Like a Thief in the Night

Meeting people on the internet is always an adventure. Some sage sources of advice might offer cautious suggestions such as meeting your date in a public place, like a coffee shop, the first time you will have an encounter. Caution is not Gaetan's middle name, either real, imagined or metaphorical.

It should not come a a surprise, then, that Gaetan found himself one night with an interesting request from someone he had set out to meet. Don't come to the door, his date requested, but wait for my signal and come up the back staircase to my bedroom door. It seems he had a roommate and wanted to wait until roomie went to bed in his own bedroom before inviting Gaetan to the party.

The signal was appropriately modern. No 'one if by land, two if by sea' for our host, but an illuminated cell phone waved in the window. Gaetan climbed the stairs, entered the bedroom and did the deed with his lovely host, all the while being encouraged to keep the noise to minimum due to the nearby sleeping roommate.

Well, the intrigue and the constraints seem to have been worth it for Gaetan, because this host merited an encore performance. Would the rules be relaxed a bit? No. Would we find out a few more details about our host and his living arrangements? Well, yes.

Gaetan procured more information by whispering sweet nothings in Chinese into his host's ear, Gaetan knew he was Asian, but wanted to test precise origin in this stealthy way. What was interesting was that our host understood the sweet nothings because he responded to them, but his responses kept being in English or French like he was blissfully unaware that Gaetan was speaking to him in Chinese!

As it turns out, our host's roommate was in fact his boyfriend, albeit one with a separate bedroom, and the furtiveness (as opposed to the furriness, which Gaetan also brings to the party) was an elaborate ruse to keep the boyfriend in the dark.

As Gaetan walked away from encounter number two, he wondered if boyfriend ever had the occasion to look out the back window, as it had snowed and he was not leaving as sneakily as he had arrived.

The glow of the cell phone
Will signal 'coast clear'
But come in the back door
My boyfriend is here.

You'll whisper sweet nothings
But whispers they'll be
Because of my boyfriend

(Snowblind, apparently)

Ikea is Swedish for Glory Hole

Gaetan, being an adventurous and open-minded fellow, seems to have no problem finding and arranging to meet people with — shall we say — interesting preoccupations.

On the first encounter with this guy, Gaetan's experience was relatively ordinary, except that the guy couldn't stop talking about his obsession with glory holes, and would Gaetan be interested in being either on the giving or receiving end (or side, I guess) of a glory hole?

This all put Gaetan in mind of an experience he had had years earlier. He met a guy who had actually carved a hole in the solid wood door of his bedroom (thank goodness for strong tenant protection laws, or absentee landlords…). That guy had arranged for Gaetan to get behind the open door, kneeling, to receive whatever came through the hole and then try standing and offering his own cock through the hole. This was no mean feat, considering their height differential, and certainly not comfortable, trying to keep the door open and relatively stable without being completely squished behind it. Upon reflection, Gaetan has to wonder why the door had to be open and not closed, with each of them having an entire room of space with the enticing hole still affording all the same possibilities.

Back to today, and the second planned encounter with new glory hole guy. He went silent and was unreachable for several days. What was happening with him? Something untoward? As it turns out, no. He had bought a new sofa from Ikea and, like anyone consumed with child-like wonder, became entranced by the possibilities of the box it came in. He also had found another willing participant, so Gaetan was not to partake of this one.

See the uncensored version of that video here (they disabled the embedding).

And because we have started a trend in the format, the summarizing poem:

There once was a man who obsessed
He needed some holes in his nest
You'd think him a fool,
But he found the right tool

And the box to enclose it was best

Meet Gaetan

All right, let's start out with the confession. Gaetan is not his real name. His real name, however, is not a real name either, so we will continue to call him Gaetan.

He's a gay man of a certain age. Okay, of several certain ages, depending on whether he has remembered to roll back the odometer on the various web sites on which he maintains a profile. Let us just say that his working age seems to be functioning rather well, making it either 'age appropriate' or a 'working it' age. No matter, because we don't care as much about the age as we do about the adventures.

Gaetan speaks a foreign language much better than he does one of the two official languages of the country (I will leave you to decide which), but he seems to get by in that one, too. Don't worry for yourselves, dear readers, as I will faithfully present those adventures and any side stories in English for your reading comfort.

His adventures tend to be of a sexual nature — at least most of the ones that will presented here — so the faint of heart should probably read these sitting down, if at all. I will avoid the lure of vulgarity in my own recounting of these stories as much as is humanly possible, but there are no iron-clad guarantees in life and this undertaking is not an exception to that rule.

So, to sum up our first instalment in the form of a haiku:

Gaetan's not his name;
he has an active sex life

about which I'll write.