Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
No one online, looking for sex at two o'clock in the morning should ever anticipate anything more than the grungiest, most self-absorbed, disfigured sex addicts. Or drunk people. I'd like to believe that it was the seventh glass of Bacardi 151 that opened the Craigslist page.
I was too drunk to write a clever ad. Too drunk to write an accurate ad. So I wrote: moderately hairy top can host. Smooth bottoms to the front of the line.
I don't even know what that means.
But I got an e-mail from someone who lived about five minutes down the street. He said he was going to shower and come over. And thank God, because he reeked of booze and sweat, and...wait, that was me. Shower. Great idea.
I threw on some sweatpants, and a t-shirt because I was at home meeting a stranger for sex, so the clothes weren't going to be staying on for too long, anyway, why not
dress for easy access?
And I waited.
And, I waited.
And I. Waited.
It was a terrible idea anyway. I was three o'clock in the morning, and the highlight of the day had been finishing the first season of "Arrested Development" on DVD. Maybe. So, I was just about ready to head to sleep when my phone rang.
William? Really? Huh.
His sister had some sort of family crisis, which I was sure was a bullshit excuse for him not to come over, which was totally fine, because this whole thing was a terrible idea anyway, and, oh, he was calling from my driveway.
"Hi." I said when I let him in. He was gorgeous. Flawless. Clearly a hallucination. No one looks that good in a pair of Adidas warm up pants.
"Hi." He said. I was not gorgeous. Luckily, it was dark in my room.
It occurred to me, that we had never discussed what was going to happen once he'd made it to my house. I'm usually very specific about things like this. What I want, what I expect, what I fear is going to happen instead. But this guy. I had no idea what he wanted. So, I just prattled unmemorable nonsense.
After a few minutes, he said "You mentioned porn."
I never mention porn. I own some. I've used some. But never when I have a living, breathing, ass accessory (that's how I refer to the part of the male body attached to the ass) in my presence. But I did have some, and I put in the DVD player.
And off came the Adidas warm up pants. And, the most adorable little penis in the world was underneath it. Tiny? You betchya, but it was just so cute, standing at its widdle attention. And the way it disappeared in William (really, William?)'s fist, like a match in the Hubble telescope, was adorable.
Don't misunderstand, there was nothing kid-like about his cock. Tiny, though it was, it had definitely been attached to his body for all of his twenty-four years. It was just manly in a very tiny way. Like a midget Vin Diesel.
I reached over to give some assistance (not lend a hand, that's too cutesy, even for me). It disappeared when I pressed my pinky, ring finger, and middle finger to my fist. On a cold night, when my hands shivered a bit, I could probably have gotten him off with out even deliberately moving.
Still, I felt obliged to give this tiny penis a blowjob. It was too easy not to.
The noises William (huh) made were astounding. It was like he'd never had any sort of sex before. Content whimpering, ecstatic sighs. His left hand dug into my left shoulder. "This is sooooo". He shuddered, but did not come.
Five minutes later, he came. Fairly impressively. All over his stomach.
"Can I?" He shuddered. "Can I use your bathroom?"
"Can I walk out like this? I don't want to get come on my pants."
Sure. And, as he walked away, warm up pants around his ankles, I got my first glimpse of his amazing ass. Something I would keep a close eye on when he got back into the room.
A minute passed. Then, two. Then, I saw him, pants back in their regular position, sneaking out the driveway. He was trying to leave without finishing me off. Or, for that matter, starting me.
I scurried to, and out the front door, and waited for him as he rounded the corner. "Forget something?" I asked.
He looked confused. And the confused expression looked very comfortable on his face. Like confused was the warm up pants he put on when he didn't want to go to the effort of anything else.
"Were you planning on getting me off?"
"Oh. You wanted to get off, too?"
I glared at him. If confused was his face's warm up pants, the glare is my face without clothes on.
And he followed me back into my room. "I can't blow you." He said. "I bit my tongue." And he just sat there.
I took off my sweatpants.
And he just sat there.
I was starting to feel bad. Like this was a person with no experience pleasing a man. But, I'd seen this guy's ad when I used to check Craigslist regularly, and that was years ago. He was either bullshitting, or accustomed to just not having to get his partners off. Or he didn't find me attractive, and didn't know how to say so. But that, I wouldn't feel bad about it, I'd sent him my pictures, they were accurate and recent.
"Why don't you take off your clothes again, and at least jerk me off."
"Oh." His face brightened. "That sounds good. Do you have any lube?"
I'd never given/received a handjob using lube before. It's never seemed necessary, but I passed him the Astroglide, which he squirted all over his hands. And while he moved his hands in a pleasing fashion, I'd never quite encountered, I fondled and fingered his ass.
He grabbed my hands in his, until they were slick with lube. And while he licked my balls, and jerked me off, he arched his back until my fingers were as deep as they could get in his ass without me fisting him. He moaned, and said "How would you like to--"
And I came in his eye.
"God, I'm sorry. I've never come that fast before and." And I was still coming. "I'll go get a Kleenex."
But I couldn't. My hands were all lubed up, and I couldn't get a good grip on the doorknob. And his hands were all lubed up, and he couldn't get a good grip on the doorknob, and neither of us seemed capable of figuring out where our clothes were, despite how small my room was.
After about the longest fifteen seconds in recorded history, I snatched a clean shirt from my, thankfully open, closet, and opened the door. "I'll be back in a sec." And I tied the shirt around my waist, as I scoured the kitchen for the Kleenex box.
"Got it!" I whispered. And turned around just in time to see naked William, hopping on one foot, trying to get his warm up pants on as he walked out the front door.
It was my turn to look confused.
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