THAT DAY IN LAS VEGAS CHANGED ME AND MY LIFE
WARNING
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By Phil Oropesa
That one day in Las Vegas changed my life forever. I would think about it and get an erection; but I would be in denial and would try my best to think of something else only to be betrayed by another erection a few minutes later…and this one with a vengeance.
I did think about it and said to myself that I was never going to do that again. But then I would see some hot guy and I would have all these thoughts run through my mind. It is not like I don’t know what to do now…I do know what sex with another man feels like and I like it.
I know this is going to sound terrible but I actually rejoiced upon the death of my parents which happened two months apart and recently. Why do I say that? Because I always knew they were wrong. Wrong about many things, they were wrong about faith, they were wrong about ethics, they were wrong about sex. But they were the measuring stick, they were the little voice of conscience that although I knew was in error I still had to follow…it is a very strange kind of allegiance.
My four older sisters one by one rebelled against this parental tyranny…One even had a child at age 15 and left home. The other married a man my parents objected to because he was part black and because he was of a different religion.
Unfortunately they were right…not because of his mixed race or his religion but because he was a real male slut and was unfaithful to Joyce every chance he got. They finally separated and the son of a bitch will not even give her child support, so she moved in with my parents just before their death.
The other two sisters went on to college and became liberal feminists much to my mother’s chagrin. She would drill them over the coals at every family reunion…how a woman is supposed to be submissive, to “submit” to the husband and how she should stay home and raise the children…how a woman is not supposed to have a job outside of the home and why our country is going to hell in a hand basket because we have given women all these rights. Again, my mother was dead wrong and my sisters would have very heated arguments with her. My mom would always claim the “Divine Wisdom of the Scriptures” or some patriotism bullshit; once wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross, my mother was invincible.
But things were changing and fast. My father’s passing brought in a whole new set of problems. I had gone and decided to stay with my mom at least for a few days following dad’s death. My mom, who had health problems of her own, far worse than my dad was afflicted with severe depression and was having nightmares…I would go in her room in the middle of the night after I would hear her wailing…she would awaken and claimed she was just having a bad dream.
My wife called me three days after my father’s passing and said: “don’t you think it is about time you returned to the home you abandoned?” That pushed my buttons and I said: “why don’t you come over here instead, spend a few weeks, after all, the house is big enough?”
Rita: “No, never, I am not leaving my house”
Me: “I tell you what, tomorrow I am calling a realtor and you are going to leave that house and come to live over here…this house is paid for and we will be mortgage free”
Rita: “Never, not unless they carry me out of here in a horizontal position, I am not leaving my house.”
So I hung up, got in the car and drove over to our house. I confronted her once more and this time I said: “Is that your final answer?” She again reiterated her position. I then took the house keys out of the key chain and gave them to her. “Here, enjoy your house” then walked out. As I was walking out the door she said: “If you go out that door you can’t ever come back” and I kept on walking, didn’t turn around even; I got in the car and drove to my mother’s house.
The next day Rita called and said: “come and pick up your shit” So I went over there and she had taken all my clothes, shoes and anything else she could think of and put them into black plastic garbage bags…she had thrown them on to the front lawn and it took me three trips to carry over all those bags.
I felt liberated…I was so happy to leave her that my attitude changed…I slept like a baby that night and even my acid reflex went away…it was a clear indication that Rita was a major irritant in my life. A whole month went by and I didn’t hear from Rita. Then one day she called and said that I had to pay for the mortgage and the bills; but also said that we should go see a marriage counselor. I said that it was a bit too late for that…we were finished and she should have thought about being less controlling and domineering way before that.
We are still separated although she came to my mom’s funeral which was three months to the day after my dad’s passing. At the wake she came and embraced me but I pushed her away. I keep paying the bills and don’t hear much from her.
After my dad’s passing I began to go to the gym. I would wait until my sister returned from work so that mom would not be alone. It became a routine…I would get there around seven and work out for a couple of hours. It wasn’t so much the exercises but it was the fact that I could look at so many beautiful men doing what they do best: being macho. I was totally consumed by the idea of a gym and after my mom died I kind of channeled all my fears, frustrations and energy into the gym. I was now spending three and sometimes even four hours every night. After only a few months my body began to respond favorably…I had gained a total of 23 pounds and it was all muscle; for the first time in my life I would look in the mirror and see definition, solid muscle mass and I would be proud of myself.
Not only that, but I thought that if I was to attract a mate; whether it was of the male or the female persuasion it would certainly help if I looked good. But I suppose it was a bit of vanity working its way in there as well.
I noticed something peculiar that was happening to me...I was always looking at the other guy's bulges...it was like an obsession with me...I didn't do that before.
I started to formulate fantasies in my mind; some of them involving men I would meet at the gym. It was all a make believe world for me but I was getting sexually satiated by my long and involved thoughts about sexual encounters with these men. I wanted to do so much…I knew I liked fucking guys in the ass…so much better than a pussy; I also knew that I wanted to taste cum…I had tasted my own and it didn’t gross me out.
I also thought that sometime soon I should try to get fucked in the ass and find out why guys like it so much. I began with my fingers first and it felt good. Then I graduated to objects…not too big but those felt good as well. Until one day that I resorted to one big, mother fucking cucumber and I shoved it up my ass and it hurt like the dickens at first but soon I found out the pleasure of prostate massaging. I came in buckets during that masturbation.
Then there were the glances in the locker room at the gym…followed by some very obvious cruising at the showers…I got to see all these studs naked while showering at one point or another. Some of them would be sporting erections and clearly would have been available; only I was too inexperienced to know the difference. But one day it was already very late and everyone just about had gone home and there were only two people left and the attendant who always was sleeping in the office. And the guy made a pass at me and gave me a blow job; I enjoyed it but I wanted more. That was when I totally went crazy and began my adventures into that big, rainbow colored world.
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