I’ve met many down-low brothers over the past three years. Let me tell you about some of them. I’m changing their names and some of the details to protect their privacy. But the stories are true.
“Lamont” is a successful government worker and has a sales business on the side. He owns rental properties, has a good income, a fly house in the suburbs, a wife and son.
When it’s football season Lamont sometimes has bomb parties in his well-appointed basement on Sundays. The food is good. The liquor flows.
But when Lamont goes to his part-time job he sometimes makes detours to see his male lovers. He has to use his time efficiently. He has to do his work, pay the mortgage on his houses, and get his freak on too.
I met him online. He lives just 20 minutes away. He asked me to his house in the morning while his wife was at work and his son at school. He timed it perfectly. His son’s bus was pulling out just minutes before I arrived. Oddly, all that secret-agent vibe made the scene more hot.
He answered the door. He is a handsome, dark-skinned brother with a slight Georgia drawl that had not faded despite years living up north. His hair was thinning on top but impeccably cut. He tried to look cool and nonchalant, like I was an old college buddy visiting his home for the first time. He gave me a tour of his house and showed me his basement den decorated in black, silver, red and white — the colors of his favorite football team the Atlanta Falcons. But when I looked in his eyes I saw the desire there. His body was practically quivering with excitement and anticipation.
We went upstairs to the guest bedroom and stripped and I pushed him on the bed. He was into “bumping and grinding” so I put my erect penis between his legs and pumped him like i was fucking a woman. My gym body and my large penis seemed to push him over the edge. His body shuddered and he moaned. Within minutes he spurted cum that looked like cream against his ebony skin.
We had several more hookups like that. It seemed like he also wanted to just talk. He would call my office in the morning, say a few words and and just sit on the line, not saying much of anything. This irritated me no end — it was hard to work with a phone crooked on my shoulder. And I felt like he was getting too attached. But our friendship grew.
His story gradually came out. He had probably always been attracted to men but never acted on it until he was seduced by a former college professor who had eyed him down the whole time he took his course. He married because he was a southern, black boy and that was what was expected of southern black boys. He couldn’t grow up and be a sissy.
He really got into his male lovers and was immersed in the gay lifestyle. He told me how he gave money to a younger man he was into. On his “men’s night out” he would go trolling the black gay clubs. He was such a regular at the adult bookstores that down-low men frequented that the front desk staff knew him. And he introduced me to a local gay bathhouse . I had walked past the building for years and didn’t know what it was until he told me.
Although he was juggling two lifestyles you could tell he was trapped in a cage of his own making. One day he confessed to me that eating out his wife’s pussy disgusted him and he took Viagra to stay hard enought to have sex with her, which wasn’t frequent. My mouth dropped open. I love eating my wife’s pussy out. Matter of fact, it turned me on more.
“Lamont, look man I think you’re really gay,” I said one day. “Why don’t you just get a divorce and live a gay lifestyle.”
I could practically see his brain doing the mental gymnastics before he responded. “No way man,” he answered. “We have property together, rental houses, and I love my son. If I divorced her she would get half and probably take my son away from me.”
So, with Lamont I guess materialism and comfort trumped being his true self. Damn, even I know its a hard decision to make. I couldn’t judge the brother. You would be surprised how many black men are living with the same dilemma.