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when i first thought of relating my frottage experience to the internet world, i remembered how it always seemed to get a laugh when i told it to the guys who thought they knew me well. of course, a good amount of humor can be very effective in dealing with the mega-challenging problems of today's sexually active men, but i see my story now more as a serious contribution to solutions that might have saved the lives of some of those friends, had i known how to divert the comic effect into a persuasive dialog on safer sex. so . . . think while you're grinning.
the era of my story is the mid seventies at the onslaught of the tyranny of a top/bottom mind set and the apparent beginning of the aids catastrophe.
it was generally known that i had an impenetrable ass since a number of well-meaning buddies had tried to coach me into being a more qualified and versatile "liberated" gay man. they used all kinds of failsafe methods from positioning me on my side with a leg hoisted up, to stuffing capsules of costly drugs up my butt. that ritual was at once, funny and humiliating.
gradually i learned to perform at a basic level, but never with enough skill to make it anywhere near a preference.
the only alternative to the "fuck or get fucked" dilemma was to use my manhood as a defense. so i naturally concentrated on my alter ego of being a drill sargeant. i was a "top" and there was no doubt about it.
this stereotype never really suited me but, if it made me a more acceptable gay man, i bought into it big time. occasionally i would come across a buddy who liked to get enough friction going between us that we could shoot our loads face to face. but that was rare and never mentioned as an intentional way of getting off. so, as far as my sexual identity was concerned, it was as the guy with the aggressive dick. but . . . what about the rest of me?!
i left san francisco during a lull in my career to seek a better life as a graphic artist in paris. that was a great plan but a lousey one for a naive 'merican on a strict budget. so when i was offered a gig by an erotic performance impressario, i jumped at the opportunity. he directed me to bourg-la-reine, a suburb way the hell out of paris beyond the end of the metro. my employer picked me up at the last station and on the way to his "theater", he told me in limited english (which seemed even more difficult to understand than when we talked at the "deux magots") about my role in his nude wrestling act.
when we arrived at a nondescript suburban house, i was shown into a large, dark room, empty except for about twenty or thirty guys standing in a circle around a floor mat stage with a spotlight as the only prop. i was motioned to strip down to my briefs, which was fine for a guy like me who would do that for free at any chance. however, i had an uncharacteristic episode of stage-fright that put me into a sort of surreal trance in this bizarre setting. but when the other guy came in, that became more of a feeling of outright terror. he was HUGE, about twice my size, with a mean looking shaved head, tattoos, and a cock down to his knees and knuckles down to his ankles. he spoke no english and understood even less.
with this obvious mismatch, and from what i could translate with my basic understanding of the language, it seems that i was supposed to "lose" the match and forfeit my ass in the finale. that did NOT do much to ease my fears so i prayed for victory.
after much heroic posturing, i was immediately thrown and pinned, but i struggled enough to break free and managed to get a few good holds in for myself. this war of wills continued for what must have been hours with only a few breaks to recover a degree of stamina. at some point i lost my briefs but that wasn't a major concern. i vaguely remember a guy trying to buy them (for a memento or for their excellent american quality?)
i finally became so exhausted that all i could do was just to lie there and try to take it like a man. i was prepared to suffer like no gladiator had ever imagined. the giant-dicked protagonist hovered over his conquered foe with his enormous frame covered in sweat seasoned with garlic and olive oil, tugging his balls and pulling at his foreskin. my instinct was to clinch my legs together to show him that i wasn't at all eager to allow what i assumed he had in mind.
an amazing change came over our act when he proceeded to embrace me
affectionately. my legs flexed tighter. then he reached down and took our dicks together and began to stroke. i joined in with the motive of getting him off as soon as possible, before he could do much damage to my reluctant asshole. we rolled around playfully like good sports, win or lose. it started to feel more and more like some familiar pleasure that i had enjoyed before. we alternated positions as we ground our cocks together. i lost my awareness of the audience as it seemed to approve of the spectacle of two tough guys caught up in a private passion. we jacked ourselves as separate men and as one. the details blur into one big ecstatic moment. after we shot our loads on our chests, a few guys came over and rubbed the jizz around 'til it disappeared back into it's hosts.
since the last train to paris had apparently left, the impressario offered us a room with a double bed. we repeated the performance many times (without the struggle) and left the next morning together as new buddies.
for the next year or so, i learned quite a bit about "frottage" from him, never once attempting penetration. i lost track of my cock-rubbing partner after i returned to california . . . the last i heard he was in a swiss prison for crossing the border in possession of some illegal substance.
wherever you are, pavel . . . thanks, man. you were the light in a forest of night for me.
dear bill,
thanks for providing such validating encouragement to those of us who have a preference for frottage. at the age of 59, i'm comfortably accustomed to accepting my own unique ideas about the distinction between erotic and neurotic behaviors. but i grin with satisfaction when i read that i might be part of a consensus after all.
from personal experience with hiv, i know the hazards of being compliant to a partner's anal urges and i recognize the importance of resisting the domination of a buttfucking tyrany. my private world has taught me to be sceptical about going along with anything but, on this issue, i wholeheartedly say, "count me in".
i defiantly adhere to my unique ideals in my sexual pursuits and that naturally puts me on the fringe anywhere i live.
my mission is to appeal to a higher conciousness (somewhere between the anus and the testicles) and i get the impression that i've found a few guys like you who give me a tremendous boost on that path.
politics and manners aside, i can honestly state that i have a true cock-rubbing warrior spirit. i'm one of those creative, offbeat guys who is completely satisfied by nonentry sex. my supply of testosterone currently ebbs and flows, but my solo sessions always, at any stage or age, include some form of frottage fantasy. it gives me an incredible amount of comfort and validation to speak openly about it. i admire your efforts to encourage it more than i can say without getting mushy.
the most important contribution i could hope to make is to encourage your effectiveness in promoting frottage. it's a deeply held personal belief that it could benefit gay men more than anything the nih could offer.
i would welcome responses to my frottage experience and the chance to repeat it with compatible buddies. i currently live a quiet solo life in rural california where contacts are far and few between.
AND
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