The Last Man of Sodom

Amidst the stillness of the parking lot outside the studio, I make my way to my gleaming vintage Chevrolet Bel Air, its sparkling turquoise paint catching the sunlight in a shimmering display of nostalgia and tradition. Before I unlock the car door, my gaze drifts upward toward the sky, where cotton candy cumulus clouds float in their awe-inspiring glory, mirroring the sense of wonder and anticipation stirring within me. 

I glance down at my bright pink polo shirt -- a gift from my boyfriend, David, who's just moved in with me. I catch a few admiring glances from passersby as I start the car, the bright pink polo shirt highlighting the results of my regular workouts.

As I start the picturesque drive home, I can't help but form a bulge in my briefs, my erotic mind fantasizing about everything to come, my holy phallus leaking and dripping copious amounts of salty ambrosia in my pants.

. . . .

I finally arrive at my place. I live in an Ancient Greek-style colossus of a mansion -- everywhere you turn there are marble pillars, naked statues, and artwork depicting masculinity at its zenith.

I sniff the tantalizing aroma of herbs and spices as I walk into my home, where my boyfriend is busy preparing a meal with effortless grace and skill.

Wearing nothing but an apron, David cooks coq au vin.

"This is a first," I tell him as I smile and gently squeeze one of his hairy muscular ass cheeks.

"We can have sex after, Yair," he says, gives me a passionate French kiss, and then pours some red Kosher Italian wine in the pot full of sautèed onions and garlic. "I want to talk to you about something."

"I'd like to talk to you about something too."

As I settle into the comfort of our home, I'm eager to share the events of the day with David, knowing his warm smile will reassure me through any conversation ahead.

When we sit down to dinner, the aroma of the coq au vin fills the air, and I can't help but compliment him after taking my first bite. "This is exquisite," I say as I savor the flavors. "You must teach me your secrets."

David's eyes light up with delight. "I'd love to," he responds, his voice carrying a hint of longing. "I wish we could spend more time together."

Feeling a pang of guilt, I take a sip of the perfect kosher Italian red wine, searching for the right words. "I'm sorry," I reply, hoping to convey my sincerity.

"While I value your focus on material and physical well-being, neglecting our spiritual and psychological needs jeopardizes our overall happiness and peace of mind."

"Is that a sneak peek from your latest masterpiece?" I quip, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.

"Jair," he says, giving my muscular arm a playful tap, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Care for a little naked wrestling later? . . . Anyway, spill the beans. What's really on your mind?"

"I can't handle anal anymore," David confesses, his voice heavy with exhaustion and vulnerability.

"So do you want to give up anal completely?" I inquire, my tone gentle yet probing, as if seeking to understand the complexities underlying David's admission.

"That's up to you, I guess. We can spend more time exploring other intimate acts together, like cockrubbing and 69. I still want us to find ways to stay connected and fulfilled, even if we end up doing anal a lot less or not at all. How about we gradually decrease anal, focusing on what feels best for both of us? Our intimacy is important, and I want us to explore what brings us closer together, in ways that feel comfortable and fulfilling. Let's ensure we're both on the same page by keeping track of our anal and intimacy frequency together. Additionally, it'd be helpful if you could give me a heads-up at least three days in advance when you're interested in sodomizing me. Our communication and mutual understanding are key to deepening our connection."

"I don't know, it just all sounds so . . . dogmatic, rules-based and quasi-religious?"

"Do you remember what I told you about violent communication?"

"I do," I say. "I started reading a lot of that Nonviolent Communication book you recommended, by that guy . . . Rosenberg? But I still haven't finished it yet . . . But I'll try: When you say you don't want to do anal anymore, I feel disappointed because I would like additional chances for improvement and experimentation, but it doesn't have to be frequent, or soon, for that matter."

"Sure, but you have to prepare for bottoming too. And I'd like more frottage and 69 before we fuck."

And off we go to take a shower, kiss, make love with our tongues, prepare ourselves for another steamy Dionysian night of wholesome gay sex (frottage and phallic bonding included), hedonism, and joy.