The Conversion Of A Gay Sex Addict

Hi my name is Keith and I used to be a sex addict.

Scientists say men think about sex every 7 seconds (not sure how they determined that), but I was pretty much close to that mark.

I work in an investment company based in the city and it can be quite hectic. Some days I could work 11-12 hours at the office, but still I would find time for sex.  On a typical weekday, before work in the morning I would go to the gym and cruise some hot guy on the gym floor.  Then we would have one form of sex or the other as was discretely possible in the showers or the sauna.

Then I would go on Grindr and arrange a quickie for lunchtime. Could be with another city worker or anyone passing through the area. I have an apartment  a 10 min taxi ride away from the office in a street aptly named Cock Hill . So location for trysts was not a problem.

Before the workday ends, I would arrange another hook up for the evening.  So on average, Monday to Friday I would have three encounters a day.

There was no letting up at weekends either. Sex was my weekend main event. I would plan my social events around my hook ups. While visiting family or friends outside London, I would line up a hook up for where ever I was going.

If I stayed at home in London on the weekend, I would trawl through the various gay sites and arrange for sex. I became adept at arranging my shags so that they didn’t clash.  Timing was essential and because London gay men can be exceedingly fickle, I made allowances for delays and cancellations.  Typically, from the time a shag arrived at my door to leaving was about 30-35mins. Then I would be ready for the next one in 20 mins.

Emeli Sande said, “The human brain is always addicted to something”.  Pffttttt, What does she know? That is Her version of events. I never saw my predilection for sex as an addiction for a few reasons.

Firstly, I was discerning regarding my encounters. They had to be athletic/muscular with a nice dick and a bubble butt. I just did not shag anyone, just for the sake of it. A sex addict would shag anyone.

Secondly, my performance at work was not affected. I met and surpassed my targets and earned a good bonus at the end of each year. (Ok maybe occasionally giving the managing director who is good looking, gym-trained and also married with kids, a good seeing to in his office once in a while, might have helped).  A sex addict would let sex interfere with his work.

Thirdly, I did not visit the gay saunas during the week. My would only go on the weekend and only if the online chats were not converting into targeted shag numbers by a certain time of the day. In my opinion, a sex addict would visit a gay sauna every single day.

However a friend of mine convinced me to see a therapist, as he was concerned that I was spending too much time looking for sex.  So I made an appointment and saw a therapist.  At the end of our first session she said I was addicted to sex and was perhaps trying to fill a void in my life. She also said I needed a distraction to keep me from looking for sex with strangers.  A few more sessions were required to go through my issues.  I agreed to see her the following week. As I left her office I saw a picture of her husband and kids on her desk.  I recognised her husband and I remembered that I had filled his void a few weeks before, at my apartment. I figured attending sessions with her would be a conflict of interest of sorts, so I did not turn up for any more appointments.

About a year ago there was a weekend when the online chats were not meeting my targeted hook up numbers for the day, so I went to Chariots’ gay sauna in Vauxhall. There wasn’t much luck there either. When I go to a gay sauna, I aim for about five or more encounters, within 3 – 4 hours. On this particular visit I had only had two in 3 and half hours. I guess it was a slow weekend. I left and headed a few doors down to Barcode to see if I could pick anyone up and that was when I met Jack.

Jack stood tall across the bar from me in a hard muscular frame. He had clear honey coloured skin as one would get from a long line of exotic blend of ancestry. Our eyes met and stayed fixed on each other. His light brown eyes seduced me. There was something roguish about him, yet when he smiled and looked at me it was calming and soothing. He came and sat on the stool next to me.

We exchanged pleasantries. He was American from the state of Tennessee. He had been in the UK for a while.  We went back to my place that night and for me it was like a night like no other. It was mesmerising.  He hit all the right spots. Every time I had him I felt a warm glow inside me.  Yes, he filled me up. It was a long session that night and I was grateful for the dearth of encounters earlier in the day. I needed all my energy to keep up with him for I could not get enough of that sweet honey coated body.

Within a week Jack moved into my place. It was bliss. I would have him for breakfast, lunch and dinner. As the days went by my desire to go on Grindr and the gay chat rooms waned. Maybe Jack was my distraction from sex with strangers and maybe the so-called void had finally been filled. I had Jack on my mind 24/7. I would rush home at lunchtime and have him for lunch. I could not wait to finish work and be with him. Often I would fall asleep at night spooning him.

Lord, I was obsessed with Jack.  If I could I would have bottled his essence and carried it around with me. Actually, I think I may have done that. I think on occasion when I missed Jack and needed a pick up, I would escape to the toilet at work and take in a bit of his essence. I can’t remember. It’s all a blur now, for such was the effect Jack had on me.

At weekends we were inseparable. I wanted to be with Jack. No more booty calls. The only thing I craved inside me was Jack. It was Jack’s booty and nothing else for me.

A few weeks after meeting Jack, I started calling in sick at work, just so that I could be with him. I would miss important meetings and deadlines. My performance suffered over the following months and as a result my bonus fell for the first time in 5 years. This was no surprise, as I had also stopped paying attention to the managing director.

I became increasingly unreliable and my behaviour erratic. My appearance changed as well. I stopped taking care of myself and was not making enough time to go to the gym. I guess I was now relaxed because I had Jack in my life.

Family and friends noticed a change in me and felt my obsession with Jack had become unhealthy.  They tried to talk to me about it, but I would not hear them bad mouth Jack.  Eventually, a friend of mine who says he had a similar experience to what I had, invited me to this meeting.

I am now an alcoholic.

His name was Jack Daniel from Tennessee.

I guess Emeli Sande was right……………