Loathing

I've written about him before. Here and Here.

I used to say that he was distant. Aloof maybe. I might reassess though. He might just be a dick.

After the fuck (the second hyperlink), I never heard from him again. We are talking almost four full years ago. I have seen him around town here and there, but to say I got the cold shoulder would be saying the iceberg that took down the Titanic was just a cube.

I think I could have made him go into a mad dash had I attempted more than a nod - a nod that would never be returned. I don't think it possible for him to acknowledge my presence....or existence.

Years had passed until an acquaintance brought up his name in another context. Yes, I knew his name, but accidentally.  This friend asked if I thought he was "a bit off". I said from my little experience he was - but then I got a detailed version of an encounter he had - a non-sexual one.  Then this friend asked why I thought he was 'off'.

I hesitated for a second before deciding to get into detail I usually only write about here. But since this friend doesn't know about the blog (I don't think), I have him a slightly more sanitized version. He was fascinated. As he should be.

Maybe like saying 'Voldemort' out loud, talking about him summons him, as not a week later that he pings me on Grindr or all apps. His profile image was a super duper close up of his chest. No face pic. Nothing to distinguish it was him. Then he sent me a face pic- and a cock pic.

My guess is, he sent them to me before he realized he'd done the nasty with me a number of times before. But unlike Outlook, there is no retracting a message that easily.

What was done was done. And since he continued with me, I would say he was more horny than anything. One of those times he thought he could overlook history to get his dick off. And you've all read enough of me that I've dealt with a lot worse to get a load.

I got home about 10 minutes before he came over. He literally pushed his way in and past me, remembering the place we had done the nasty in the past. Not a word was said.  You could just feel his sense of loathing. I could. I'm guessing, given the chance, Helen Keller could have.

He was all business, which is fine. I think somewhere in his mind he thought I wanted more from him. I never had. I never will. Or, now as I type this, maybe that's what pisses him off - that I really don't have feelings for him one way or the other. Clearly, I'm triple guessing myself.

By the time I got into the room, he already had his pants unhooked and pants partially down. His shirt was pushed up showing his very clipped chest. This reminded me how he liked to have his chest played with......but I got it wrong.

I went at it with my hands, but he wanted mouth only on his chest. A mouth on a chest keeps it off his cock. That seems unfair.

As it turns out, he was more into using his hand to get himself started while I worked his chest. You could feel the uncomfortableness of his situation. He was here, but was hating me for it - or himself. Or both.

I shouldn't have been surprised that I was only on his dick - as beautiful as it is - for less than a minute when he dumped his load.

What I also forgot was his sensitivity. He barely got two rounds off and pushed me off. More cum went onto the floor and my cupped hand (hey, I didn't want to stain the berber) than into my mouth.

I swear to you - he didn't even finish cumming when he started walking out, and pulling up his pants as he went opened the door and went down the stair. His shirt was still pushed up as he made it into the freezing temps - not even bothering to shut my front door.

In certain ways, I laughed at his behavior. In other ways, I was more offended by it.  Let's face it, I've had some guys say some nasty things to me while I'm taking care of their needs. I've had straight guys in video booths ignore my existence while down on my knees.

I think Jim (no quotes) just hated me. Loathed my existence and what I did for him. Maybe he loathes himself too - for what he does, allows others to do or who they are.

I've never truly felt bad about sex before - and while it was only a fleeting feeling, it kind of pissed me off.

Now I just want to fuck with him (not literally) the next time I see him.   Maybe I will.