Dammit, he’s right.  I hate being a chickenshit.  But I also shouldn’t have to do all the work.

And I really do think people are playing jokes on me when they say some things, like they want to fuck me, or I should do things on webcam, because who would want to see me?  [This is NOT an invitation for compliments!]

Altar Boy called.  We’d not talked in a while, but it was nice to hear from him.  It had been a period of guys coming out of the wood work.  The nice thing was that the guys who emerged were guys I actually wanted to fuck again.

I met him and his friend out by the taco truck.  Then I took them up to the roof.  As is inevitable with me, the topic of sex came up in some capacity.  I assumed Altar Boy explained to his friend how we knew each other – met through Twitter, fuck – and geared my conversation accordingly.

Then they asked to see my apartment.  Altar Boy had already been in my place, several times, and really, it’s not all that, so I suspected this was some kind of ploy.  My place was a mess; I was embarrassed to have them see it.  Nonetheless, the three of us went to my place.

We were still talking about sex and being generally flirty.  It was a week day so I didn’t know if or when they had to get back to work.

I never said, “Would the two of you like to go upstairs and fuck?”  But neither did either of them say, “Let’s all go upstairs and fuck.”

Every once in a while I play a little game with myself where I don’t say what I want to see if someone else has the balls to say what he wants.  I did it the other day in a bar.  I was alone in a dive bar having a couple of drinks.  A guy sitting two bar stools over was clearly checking me out with the furtive glances of a shy guy.  I looked back and allowed some very obvious lingering glances.  The guy wanted to talk to me.  I wanted to talk to him.  But I decided I would let him move over one stool and begin the conversation.  I left without ever talking to him because he didn’t have the balls to talk to me.

The day in my apartment with Altar Boy and his friend was one of those times when I knew what they wanted, I knew what I would have done, and I decided to let them articulate their desires.  They never did.

Well, not completely.  I saw them to the door.  When they were about to leave they suddenly had the desire to see my tits.  I showed them my tits, but I wasn’t about to suggest any more if they weren’t going to do so.

They left.

Afterwords, I mentally kicked myself for not being ballsy.  But at the same time I didn’t think that I should have to do all the work to get a couple of guys to fuck me in all my holes.  I texted them to come back, but was told that it was too late, that I had choked.  I hadn’t choked, they hadn’t stepped up to the plate, dammit.

The friend texted me a few times, claiming he’d never had anal sex and wanted to give it a try.  I told him that he had make arrangements to make it happen.  He and I still have never had any sort of physical contact, much less sex of any sort.  I’m not holding out much hope.

I swear.  True story.