I knew “Ray” a few years before I moved to Baltimore. It was a coincidence I ended up moving on the same block.
Ray is a top from who is originally from the Bronx so he has that New York City swagger. All tatted up and shit.
He sometimes likes to play with other tops or tag team a bottom. He is short and a little thick and has a smallish dick that curves up. But he makes up for that in other departments.
Ray can suck dick like Deep Throat, can flick his tongue across nipples as delicately as a cat sipping milk, and is a First Class ass eater.
But he is down-low as hell. The streets of Baltimore are rough and he has lived in the neighborhood for awhile, long before it started gentrifying, and knows all the dudes on the block. He doesn’t want them to know how he gets down — that might deflect from his street cred.
Mind you, I don’t act overtly gay. But if I see Ray on the streets and other folks are around he will nod but not strike up a conversation.
Or if we are standing on the platform waiting for the next light railcar he will walk right past me and stand as far away as possible.
His actions don’t upset me at all — I know the DL game well.Still I think it’s a shame a 40-something man who lives with two pitbulls who would tear you apart without a second thought is so worried about what some teenager selling weed on the corner thinks.
And late at night, when the streets are dark and the old ladies, teenagers, old heads and yuppies are off the street Ray will text.
“Hey, what’s going over there — you got a bottom? You feel like playing?”
“Nah man, I’m going to sleep. Catch you later.”
And I roll over and snore.
