'More, More' by Emmanuela Copal de León
More, More, Emmanuela Copal de León, 2000.

 

Pure Polyamorous Pleasure
by Steven G. Fullwood

 

I've always enjoyed a nice man in my mouth, and it really doesn't matter whether or not he comes bearing a pledge of allegiance.

And a fine, muscular ass rates pretty high on my list, too. Oh, I relish the places I've enjoyed men: bedrooms, living rooms, speeding cars, sweaty gyms, dark bars and bathhouses, moonlit parks, and even once in a bathroom at Taco Bell with a clocked-in employee. Can't (pardon the pun) beat that with a stick.

Casual sex — or better put, sex without a marriage license — is just fine with me. Think for a minute about each and every part of your body — how it responds when a man puts his hand there, and there. Then think about all the beautiful men in the world, and how each and every part of your body would benefit from the soft caress of his long, thick fingers on your face, while another set of hands travel south of the border for gifts to share. Fingers that travel the terrain and might even love you a certain way one night. On another day, you might want another man to hold you quietly in recesses of the dawn. Polyamory is a choice, one that can bring your body alive with pleasures you didn't even know existed.

"I just don't think that black men are capable of having good, monogamous relationships," Bill said. I just stared at him, thinking he must be talking about me. We had been seeing each other for the better part of two months when I decided to call it quits. I loved him, and he loved me. But our expectations of one another weren't compatible at that time. He was ready to settle down, and I wasn't ready to do so. If ever.

"It just seems like most gay black men are out to have sex, and that's it," Bill continued while we were in line at Wal-Mart. I understood his pain and frustration, even though it wasn't the reason why he and I broke up. His prior boyfriend cheated on him. I've never cheated on anyone while involved in a relationship. Never saw the need. When it was time to go, I left. Simple, right? Or is it?

That was two years ago. Obviously black men, like any other men in the world, can have monogamous relationships, if, in fact they choose to have them. I figure some brothers envision monogamy as the end all, be all to living life. But maybe, just maybe one too many may have initially pledged monogamy out of convenience, or simply changed their minds when the opportunity for sex made itself known. Or that the brother wasn't serious about keeping dick down from jump.

In the past, my needs have been met by a variety of men; each bringing their gift of love to the bountiful table lodged deep in my heart. It's hard to explain the multitude of feelings that rise to the top in my heart when I love with my whole self. A variety of men, colors, shapes, sizes, girths have made my life a veritable heaven. We've loved under the naked moonlight. We've loved in dark bedrooms, with doors shut to everyone's eyes but ours. I've loved in the open with men clustered around my sweaty naked body, stripped to the waist, pants open, breathing hard and unapologetic.

I met a brother at a club in October of 19 and 97, while I was living in Atlanta. I knew that, come December, I was on the first thing smoking outta there en route to the Big Apple. Nathan had just got out of a relationship, and wanted to be single for awhile. Me, too. We developed a mutual interest in one another. He thought I was cute. His thighs were like granite. So we called each other, talked out the booty arrangement (who does who and how often), made safer sex agreements, and in following two weeks, we were knocking boots! He knew I was eventually leaving the city. I knew he might see other people, and vice versa.

Some folk, including my former boyfriend Bill, found our agreement mildly disturbing. This confirmed my suspicions that for some people monogamy is the ideal, and everything else is, well, pathological. My thing is this: I consciously make the choice about how I will express my love and my sexuality. After years of self-abuse and not taking full responsibility for my choices, I realized being in pain makes no sense. This pain came from letting others decide how I viewed and used my love and sexuality — my family, my community and surprisingly enough, other gay brothers. Upon figuring this out, the sexual encounters I indulged in were much more gratifying and liberating.

Strange as it may sound, practicing polyamory has given me back my body. It freed me up to deal with my needs and desires on a level that required me to choose — for me. Since I was clear about not wanting to be in a monogamous relationship, I found there were many ways to express myself to and through the bodies of many men. Their warm bodies made me think of mine differently. The experiences made me love the man I saw myself becoming, through their kisses, their hugs, legs, thighs, mouth and eyes. For the first time in my adult life, I was becoming a man I could love and respect.

Sure, everybody blames gay homosexual same gender loving bisexual transgendered men for being about nothing but the booty, and in response to that, many a brother has become very conservative about his genitalia. That's cool, if that's what you choose. But it's not the only way to live. Be aware of what choices you make, be informed so you can better decisions about your life. While we live in the age of HIV, AIDS and other sexually communicable diseases, it goes without saying that one should be careful. But it shouldn't mean you should shut yourself down, whether you are positive or negative. Life is for the living, love is for the getting and giving!

So come closer. Closer. Yeah, that's it. I wanna show you something. And you. I feel you right here. And here. Now take your mind and run it up and down my...yeah, that's it, I like that. Now open your mind.

Can you take me? Can you take me and my thoughts in? I'm swollen sweaty hot with the possibility of you and me getting together and loving each other. I pledge to take you there, to that place you wanna go you know you wanna go, come on. And if you're up for it later...I got a few friends I wanna introduce you to.

 

 

Text © 2000 by Steven G. Fullwood


Original Graphic Image, "More, More" © 2000 by Emmanuela Copal de León


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