16 years together (and hopefully many more to come)

We met as students, never imagining we would spend the next 16 years (and hopefully many more) together…

It all started with a meal at a fast food restaurant, followed by a drink at a bar… We didn’t even kiss that first night, still unsure whether the attraction was mutual.

A few months later, we graduated at the same time, then began our professional lives… with the goal of moving in together one year after our first meeting.

We grew and evolved together, traveled, met people, and developed shared friendships…
Our relationship grew and evolved just as we did. We were enriched by the people we met during our travels. One trip that left a particular mark on us was our trip to California, summer 2018.

We thought we were going to a karaoke night at a bar in San Francisco, but it turned out to be an underwear party.

A first for us… We left that night a little less innocent than when we arrived.

Later, in Los Angeles, on a street corner, we met three guys with whom we ended up spending the entire evening bar-hopping.

We met up again over the following days and formed a friendship.

Many of our friendships were born from spontaneous encounters, while traveling, at a bar, on a beach…

Though initially uncomfortable with public nudity, we eventually learned to enjoy naturist beaches, spas, to feel comfortable in our own skin, to embrace our bodies and feel free and uninhibited.

Many years later, this past January, we took part in our first social naked gathering, in Antwerp. It was a wonderful discovery for us, full of great encounters and the beginning of new friendships.
That experience led us to host a similar event in our own home, for the first time.

It was a very meaningful experience: coming together, sharing, and getting to know one another in a different context.

16 years later, we continue to have new experiences and discover new things about ourselves and our relationship. It’s incredibly enriching and stimulating.

We realize we’re living our best years : we feel free, proud and happy to be gay, comfortable in our own skin, we try to enjoy every day and every moment to the fullest.

SEE MORE PATRON CONTENT: ANTHONY & THIBAULT

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Tale of Men project was born out of my passion for photography and storytelling. As it grows, the cost starts to mount. You can help the project stay alive by becoming a patron or purchasing the Tale of Men magazines. Thank you!

Coming out is often portrayed as a daunting, scary moment in a gay man’s life. A moment filled with fear of rejection, and uncertainty. For many, it can be an emotional minefield, a quest for acceptance by their friends, parents and, most importantly, by themselves. My story, however, is different. It’s a journey of early acceptance, open conversations, and a supportive environment that allowed me to embrace my identity as a gay man from a young age.

As I moved into my twenties, I observed a big contrast between my journey and that of many other gay men. The early coming out shielded me from the prolonged periods of uncertainty and self-doubt that haunted and isolated other young boys. But there ’s another side to the early acceptance as well.

Since my coming out was so early on in my puberty, my pure sexual desires hadn’t been
awakened. I hadn’t come further than a first secret kiss, a clumsy mutual first hand job and a first attempt at topping. Also in my early twenties, I grew up in that same heteronormative environment where I felt that I was accepted, as long I colored between the lines. There were some adventures here and there, but nothing like the extravagance and sexual liberty of what was shown in the series and movies I watched (in secret).

The real sexual awakening only occurred when I met my (now ex) boyfriend. He faced a whole different path. He grew up as one of the guys, and lived truly a double life where, to the public, he was a traditional straight guy, but secretly met up with other (older) gays, frequented gay saunas, and had dates on high way parking lots. He only came out in his late twenties, but the scale of the secret life had taken such a magnitude, that he lost himself in it.

When we met, I really had no clue of the so called sexually liberate gay scene that was home to so many struggling gays. Through our relationship, I learned to give myself over to my sexual desires and shed the self shame, the expectations and prohibitions I felt when I was a teenager and young
adult.

I discovered that I had both a dominant and submissive side to myself. A certain dominance where I get rock hard from spitting in someone’s mouth, thrusting my cock in a throat, slapping someone’s
butt and loading my sperm in a hairy hole. But it was more my submissive and feminine side I embraced during that journey. Servicing a big cock with my mouth while jerking off another one, getting fingered and penetrated by a throbbing penis, even two at a time. Getting pounded hard And asking for more. Putting on sexy lingerie, sniffing lines, popping pills and burying my tong in
hairy cheeks. A side that I until then, never dared to show but was hidden away. I learnt what I liked, what I didn’t like, I tested my boundaries and crossed them to a point where I couldn’t recognize myself any longer..

When the relationship ended, I went back to my old habits, and surrounded myself with my heteronormative (straight) friends and found myself back in the safe environment. I locked the black dildo, the red thong, the anal beads and the jockstraps into a hidden box, together with the sexual awakening.

Unlike many gay men who face rejection and loneliness, I navigated my teenage years with a sense of freedom and authenticity. This open and affirming environment was a privilege that I never took for granted. Although the hidden desires are stored in a box, I feel, as I am becoming older, less self shame about the horny teenager I still am and about the lusts I have.

Times like these – I try to let my guard down and let myself live in the moment. Not crossing my own boundaries, but playing on the edge of them. And who knows, who makes me put on the red thong again?

My dear queer slut chimera body

My body is a territory. A place traversed, claimed, gazed upon, desired, sometimes rejected
but always there. I’ve hated it, corrected it, staged it. I’ve sculpted it, abandoned it, offered it.
I am queer, I am a slut, and my relationship with my body is a polyamourous story of
liberation.

Being queer means being exposed from the start: to the outside, to norms, to gazes. From a
young age, I was made to understand that my body didn’t fit in the right boxes. Too
effeminate, too thin, not strong enough, too expressive. Too visible. I was taught to control it,
to hide it. But soon enough, I realized that my body would be my first tool of revolt. That I
could reclaim it, show it, offer it according to my own rules.

Being a slut, for me, isn’t a provocation. It’s freedom. My body is a space for pleasure and
connection. I love sex, I love touch, I love intensity. My body allows me to explore, to feel, to
exchange, to forget sometimes. It is the place of a language that only touch knows. It is
alive, vibrating, open.

But this relationship is also full of contradictions. There are days when I look at myself and
doubt. Moments when I don’t feel good enough, not beautiful enough, not young enough. My
body carries fatigue, the marks of time, the accumulated scars. It carries the memories of
wild nights, lonely mornings, unfulfilled desires.

And yet, I come back to it. My body doesn’t lie. It guides me, reminds me that I’m here,
present. It makes me vibrate, laugh, sweat, tremble. It is my anchor, my refuge, my stage.
Every intimate encounter is an act of affirmation: I am here, I feel, I desire. And I no longer
apologize for it.

Being queer and a slut is also political. It’s existing against the grain of what’s expected,
against the patriarchy, the hegemony. It’s refusing shame. It’s giving value to what others
would reduce to “too much.” It’s making the body a manifesto. I fuck, I love, I feel: these are
my soft weapons against the cis hetero normativity.

Today, I try to love my body with more tenderness. To treat it as an ally, not an enemy. To
respect it, even when it gets tired, even when it doubts. It has allowed me to survive, to exist,
to love. It is imperfect, but it is true.

Also, in the eyes of my partner, my body is perfect.
Queer, genderfluid, fem, slut, playmate, a lot of proteiform identities.
I’m a chimera.

SEE MORE PATRON CONTENT: VICTOR

I watched him standing silently on the hill, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow behind him, silhouetting his figure in a striking contrast. His masculine body was perfectly sculpted: defined arms and legs, a light fuzz of hair in just the right places, each detail subtly revealing itself. He was grasping his erect cock firmly, slowly moving his hand. Sometimes it was just a dark outline, sometimes you could see more of the body. The scene was so mesmerizing, that I found it impossible to look away. I just couldn’t. You could never get enough of it.

It has always been cocks. Male beauty, but cocks in particular. It’s not always about explicitness; sometimes it’s simply curiosity, a silent intrigue that draws me in. Strangely enough, this curiosity predated my full awareness of my own sexuality.

I don’t remember exactly how old I was, probably around primary school age, when these feelings first began to take root. We had a collection of old newspapers stored in the garage, and I would often spend hours flipping through their pages, driven by simple curiosity. One particular memory stands out: reading a letter from a father, grappling with his son’s decision to come out as gay. I remember thinking at the time, “Wow, I’m so glad I don’t have problems like this.” Little did I realize that, someday, I would be confronting similar questions myself. Thankfully, my family has always been remarkably accepting, and I am grateful for that. Another find in these pages was a reprint or a fragment from Artur Żmijewski’s thought-provoking project, “Eye for an Eye.” Żmijewski had photographed men with missing limbs, yet those missing parts were “recreated” by other men standing together, an act of transformation and resilience expressed with stark honesty. I was very young then, not fully aware of my particular tastes. Oh boy, I didn’t know at that time I’d be into bearded, well built hairy men, but I remember feeling an intense draw toward these images. Their raw, unstyled nudity resonated deeply within me. Polish critical art movement of the ‘90 in its finest. I can still smell the musty, earthy aroma of that garage.

Oh, yes, and the smells. There’s nothing better than an attractive man wearing really good perfume. I wasn’t into perfumes until I discovered some higher end ones, and recently I’ve been dipping into the niche perfume category. Really expensive, but definitely worth the experience. Some smells alone can be dreamlike and put you in an ecstatic realm. Having a sweaty, hot and horny man before you, sprayed with some rich composition makes this almost unbearably ecstatic. Atmosphere becomes combustible.

Male beauty is an evergreen subject for me. I can never seem to get enough of it, whether in photographs, films, or in real life. Ironically, despite this persistent admiration, I’ve rarely explored this subject directly within my own art practice. I tend to focus on abstract concepts and universal human emotions, yet somehow I’ve never touched this subject. Was it because I didn’t want to fall in the category of a clearly queer artist? Or because working with live models makes me anxious? Will I ever get back to making art? Working full time leaves me with no time for the things that I love. So I keep living in these fantasies.

SEE MORE PATRON CONTENT: MICHAL

The patron content is only available for patrons of Tale of Men. You can become one here.

Tale of Men project was born out of my passion for photography and storytelling. As it grows, the cost starts to mount. You can help the project stay alive by becoming a patron or purchasing the Tale of Men magazines. Thank you!