I think I’m HIV negative. I say “think” because we can only go by our last HIV test. Although I fuck safe, we can only hope for “safer sex” rather than completely “safe sex” unless we are abstinent. I’ve set my limits of what I’m comfortable doing in bed. Therefore, I’m also poz friendly. Admittedly, I wasn’t always this way. But then I met Faraj.
Faraj and I met on Recon.com, a great site for pigs. We met up later at a bar and the sexual energy ran high. We talked, kissed, and smoked on the bar’s patio on a humid summer’s night. Ready, willing and able, I asked him to come home with me, but he begged off, requesting instead another date. I’m a tall guy, but this Arabian stud was taller than me, with eyes like deep, dark wells. Watching the smoke curl from his lips make my dick jump. I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to come home with me right away. From chatting through email, we both knew that we liked the same things in bed. He was a pig and I was thrilled! But I didn’t push him and helped him find a cab to take him home. What comforted me was that he proposed that our next date be at his place. So I felt I had this cat in the bag.
On the day of the proposed date, he texted me in the afternoon, to make sure I was still coming over. I texted back an enthusiastic “Yes!” His next text, though, I was unprepared for: “I just need to tell you that I’m positive. I hope you’re ok with that.”
Like fireworks on the Fourth of July, all these thoughts popped into my head, tumbling and tripping over each other: This is why he didn’t come home with you right away on the first date – he was working up to telling you his status/He’s a good man – he’s being responsible and honest/Jason, you’ve probably had sex with countless positive men, but you just didn’t know it. You always fuck safe. Why should you feel afraid for knowing? Do you really want to live in a bubble where you don’t really know your partner’s status? Don’t punish him for being honest/He had the balls to be upfront and you know how much you love courage in a man...
But my final thought was – I can’t do it.
Instead of texting him, I phoned him. I tried to be magnanimous, but said that I was feeling nervous. He said that he knew all there was to know about safe(r) sex and that he would help me protect myself. But I begged off and said “Faraj, I totally respect that you told me about your status, and I’ve probably been with positive men a million times before, but I’m not looking for anything serious and the stakes are feeling too high. I’m really sorry.” He answered “I don’t need your pity,” and hung up the phone. I immediately felt like a two-faced, in-denial loser.
Half an hour later, I called him back, half-assuming he wouldn’t pick up and deal with a loser like myself. But to his credit he did. I apologized for my reticence and said that I needed to reflect on my fears and biases. Could I please buy some time? And because he is a better man than I will ever be, he said yes.
This was a Sunday and first thing on Monday morning, I called the local HIV clinic. I told a very nice man the situation and shared with him all the kinky things I wanted to do with this stud. He assured me that the things we wanted to do were as safe as you could get, so go and have fun! With that, I phoned Faraj back and told him exactly what I’d done. He seemed pleased that I’d done my homework and we set a date to get together.
Was I no longer nervous? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have some trepidation. But I remembered an old adage I’d once been told by a therapist: FEAR sometimes stand for False Evidence Appearing Real. This was a fear that I had to let myself feel and then work through.
I’m totally happy to report that the sex that Faraj and I had was fuckin’ amazing. Some might take issue with this, but I totally sucked him without a condom. How risky is this? Some would say it’s very low risk, others would tell you to use a condom. I fucked him with a condom. We spit hard on each other (this man could really spit, great big gobs of it on my face and chest. Not for everyone, but spit lovers will totally get this). Lying in his bathtub, he pissed all over my jeans and wife-beater while I smoked a piss-wet cigarette and stared up at him hungrily. Looking down at me, he said I looked like the “perfect slut”. Did I mention how sweet he was? And how perceptive! He ate my cum. When it was time for him to cum, he flipped himself upside down on the couch and blew all over his chest while I looked on in amazement.
We got together a few more times before it fizzled out naturally. But this fine Arabian had brought me to a new level of understanding. With him, I questioned my own hypocrisy and fears. I learned to quiet the prejudices in my head. I set limits that I was comfortable with regarding the information out there and didn’t let fear be my compass. Younger than me, he was the Teacher, and I the Student. Lesson learned.