Being the little whore I am, I decided to meet a guy I met on Manhunt. His profile picture seemed decent and his online persona seemed nice. We exchanged a few pleasant online chats and my interest only grew. Then we spoke to each other on the phone. I absolutely abhor talking on the phone so this was a major step for me. The problem with giving out one’s phone number is people then want to call you and talk with you. Which sometimes is great, but for me it seems people always want to talk when I have neither the will nor the energy for a conversation. Still, I talked with this guy and didn’t hear any warning bells or psycho alarms. We ended up meeting downtown and going to dinner at a Thai restaurant. So dinner was the usual bit about sharing the biography that I didn’t care to type into my MH profile.
My date, I will call him Mr. Flamboyant, was a bit on the artistic side. I knew he was some kind of artist, but didn’t know the degree to which he was an artist. As he had a stable job I wasn’t sure if he really was a graphic designer or if he was some other design worker. I began to think he might have been a clothing designer. As dinner continued, I found out he worked in high end retail. I am not one to complain, especially since my broke ass will barely make over $20K this year. After dinner, we walked around the Esplanade. I had never walked along the Boston side of the Charles. It was a pleasant evening. I had even brought my camera with me and caught a few interesting snapshots.
I think Mr Flamboyant wanted to hang around with me, but I was Cinderfella and knew I had to go back across the river up to Cambridge. So we bid our farewells. I was surprised about a platonic evening but decided that was life. We agreed to hang out again sometime soon. I think it was the next weekend, he basically invited himself over to my tiny apartment. Actually it isn’t even my apartment. I rent a small bedroom in a wonderful lesbian couple’s condominium. I am so happy to live where I live that I don’t want to screw it up by bringing in every MH hookup. But somehow I let this guy into my space. We were ostensibly going to watch Team America on my DVD/Home Stereo system.
After a few minutes it became clear to me that he wanted to do more than just watch a movie. I think I had lost my horny edge so I was indifferent. The guy felt me up a lot. He played with my pecs a lot. I started to understand why women aren’t so into endless fondling of their breasts. Still, it kick started my libido and pretty soon I was ready to go. I pretty much get into sex; what can I say, I am a dog.
So we played around a bit. He is a guy of small stature; I think he is under 5’5″ tall. I finally put a condom on him and let him hop on board so-to-speak. As he was normal sized, he didn’t hurt so it was a pretty good time. Since it was late at night, he didn’t drive, and he lives on the South Shore, I realized he was with me for the night. That was okay, I guess. I don’t like my space invaded, but he was a nice enough guy.
The infatuation, although I don’t think it had never really been that, wore off. Pretty soon his habit of calling me kiddo started to annoy the crap out of me. His artsy affectations began to grate on me. I am not sure why, but things just weren’t the same. I guess it happens when you realize this is not the guy. I still liked the guy and thought him fun to be around, but he just wasn’t THE guy.
Anyway, he kind of invited himself over again a few weeks ago. He kept saying he wanted to go check out Cambridge eating scene. He was sure there were all sorts of eclectic places in which we could find a meal. As I am not a foodie, I couldn’t help in that department. I almost felt like I had let him down. Eventually we ate at another Thai restaurant near H Square. Again we went back to my place. He pretended to want to watch a movie then immediately just started feeling me up. Replay of the previous tryst. Fun and pleasing, but nothing to write home about (although it is in this blog – go figure.)
So I get back from attending Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco and he wants to see me. I am up for another meeting, it’s cool. When we meet at H Square, we go through the same restaurant crap. Instead of some “interesting” or “eclectic” place we end up going to a nearby brew pub. They brew beer. They serve beef with beer. Think manly decor involving lots of dark woods. They don’t do interesting “fusion” menus. Steaks, burgers, steak fries. The entire time we are walking back to our table he is going on about the atmosphere. It is like this is his first time ever in a microbrewery.
The hostess seats us at a kind of crappy table and points out the beer list. Do you get the drift of what is going on here. This is a beer kind of place. So our waiter comes out from the kitchen and asks if we want to start off with a drink of some sort. Having perused the list of beers, I have already decided what I wanted to try. Mr Flamboyant orders a Mojito.
The waiter actually looked at me as if to indicate “is this guy for real?” I don’t think the waiter was homophobic. In fact I thought the waiter was gay and cute. However, Mr Faaabulous’ drink order just caught him off guard. Informed that the bar didn’t really do mixed drinks, Mr Fabulous then tries to order a Cosmopolitan but enquires first about his preferred liquer base. Informed that that wasn’t really an option, he starts to look at the beer list. I completely understand not wanting to order a beer. I only recently started liking beer (after living in Germany for four years, one develops a taste.) I guess I was just annoyed that he didn’t realize the norms associated with where we were eating. That he was wearing a purple beret and a fuzzy neck wrap didn’t really faze me very much. That he wore almost as many rings as Steven Tyler didn’t really bother me at all. Ordering a Mojito at a brew pub, annoyed me. I don’t know why, it just did.
Finally we get back to my place (again). He brought a DVD with him that he wanted us to watch. Space 1999 – flashback to the 70’s! It was pretty cool. I was getting into the DVD when he started to feel me up again. I guess we were through watching the DVD he wanted to show me. Since I am a dog, I was able to adjust. Sex still beats TV anytime.
So things are getting pretty heavy. When I get into something, I usually am quite enthusiastic. So I am really enjoying giving him a blow job. After a while I decide it’s time for me to put a raincoat on his Mr Happy and get him ready to saddle up. Once he realizes what I am up to, he kind of insists I go back to giving him a blow job. It kind of annoyed me, but what the hell. I figure there is plenty of time for other stuff. So I go back to working him over with my mouth and tongue. In no time he stiffens a bit. I don’t swallow at all! So I release him. He is fighting the effects and then all of the sudden he shoots his load. I take a shot to my face. Thankfully he just hit my cheek and I was able to clean it off without issue. Thanks for the warning, dick. I clean myself off and pretty soon he is off to sleepyville. That is when I know for sure, this guy is definitely not THE guy.
A little bit of Mischief... 