Dear T,
I couldn’t have told N exactly what he was doing not quite right. It is difficult to describe, what was missing, how another person doing something extremely similar might get an entirely different response from me. I guess it’s every guy’s nightmare, my vagueness about this.
I know only that it is not really about physical skill in the end.
(Intention, intention is the root of a real fuck I think. I fuck men whole, I think, taking in the melding personalities of their cocks, limbs, looks, words. If this is emotional, it is no more emotional than my any other kind of interaction with a person.)
Should I have tried to show him anyways? Worked to improve him? It seemed an interesting, pleasant idea. I was tempted to do that too, train him. In my cruel laughter was my desire to force him to see what he was missing.
I wanted, I think, to be you.
I wondered if I was up to the task. Had I learned that much over the months, from you, from my writing, from my reading ? Did I really know a thing or two, or was I just being as bad as him, assuming my own superiority?
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