27 May 2013


So I was out the other night careering around some high street trying to get home after a birthday/farewell/any excuse night out, when a handsome man careering in the opposite direction came into my drunken orbit.

Now, I am quite sure he was straight because he had the gait of a straight man, he talked like a straight man, he dressed like a straight man, he said he was a straight man.

Tom or James or Charlie was what he looked like his name would be. I don't actually remember. He'd come from one of those well placed English families who live in a country town called Bassingthrop or some other cunty and entitled sounding name. He would have a Charlotte or Olivia or Sophia (pronounced So-fyyy-a) type girlfriend. He'd play rugby on weekends and after a night out, post game he found himself walking home alone, because Charlotte/Olivia/So-fyyy-a was away at her family's house in a town Bassingtrop adjacent when he met moi.

Or something like that.

Things are a little hazy as to how we actually got chatting, all I know is that I was tipping a Zinger burger meal deal into my face and perhaps I offered him a chip. Not sure. There was a bit of banter and before I knew it he was asking how we get to my place. Not sure how that happened either. I hadn't even started my popcorn chicken. So, I toyed with the options. There was a bus coming, but I thought we should take this out of sight and get a cab. He started to look for one and when he couldn't find one, I thought, well he is going to lose interest pretty soonish. But, oh no, he went from car to car looking for a mini cab.

Finally he found one, although by his eagerness, the car could have just been some guy waiting for his partner to finish a night shift and suddenly he was brow beaten into taxi driving us home. Again, I would just like to reiterate I am not sure how "the let's go home to my place" leap was made. I remember thinking is this actually happening? And when he wasn't looking, I made the WTF face and held my hands up in confusion to people who were not there.

At this point there had been no sexual suggestion nor had anything physical happened. Were we going home to chat about Rugby and whether the Tories were going to get a second term? I don't think so. So I decided to test those waters and kissed his neck to which he didn't flinch. I started to move around for a pash and he stopped and said, "I don't kiss on the mouth". Probably because I had Zinger burger breath, but I thought how very Pretty Woman of you. So, you kiss on the cock then? I don't know what's more personal.

Then I think I blacked out because suddenly the cab was at my house and I hadn't given any directions. Weird.

We get into my house and sit on the couch and have a glass of water. In the soft light of my lounge he was even more good looking than I expected. If an actor had to play him a film it would be the new Superman Henry Cavill.
Curly brown hair, strong jaw and blue eyes. And totally hench. So hot. Maybe it was Henry Cavill? I don't actually remember his name. As I said it could have been Tom/James/Charlie. Let's go with Henry Cavill.

So I blew Henry Cavill on my couch. Yay!

I hadn't given oral pleasure in a while - a bit of a drought - hence the lack of blog postlings surrounding these issues and I was so worried I was going to forget the intricacies of my technique. No, it all came flooding back. I ate his dick like a fat kid eats a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Or a drunk gay man eats a Zinger burger value meal while waiting for a bus after a night out.

Then faster than a speeding bullet he Krispy Kremed. I didn't even get my clothes off, but I put that down to his X-Ray vision.

Now, I don't know about you, but I prefer to be notified when an omission is imminent, but he didn't do that.

So he came in my mouth.

I coughed.

And it came out my nose.

Now you really don't wanna kiss me, do you?

So after I blew him, I blew me. Nose that is*.

I came back to see him putting his trousers back on. Then his shoes. "Don't you wanna stay?" He said nothing but continued lacing up. I asked if he wanted to exchange numbers and he still said nothing.

I knew exactly what was up. He had The Fear. I met a guy online once who claimed to be straight and one thing led to another, he came over to my house and we fooled around for the whole night. You could tell there was a thrill of discovery and I did believe him when he said it was his first time with a guy because he was physically shaking. The whole night we had in depth, honest and open chats about pretty much everything, he was very inquisitive as was I with him: he had a recently ex-girlfriend, he was Greek and his family wouldn't approve and he had always wanted his arse eaten out. Yay! He even said he would like to see me again and take things further.

Then he came. And the reality of the situation dawned upon him and he exited stage left so quickly I thought he was going to run through the door instead of opening it.

The Henry Cavill had the same reaction. There was a coldness to his departure that made me feel like we had done something bad, I had done some thing bad, I was bad. I stuck my head out the window and from my third floor flat, watched him slip into the night and then sat back down on the couch.

Superman can go fuck himself.

*I can still taste cum in the back of my throat.


  1. Can't believe that guy!!! Nothing worse than someone who just takes and doesn't give! Dick!!!


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