He just doesn’t identify with gay, bi, or queer because in his day-to-day world, his social reality, he doesn’t live that life. He admits he is a man who has sex with men. Straight, yes, because he identifies with that lifestyle, with chasing women and talking about women to his boys and getting married to women. This straight-identified man who no one knows is here in this room with me - this man who people say is filled with self-hatred for not coming out as gay, bi, or queer, for living a life they deem a lie - desires me.
#Fat gay men kissing tongues full#
Stretch marks and full tits and sagging belly - who wants that? Straight and gay cultures alike tell us we should want six-pack bellies, chiseled chests, hard asses to fondle. Tongue swish and tongue lick telling me he wants me, all this mass, all this ass. The throat rumblings and mmmmms in abundance. There are no words from me, no words from him, no need for words when I am sitting on his face. Trans men and people who don’t identify as men. Men with bellies and men with ribs poking through skin. Men who sag their pants and men who wear high heels.
![fat gay men kissing tongues fat gay men kissing tongues](https://www.rollingstone.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/rs-165275-60_FatTony_R1.jpg)
I like masculinity in men I like femininity in men. I do not idealize their straight masculinity like I am told to do in queer culture. Men all masculine, all macho macho, feast on me in averted glances. On the subway in my tight pants and shirt, when going down the street in my short shorts, giving them thickboy MexiRican struts and strides, men like him stare at me. Still, I remain nothing more than a fantasy for men like him, a fantasy at night they think over when alone, or with their boys, or with their girl.Ī fantasy they get to live out when I let them. I give no fucks and that’s what they like. This femme and fat body our society tells us is not meant to be desired, that these men are not meant to want - to them, I am freedom. To see it, to hear it, to feel it on their tongue. I throw my head back sometimes, roll it around my neck, giving a bit of theatrics for him because that’s what men like him like, men on the DL or men who live straight lives but have sex with men. My hands gently gripping, gently steering him in. Rapture, a deep moaning, the clenching of his forearms. Then, it happens: The soft tissue meets soft tissue. To give him a sign that I want it and that I want him to want it. All I know is the velocity of his excitement.
![fat gay men kissing tongues fat gay men kissing tongues](https://japantoday-asset.scdn3.secure.raxcdn.com/img/store/1e/c8/2f882f9dbf970883e46f2aea0c665baef0d0/akbcandy/_w850.jpg)
![fat gay men kissing tongues fat gay men kissing tongues](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/gettyimages-688327746-h_2017.jpg)
In my phone, his name is “The Bronx” ‘cause that’s where he lives. His face proximate, his hands on my thighs or my hips or my cheeks. The arch of the back letting the ass be emphasized, idealized, idolized. It’s an art form, really, though your prude mom would challenge you on that.