The View From My Knees

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In the comments of a previous post, Rustoleum asked a very serious – and unsexy – question. Let’s face it, not everything about sex is sexy. Sex is sometimes awkward. Sex is sometimes messy. Sex is sometimes painful. And, when you’re having sex with multiple partners, sex is always risky. Sexually transmitted infections and AIDS are a real problem. We all want to believe it won’t happen to us, but it can. And, in today’s world, if we’re not careful, it will.

One of the few rules Lucky and I have established is that we must always use protection with other partners. I use a condom with all of my other male partners. Every time. No exceptions. But I could do more. I don’t use protection when performing oral sex on other men or women. I’ve never given a condom blowjob or used a dental dam. It doesn’t appeal to me. It just doesn’t seem sexy.

I know that when you look at the risks my reasons are laughable. I’m going to risk my health and that of the man I love because I crave the taste of a women’s pussy? I’m going to risk a life threatening disease simply because I like the way a hard cock feels on my tongue? The short-lived benefits, however pleasurable, hardly seem to outweigh the long term risks. However, I continue to take the risks, as do my friends and partners. I get frequent checkups, and so far I’ve been lucky. I don’t want to live my life in fear, but I know I should give more thought to the risks I’m taking.

Well, there’s my response. It may not really answer any questions, but maybe that’s because I don’t have the answers. I’d like to hear what you have to say on the subject. To what extent do you go to protect yourself? What are your reasons for allowing the risks?

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In my introduction to this series, I told you that I had experienced something amazing that had changed my entire outlook on life. So far, I’ve told you about partying on ecstasy and having a sexual encounter with three men at once. While exciting and fun, these experiences did nothing to change me. The changes were not due to any particular event at all, in fact. They were a result of how I felt.

When researching the effects of ecstasy, I was particularly interested in one of the common subjective effects of the drug: the feeling that something “tremendously important” or “fundamental and positive” is occurring. Having now been there myself, I consider this an understatement. Many also describe a feeling of euphoria. I used this term myself while describing my experience, but it is not entirely accurate. I didn’t just feel good, happy, or euphoric. I felt love. I loved everyone and everything around me. I loved my friends, and I loved complete strangers. I loved nature, and I loved mankind. I could find something beautiful in everything and everyone I encountered. Amazing as they were, all of these feelings paled in comparison to the way that I felt about my Lucky Bastard.

Falling in love with Lucky had been easy. We’d only been dating 3 or 4 months when it just hit me. But then, at Critical, several months and many I Love You’s later, I felt as if I were falling in love for the first time. When I looked at him, my heart beat a little bit faster. His smile was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and his eyes looked deep into my soul. I wanted to kiss him and hold him. I wanted to be closer to him than I’d ever been to another person. I wanted him inside of me, both sexually and spiritually.

Everything I experienced that night was something I wanted to share with him. He wasn’t just a participant in my encounters, he was my partner. He plays the most prominent role in each of my memories from that night.

After our adventure with the others, we stayed awake for hours, talking. We talked about our childhoods and our futures. We talked about our hopes and our fears. I shared things with him that I’d never told another soul. Sitting next to him, watching the sun rise, I marveled at how much I could love another human being. I may playfully refer to him as the Lucky Bastard, but I am truly the lucky one. I realized that I’d found a soul mate in him, and at that moment, I wished that everyone could feel the way I felt for even a minute.

Exhausted, we packed up our camp and headed home. After our long drive and an even longer night, we’d planned on going straight to bed. But when we arrived home, we found that we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. In the comfort of our own bed, we could no longer hold back from physically expressing the passion that had been building inside of us through the night.

It’s been many months since then, and I no longer remember the details of our lovemaking. My memories play like a love scene in a movie: only hints of naked bodies pressed together passionately. But I do remember what it felt like. I remember that each caress gave me chills. Each kiss took my breath away. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through my body. For the first time in my life, I truly knew what it meant to be making love.

Since that experience, our passion has remained just as intense and our love just as pure. Not a day goes by that I am not amazed at how lucky I am to be loved by him. It seems ironic that a drug I’d been so afraid of had opened my heart and shown me what love could be. I have no doubt that my love for Lucky would be just as strong if I’d never taken the drug, but I’m not sure I would have ever felt it so vividly. That feeling has changed me forever.

I love you, Lucky.