Blowing My Load

While hanging out solo at Patrick's New York City apartment last December, I got an invitation from the Famous Author (and Phantom Blogger) to join him and Patrick for dinner in East Midtown. I jumped at the invite but asked for directions.

"Take the E to 51st and Lex," Patrick told me.

So I jumped on a C train on the Upper West Side, tranfered at the 42nd Street station and was feeling pretty proud of myself when I was settled on an E train bound for Queens.

As soon as I saw the station signs for 51st street, I jumped off the train and hauled my superior ass up the stairs.

Only to emerge on 5th Avenue like a bewildered baby chick.

When I realized that I had gotten off at 51st and 5th instead of 51st and Lexington Ave I called Patrick at the restaurant and told him, "I blew my load too soon."

So this past weekend when Rick and I were on the R train going to meet Patrick at his restaurant, I was determined to hold my load until the proper stop, proving what a hot lover--I MEAN--good guide I could be.

From the station, I knew we had to walk a few blocks South (I think) and a bit toward Queens, but it seemed to be taking us a while.

It suddenly hit me as we crossed Lexington Avenue. "Fuck! I blew my load again. Don't tell Patrick," I implored Rick.

Of course I told Rick the whole story and then told him as I shook my head, "I'm a premature ejaculator."

As we sat at Patrick's bar and shared dessert, I told him, "Rick and I had a nice walk here. We decided to check out some of the sights along the way."

"Oh. So you decided to walk across the park after all?"

"No."

Patrick only had to pause for a moment, look at me hard, and he knew.

"Premature ejaculator," he accused.

That set Rick off. "You two are too much. That's exactly what she said.

Yeah. So. He knows me too well. What he doesn't know is that I got off a station too soon on my way to have our farewell lunch on Monday. Well, not until now at least. But he did call me while I was waiting on the platform to reboard a C train, almost like he could sense my shame.

I guess the good news, at least, is that I'll never get lost in New York. I just need to have multiple orgasms to get anywhere.