This is the first chapter of the book, Sex and Surrender. You may read it here, or download it as as a pdf.
Temptation in its Most Seductive Form
My sexual appetite has got me feeling horny, right.
So I’m taking time to evaluate what’s in sight.
If I play my cards right, I just might,
get the opportunity to blow your back out tonight.
-The Hunger, A.D.
I first met Santiago on a Thursday night in late June 2011 while he was working at a strip club near downtown Houston. I had never been to that club and had stopped going to clubs altogether because I was focused on finding a woman who would be my wife and the mother of my children. I was an only child whose parents had divorced when I was four, so I could feel very alone at times. Having a family was the important thing in my life.
When my uncle passed away unexpectedly the week before my mom’s sixty-seventh birthday in 2010, I got the wakeup call I needed. My ex-boyfriend Mark loved me more than anything, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough: after all, he couldn’t bear children. We had been carrying on as a couple, without having sex, for over a year and a half during our almost five-year relationship. I had told him often that I only wanted to be friends, but he resisted that. It wasn’t anything he did; I just wasn’t in love with him. Our relationship/friendship forced me to maintain my sobriety from sex addiction because acting out would have made me feel guilty, even though we weren’t technically together. For over a year I hadn’t been having sex with anyone.
In June, Mark took a trip to Puerto Rico with his two best friends, and I was free to go out and see what I had been missing. I was a real estate representative at a major oil company with a 9/80 schedule, nine days on and the tenth day off, so on certain nights I could go out without worrying about what time I got home.
My first stop was the bars and clubs where I used to hang out in my sex addict heyday. Now, I knew this was a slippery slope. Yes, God had already called me out of my addiction, but as many addicts have discovered, you can be headed in the right direction of getting out of your addiction, and then suddenly you’re forgoing all the progress you’ve made.
At the club that night, I wasn’t seeing anyone who grabbed my attention. But I came across a local magazine which listed what clubs were open on a given night and I saw an ad which mentioned amateur strippers on Thursday nights. It featured a muscular Latin guy and I knew this new spot would be my next stop.
When l walked in I got that nervous shake which happens every time I go into a place that doesn’t align with the Southern Christian values I was raised with. But I fought it off and focused on all the eye candy displayed before me. I made sure I took the time to scout out everything fine in the place, so I didn’t miss the opportunity or person I really wanted to get to “know” in the Biblical sense.
Then I saw Santiago: it was attraction at first sight. But I knew if I was going to keep his attention, I’d have to resurrect my old sex addict persona. Everybody in the club wanted him. They were begging him to give them a moment of his time as they stuffed dollars in his bikini briefs. I knew the only way to get him would be to ignore him, but not totally. So I looked him in the eye every few moments but never approached him. Finally, we ended up crossing paths near the patio door and he approached me.
His smile was infectious. “How are you doing?
In full sex addict mode, I retorted, “When am I going to get my private show?”
“Take my number down,” he responded eagerly.
“No, you can follow me to my house when you get off.” I wanted to maintain the control in this uncharted liaison.
“Okay,” he said. His grin let me know he was up for playing my game.
When we got to my house, I pulled into the garage and he pulled into the driveway. Within seconds of the garage door slamming shut we started making out on the back of my convertible. In an effort to maintain some level of control, I stopped in the middle of our passionate tongue-fest and told him he had been working and needed to take a shower; I sent him to the guest bathroom and handed him a washcloth and towel. Knowing he had been sweating with everybody’s dirty hands on him wasn’t sitting well with me. (I have OCS – Only Child Syndrome, aka, selfishness – and it seems to rear its ugly head every time the addict comes out.)
I poured myself a glass of ice water and waited downstairs in the kitchen. Then it happened: he came down in nothing but a towel strategically wrapped around his waist, and he could have bought me for less than a penny. At that point, the ball was in his court and it has been ever since. His body was even more gorgeous wrapped in just the towel than it had been in barely anything at the club. His abs were lightly defined, his stomach completely flat, his chest and arms beautifully sculpted, and his culo (ass) absolutely perfect. I asked him what he wanted to drink and he looked in the pantry and grabbed an unopened bottle of Silver 1800 Tequila. Normally I didn’t drink, but he was persuasive enough so I mixed some Hennessey and apple juice.
We went upstairs, where we had some of the most electrifying sex of my life. Once that towel came off, I got the full essence of his ass: well-manicured – hairless on the outside with just a little hair nicely trimmed as I spread his cheeks. We fucked in so many different positions that night you would have thought we were filming a user’s guide to the Kama Sutra. I can still see his face and neck pressed up against the footboard of my bed as I rhythmically thrust myself inside of him. Then when we moved to the headboard to change positions he said, “You know I’m not gay, right?”
I thought: Sure, I’m just putting my dick in your ass but that doesn’t make you gay. I told him, “I’m not either – I’m bi!”
“Yeah, I’m married with a child and when I’m with guys, I’m usually the one doing the fucking,” he assured me.
While I had no reason to doubt him because he definitely had all the attributes of a “top” – the penetrating partner in a gay relationship – he was definitely taking my dick like a well-trained “bottom.” Neither one of us wanted to be the first to come, a sign that we were both true sex addicts. Our uninterrupted session lasted four hours straight – a first for me.
As dawn was breaking, our pure exhilarating exhaustion (and my penis being rubbed raw) forced us to take a break. With my arms wrapped around his upper body and his ass flawlessly pressed against my pelvis, our bodies fit perfectly together; in thirty-four years, I had occasionally experienced this perfect fit with a woman, but rarely with a man. A sense of ecstasy overtook every fiber of my being and I never wanted it to leave.
After maybe two good hours of sleep, Santiago got up and said, “I need to head home.”
So he got dressed and we headed downstairs. But as soon as we got to the bottom of the stairwell he started playing with my cock to get me aroused for another round. Seeing us downstairs standing together in front of my bathroom mirror was breathtaking, but I just couldn’t have any more sex that morning.
“I’m sorry but I’m a little sore. We’ll have to get together another time. What’s your number?” I asked.
He gave me his number and I plugged it directly into my cell phone, but when I called I wasn’t sure if it was the real number or not. I would have to wait to see when I’d be able to get another taste of the sweetest sex I had ever had.
I kept thinking about the fact that Santiago was married and had a child. It was so ironic- the exact thing I wanted in life was precisely what he was running from. Timing really is everything! At that moment I felt as if I would do almost anything to ensure that I could repeat the experience I had just shared with him.