It’s one thing being gay in theory. It’s another in practicality. Pensacola, Florida ain’t exactly San Francisco.
Eight months ago we were polyamorous in theory. Now it’s real. Our boyfriend is beautiful. Well over six feet tall with very dark skin and a wide, bright smile. His speaking voice has a very high range that on the phone would be mistaken for a woman’s.
Rikki did not expect him to be interested in them. Our new boyfriend is fairly bird-like with affectations that would lead one to expect they weren’t interested in pussy. Whether or not pussy is an interest, Rikki is. The two of them are adorable together. Fucking adorable.
In many ways we barely even know this dude. He’s been our voice trainer for a few months. Sings his ass off. So far it’s just been kissing and hugging and maybe a little crotch massaging. Rikki and I fucked slowly and every time I would gently say the name of our new love, Rikki would moan. Rikki was singing like a bird. Rikki has been on cloud nine since finding out that our new boyfriend was not just my new boyfriend: bubbling and gushing on and on.
I can’t believe that he’s interested in me.
Rikki has always talked about being a fag hag. A fruit fly.
Rikki says that seeing he and I together, I am “so gay”.
You are so gay.
Bubbling and gushing.
It’s taking a little getting used to. So gay is something that as a kid in Hoboken, New Jersey was no thing to be. I aim to fearlessly embrace this, though. If I am so gay, so be it. So gay and then some. Fuck yes. How liberating.
And I get to enjoy this absolutely gorgeous feminine partner in skin, shape, voice, motherhood and wisdom.
The top of the world is a nice place to look around from.