Followed. Fucked.

Honest, I have not abandoned this blog. Between work and other stuff, I've just not been hooking up the way I want to - or the way you deserve to read. Yeah, I've been feeding a bit, but it appears many don't want to hear all of that. ....but we'll see.

But I figured I have other stories - from my past. Nothing too recent, but of interest perhaps?

I was studying on campus and headed back to my crappy efficiency apartment on South Campus. As I was halfway home, I noticed a dark blonde haired man with at the time, requisite porn/clone moustache. ...and a nice worn leather coat. He noticed me too.

Enough so that in a few minutes, I found him following me - though he had no idea where I was going.

I'm not a paranoid man. Actually, I can be quite calculating, so I thought I'd play this out a little to see if he was truly interested. I stepped into a record store to see what there was to see (and to be seen). He stepped in also - not even really trying to scan music, but standing in sections so he could get a good view of me....and me of him. I think it was a go.

I headed out and he followed. I took a route that went up two alleys to the entrance of my building. He stayed behind at a decent distance, but he never stopped or gave up. I could hear him on the steps as I made my way up to the third floor walk-up. There was never anyone around in this building. In the year I lived there, I never met or saw one neighbor. Weird.

So he's behind by a number of paces and I just key into my apartment and leave the door cracked. Enough for him to know it's not an accident, but not blatant enough to look easy. HA!

The man is not shy - clearly. At this point, we've covered 25 minutes and 3/4 of a mile. He opens my door, enters, shuts and locks the door. I don't even turn around, as I'm standing at my desk/table looking at the mail. I know he's there and he knows I know. Neither of us are stupid.

I feel him behind me and without a word, he reaches around and undoes the buckle of my pants and then drops them to the floor. He doesn't have to do anything else. I bend slightly enough and put both hands on the desk to brace myself. I can hear the buttons on his 501s pop one by one.

I'm sure there was spit. He never left my side and I don't think he had lube with him. But soon enough he was placed at my ass and he started to push in. I held on to the table and let him do it. Still no words were said - but clearly we both knew from the moment we spotted each other who this would end up.

There was nothing long about this fuck. He had an average length dick, but it seemed fat. He plugged away and while there were no words, there were sounds. His grunts, my moans. Nothing loud. Luckily. I know the walls were fairly thin at a place like this.

He grunted loudly and I knew he was unloading. I didn't do a thing to stop him (as if!). Like some sort of public sex scene - it was just over. He pulled out and buttoned up and walked out. Never a word was spoken. I just took in his sperm.

In another place and time, I would have thought it was a dream or figment of my imagination, but I know it wasn't.

...and about six months later, he fucked me in one of the campus building. Similar scenario. But in stall, one is expected to not say anything and just do your business.

I will say, after that, I never saw him again.