Friday, May 22, 2015


He messaged me via both Scruff and Grindr.

He had messaged me before, strung me along and then deleted his profile.....or blocked me. A typical flake. Still he intrigued me.

His screen name seemed to imply he did construction work. From his profile pic, one could assume this to be true.

39, maybe 5'10", 190. The hat hid the fact he shaved his head, but he had a beard and blue eye. Oh, those fucking blue eyes - but more on that later. With a little laziness on his part, that 190, could have made him soft, but he wasn' least yet. Nice arms, nice chest, nice legs. The middle might expand too easily, but who the fuck doesn't have that problem?

I was a mile away and got the invite over. There was a second guy there too. His profile was questionable, but the pic wasn't horrible. And really - the things we do when it "isn't horrible". But we know pictures lie.

When I got buzzed in and up the apartment two things were obvious:  at least one of the guys was a smoker - a heavy one. The second thing: pictures lie.

The construction guy was better looking that his profile image suggested. The other guy - well.......let's just say someone from Auschwitz is missing a prisoner. Older than his profile states - or at least looks it. Malnourished.........emaciated almost. It wasn't pretty. And it seems he was the smoker.

The building was nice but dated.........the apartment, awful. Cleaning hasn't been on anyone agenda for a while. Nor has painting. Or buying furniture after 1978.........or at least not from a Goodwill. Had it not been for the hunky guy, I'd have turned on my heels and walked.

Sometimes I hate my libido.

At least we went into the bedroom where it didn't smell quite as stale as an ashtray.

The Holocaust victim was barely there.....I think to either of us. Most of the time, he sat playing on his phone. Looking for someone better, I if he could do better, but trust me: touching him was not on my 'to-do' list. Let him be enamored of his apps.....I'm ok with that.

Construction guy had an ok dick. Maybe 5" but thick. It took a while to get it hard, but I got it there. He immediately went into a deep, growling breathing technique. An almost exaggerated ujjayi style.

He was laying back, but lifting himself up, arms behind his neck, to look down at me with those eyes. Piercing and blue - it was was hot.

Then after a few minutes of him doing this, I noticed not once did he blink and I realized: he was fucking tweaked to the max.

For all you tweakers who read me - I don't mind losing your readership when I say that - you're fucked up. I get that getting high might make your sex more pleasurable in your mind, but trust me, to the ones of us who don't party like you do:  we don't get the same thing out of it.  90% of the time you can't maintain and erection and about 99% of the time you can't get off. In your mind you think it's awesome sex.........but in reality it is horrible. Meth is playing tricks on your reality.

And your 20s might be all for experimenting, I know I did. But when you're 40 and deep into addiction - well, it's pathetic.

Anyway, I worked on his cock and balls. I even went down to his ass. I'm not scientist, but clearly someone had been there in the last few hours. As I buried my tongue, he was wet and he kind of admitted that someone had fucked him a while ago.

And that's all he wanted from me - for me to fuck him. Besides just being me and not always the ability to top, he was kind of not in a state of mind where I'd want to. Even when he sucked me, the stiffness I had while sucking him started to diminish.

He kept looking at places in the room that had no mirrors, no movement, nothing. I'm not sure if he was zoned out or seeing things. A few times he got up and went to the window, pried open some of the blinds and just stared out.  And at times while I was sucking, he'd just say "308.......308........308". 308 was the apartment number we were in, but he just kept repeating it over and over.

As I was sucking, he was right on the verge of cumming......but never sure if it was real or in his mind. I eventually got a little squirt but that was it.

I hurried and changed. He was doing the same.

The ick(ier) guy looked up from his phone and followed us to the door. It was an awkward elevator ride....and I noticed he was walking along side me to my car. He was expecting a ride. I asked where he was headed and he wanted to go with me. I told him I couldn't do that, but he pressed. I said I'd text him later and maybe we could meet up.

I'm not sure how he got to where he was going, but that really wasn't my concern.

Next time I'll know better just to cut my losses and get the fuck out of there.


cyberi4a said...

Sounds like turning around and leaving would have been the right thing to do.

Bruce Chang said...

Yeah, I try to steer clear of the parTiers. And damn me for being a morning person! I'm up early, they're up late...