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June 20, 2006
The Fireman
Last night at dinner, while Manhattan Furball and Suitcase Sally were discussing whether Pam Cooking Spray could be substituted for Crisco for a certain naughty sexual practice, I was still dreaming about the firemen I had seen the previous evening.
I went to Maggie Moo's in Adams Morgan to satisfy my latest addiction. As I was waiting in line, a firetruck pulled up in front of the building. A number of very attractive firemen entered and stood behind me. I was giddy. I could swear at least one of them was family.
The hottest one actually spoke to me. He said, "What flavor is the blue one?" I said, "Cotton Candy." My heart melted as he undressed me with his eyes.
Many people have asked me throughout the years when I knew I was gay, or more specifically, when I knew I liked guys' butts. I always say, when I was five.
I don't remember a whole lot during my really young years, but I do remember this. Lightning had struck a tree at our neighbors across the street. The tree had fallen onto their house. Nobody was home. A fire truck arrived at the scene. A few minutes later, a fireman knocked on our door and asked to use our phone. I didn't know who he had to call or why he couldn't just use his own radio transmission, but it didn't matter, he came into our home, and I was happy.
He used our phone in the hallway. I remember just staring at him for a long time. He was very handsome, or at least, what I considered handsome at five-years-old. I seem to recall he looked like Eddie Cibrian from Third Watch. I wanted him to take me into his firetruck, hold me on his lap, and read me some Aesop's Fables. I wanted him to take care of me.
The next morning I was at the church nursery while my parents were taking their Bible class. I played with a toy phone, pretending to be talking to the fireman. I don't remember what the hell I was saying on the phone, but I do recall the nursery "teacher" giving me weird looks, and telling me to play with other toys. Leave me alone bitch, I'm talking to my boyfriend. That's when I knew.
I got my ice cream and sat on a stool by the window. The firemen stood in front of their truck to eat theirs. I watched and watched as they took long licks. I looked to see if they had wedding rings on; they didn't. Each bite of my cotton candy ice cream got sweeter and sweeter. They were putting on a show for me; I just knew it.
The one who was undressing me with his eyes looked my way each time he took a long, slow lick. He was teasing me with his cold cream. I teased back, using both my lips to suck the cream into my mouth. He flexed his bicep as he lifted his arm to take another lick. My hot breath was causing the cotton candy to melt all over my lips. I lovingly scooped it all up with my tongue, making sure I didn't let any go to waste. I wanted to taste every drop. My ice cream was just about gone, so I slowed the pace of my licks, savoring every moment while keeping my eyes on the fireman. My heart was racing. My jaw was numb. It was inevitable, I climaxed. There was nothing left to lick. I took a deep breath and exhaled. The fireman, too, had finished. He looked flushed and sweaty. I imagined Eddie Cibrian winking at me as he boarded the truck. His job was done here. He was going to put out someone else's fire.
I wonder what happened to the fireman who made me gay. I wish I could call him. We could reminisce about the old days, and maybe share some Maggie Moo's.
Firemen will always hold a special place in my heart. *sigh*
Posted by durban bud at June 20, 2006 06:22 AM
Comments
I feel the same way about firemen. It's not just the uniform, the beefy arms, hairy chests (the ones I like to look at anyhow) and the strong look about them... Cops have all the same things going for them (and I like them too!) but the firemen seem "nicer." In my mind, you curl up with a hot fireman and have a night of passion... With a hot cop you get a night of grunty, sweaty bad-boy se...
Ok I think I need some ice cream to cool me off... or a cold shower or something... what is it about the nasty DC summer weather that makes me extra horned up!?!
Posted by: TOS at June 20, 2006 11:29 AM
"Leave me alone bitch, I'm talking to my boyfriend. "
That made me laugh out loud at work. Funny, today I happened to write about another male archetype and how he/they pushed me out of the closet too. TJ is to Firemen as Jimbo is to Hockey Players. Except when you go down to the team dugout, they smell really, really bad. Moldy and sweaty at the same time is not good.
You have a very good memory. I remember very little from so early an age.
Posted by: jimbo at June 20, 2006 11:34 AM
[LMAO] You are TOO much. (Our next A. Maupin.)
Posted by: Kinny at June 20, 2006 12:29 PM
you are so lucky fireman gave you his real phone number in the first place. my first crush [i was 4] was richard dawson [shut the fuck up!] who:
1) never called me or gave me his phone number; and
2) actually kissed other women in front of me, prime time, on television!!!!
cheating bastard...made me gay and bitter.
Posted by: jiminy at June 20, 2006 11:10 PM
I think you have a second career writing porn, TJ!
Posted by: matt at June 21, 2006 06:07 PM
i think i just commed...
Posted by: john at June 21, 2006 09:58 PM
"Leave me alone bitch, I'm talking to my boyfriend" - this made me smirk :o)
I remember I had a similar experience when I was 8, I used to sing in my school's choir and "felt in love" [can you love at 8?] with the organist: he was tall+hairy+bearded (my personal taste about men was clear to me at that age already).
I was sooo attracted to him, I had to talk about him all the time. With anyone, anytime. Some day my parents got quite suspicius + worried, didn't allow me to attend the rehearsals anymore. And I tell you what, I was ready to escape from home "how can you prevent me from seeing by boyfriend? we love eachother". I remember.
I always thought I was "not normal". Now I see I was not the only one.
Thank you.
Organists will always hold a special place in my heart. *sigh*
Carlo
(aka CarloMUC on BMB)
Posted by: Carlo at June 22, 2006 03:58 AM
Guys in uniform usually creep me out -- perhaps I have authority "issues" -- but I'll make an exception for those who haven't been trained to shoot people. Like park rangers, Coast Guard, chefs, firemen. Mmm, firemen, I love how their strong legs fill out the Ben Davis trousers they wear. That's what happens, I guess, when you're at the station on a 24 hour shift and between calls you've got nothing better to do than lift weights and cook for each other.
Posted by: John T at June 23, 2006 10:32 AM
Great post! I was just driving down my street the other day and saw a truck pull up and couldn't help but stare at the guys getting out...I almost put my car up on the curb...LOL. Keep up the posting!
Posted by: Sammy at June 4, 2008 12:03 PM
Putting out fires...I see too well.
Uniforms all around for me - perhaps my next husband?
KEEP UP THE BLOGGING!
Posted by: dj at July 23, 2008 11:58 PM
I love Dan Harris!!!!! I'm glad to find another man feels the same as I do.
Great blog! Though I'm tucked up in the north-eastern part of Wisconsin, you help me feel like I'm not so alone. ( I had no gay brother to cry along with me as Mr. Favre made his exit. Now, bring on the Farve pinata....and give me the stick.)
Thanks for the efforts!
Posted by: Budel at August 28, 2008 10:46 PM