him passionately, to tell him it was alright without saying a word.
Remember how I said I knew he wanted more opportunities for spontaneous sex? We ended up christening the studio right there on the brand new floor. I caught Andre watching himself in the mirror as I thrust between his sculpted legs. I knew it pleased him, to see how much I was enjoying myself, to hear our cries mingle and echo in the empty room he’d claim as his own space. This was this thank you gift to me.
Now, we have dinner together at least four nights a week instead of one or two. Instead of texting Andre, pestering him about if we can hang out, I just stick my head downstairs and announce “dinner’s ready!” and he comes bounding up the stairs like a gazelle. He really might be part gazelle.
I have no idea what I’m going to get him for Valentine’s Day next year, but more than that I’m looking forward to one more magical year together, this time as lovers sharing the same home together. Our home.
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Text is 100% fictional. The dancer is Ricardo Santos in 2007. Source of the photo is here. Santos is a Brazilian dancer, now with the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago (goddamn!).
Oh my gosh, this is so wonderful! Such a sweet marriage proposal video <3. Not enough of these. By the way, the video is bigger if you watch it on Vimeo.
(For anyone who isn’t familiar with Los Angeles, West Hollywood is gay central and the home to LA’s most notorious gay bars. At least one of the crosswalks in WeHo is actually painted in rainbow colors. Proud to see such love in my city, fuck yeah LA!)
The first boyfriend is always the sweetest, as is the first moment he positions you above him and lets you take care of him the way you’ve always wanted.
I lift the camera up as I film the hypnotic show of the stranger sucking on Luke’s cock like it’s the last penis in the world. Luke grins at me, laughing a little, “I can’t believe we actually picked up a prostitute on 34th street!”
“How’s he doing?”
“Fook! He’s amazin’! You wun’t believe how god this feels! Keep filmin’ filmin’ I wanna remember this burthday forever.”
“Right mate! Of course! Yeah suck that cock, boy!” I shift the camera to my other hand and let the tape roll.
It goes on for another hour – blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, sex. Then we collapse in the back of his van on blankets and pass around cigarettes and beer in glass bottles. The boy was paid generously.
Five years after this, Luke was killed in a car accident when an out of control lorry struck his van. We took a lot of video together, of our trips, our stupid foolish exploits around the UK, holidays, birthdays, nights at the bar, even trips to the dentist, the grocery store. Out of the entire stack of tapes, this one is him with the prostitute is my favorite. He just looks so incredulously happy, so alive. I watch it every year on his birthday and wank one out in memory of him. We were odd friends, but it was the most solid friendship I’d ever had. I miss him dearly. I never watch the tape of his funeral.
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Post is fictional.
We’re together almost 5 years now, we started planning/dreaming to move in together, so we decided to adopt a new kitten. Rita ! Isn’t she cute?
Ya casi 5 años juntos de puro amor, empezamos a planear/soñar mudarnos juntos, así que decidimos adoptar una nueva gatita. Rita! No es tierna?
Congrats on your wonderful five years together and your new kitty!
He is mine, mine to hold, love, cherish, and ravish, and no, you cannot have him.
(This is the original poster erected and his boyfriend. In another one of erected’s posts he wrote: “he’s the best thing that’s happened to me”. Awwww.)
