This is my Midnight Confession

A little bit of Gay Erotica by Author Rafael Solece...



I have a confession. I have done a grand many things in my twenty-seven years on this earth, but I had never done anything like this before. And I honestly couldn’t explain to you why I had decided to do something so risky on a night like tonight? I suppose I was lonely. At least that is the excuse I giving myself as I climbed out of my bed. Or maybe I was just horny. Whatever the reason I had talked myself into this depraved act and I knew that there was no turning back now: especially since I was already practically dressed.

I guess there is a first time for everything.

At least that’s what I said to myself as I slipped on my shoes, pocketed the two five dollar bills that I had grabbed from the grocery money stashed in the can over the refrigerator, slipped on the over sized hoodie that my ex had forgot to pack on the day that I put him out, grabbed my keys, and slide out the back door. I tip toed down the stairs like a cat burglar creeping onto some ones fire escape, quietly trying o make my get away with out waking the my unsuspecting neighbors. I don’t know why I cared so much after all it was my neighbor’s fault that I was even up. His sexcapades had been the catalyst for this midnight tryst. I was horny and it was entirely his fault. As I listened to the female counter part of that beautiful masculine figure who resided in apartment number 5, screaming and moaning his name (loudly I might add) with such Intensity. I imagined his body moving rhythmically between her legs. His hot ass checks clenching with every powerful thrust sent me into over drive and I felt my own sexual organ pulsating between my legs, begging for me to release my fluids.

Before now I imagined him some lonely down low brother secretly lusting after me; biding his time for just the right moment before he approached me in some pornographic fantasy. Of course now my dreams had all but been shattered and I was left unsatisfied and ill mannered by the entire ordeal.
Yes I had only lived next door to him for three days, but my heart was broken by the revelation of his sexual orientation. Though satisfying as it sounded, and I had to admit I was a tad bit jealous as I lay alone in my bed. He sounded like a phenomenal lover, and my jealousy stemmed more from the fact that I couldn’t watch, and not merely because of the fact that it wasn’t I lying beneath his dark chocolate body. But that didn’t stop my imagination from wondering.

I laid quietly in my bed I closed my eyes and imagined myself laying in hunky neighbor’s bed, moaning euphorically in sexual bliss. Sadly, I could only imagine the types of things that he was doing to his equally attractive miss. In my mind he was a kinky lover, and especially vicious in bed. He choked, bit, smack, and spat on her violently. And a part of me really just wanted to know if my vivid imagination was truly on point.

As their love making coursed on through the night it became infuriating to listen to them, and by the time that they had finally climaxed for the fourth time in one night and drifted softly off to sleep, I was left horny and unsatisfied by the fifth ill fated attempt by my roaming right hand to please the monster called longing in my loins. So here I was walking the street in that, the hour between late and early looking for what some would call a date, simply because my hormones had over taken me. I felt a tad bit ashamed, but there was an air of exhilaration coursing through my veins. Though couldn't believe that I was about to make such a transaction as to pay for sex. I also felt confident in my new found inhibition. I had never done anything like this before, yes. I had always wondered what it might be like. Of course loudly and in mixed company I condemned men who did such deplorable thing as buying paying another for sex. All the while secretly I had always wanted to know what it was like to do it myself. Pay for sex, or get paid for sex.

What is this fascination with prostitution that we men have?

Perhaps it was the combination of danger mingled with civil disobedience that causes us to step so recklessly into the dark of night? Maybe is it the thought of something illusive or naughty even. The sheer garishness of the act. Its vulgar, dangerous, its a dirty little secrete. Perhaps it's just the lack of having a regular sexual release, or an over abundance of sexual energy? Or maybe its the tedium of a boring sex life? I honestly don't know, and at this very moment I honestly didn’t care.

My reasons are my own. Three months of sexual frustration bubbling over and now I was tired of waiting for the right partner to come along. I needed some full body contact. My abundant porn collection could only do so much and I had stretched the fibers of my imagination far beyond its boundaries, and the kink in my wrist had started to irritate me. I needed, no, I wanted a hard hung body. And so here I was walking the dead of night, my hands tucked into my pockets, my hood covering my eyes, my head lowered in fear and shame. I crossed over Peachtree Street, beneath the bright street light in the direction of the whore stroll, and my lips moved frantically as I whispered a silent prayer, hoping that my God would protect me and forgive me for my sin. Cause I knew that there was no turning back. I was about to make a improper transaction. I was about to pay for sex.


This is my midnight confession...