So I hooked up with this guy today who from what I could tell was probably certifiably crazy, and as someone who works in mental health I know crazy when I see it. Also, I am aware that it is Christmas and sure I should probably be more focused on family and shit, but unfortunately I woke up really horny. That being said, I'm not saying that he needed to be committed to an involuntary psychiatric unit, but he was definitely someone who has allowed his inner demons to rule his life.
Like he kept saying "kiss me" every five seconds and he kept needing reassurance that I was having a good time or wasn't nervous. Like I'm an adult and you are an adult, so if you want to kiss me feel free, I don't need a command and YOU don't need permission. If I didn't want to be there I would leave. But then the craziness began to escalate and he began telling me he loved me. And sure it was at this point that I should probably have had the wherewithal to get up and leave, but I had committed to getting fucked and there was no way I was leaving without an orgasm, I mean I did douche after all.
From the moment I walked into this guy's apartment I should have known something was up. He was in process of making eggs, put out a cheese platter, and offered me a glass of red wine at 8AM (which I accepted). I don't know about you, but I do not go through that much trouble for a perfect stranger who I only intend on having sex with. He also called me on the phone prior to me coming over, and I always get a little uneasy when people I plan on hooking up with call me. If we are only going to have sex I want to communicate as little as possible. I don't need me or you to gain unnecessary emotional attachments. I think everyone has a finite amount of baggage we are able to carry with us and I do not want to fill up on fuck bois.
In addition to his elaborate brunch spread he was also wearing a red "wife-beater" and under armour athletic trunks, and his wife-beater had a hole in one of the straps. He clearly had a really good body and he made sure to tell me almost immediately that he was on testosterone injections for no other reason than for greater muscle-mass and more pronounced veins. He then later confided in me that he had been taking unregulated steroids in an attempt to bulk up. This for me is a turn off. I am not in amazing shape by anyone's standards and I would rather have someone who looks natural and healthy than a body that is obviously trying too hard. I mean he didn't even need the testosterone for anything other than making himself feel better. It just speaks to a level of insecurity that I do not find sexy in a future partner, but is something I can live with if all we are doing is fucking.
Beyond the testosterone and former steroid use it was also obvious that this guy had had a few cosmetic procedures. That being said I do not think it was anything too invasive. It was pretty clear that his lips were enhanced as they were constantly in a pucker and his face had that taught leathery appearance. He said he was 39, but I'm not entirely certain that I believed him as the tonal quality of his voice spoke to someone much older.
As we sat there and chatted about life he continually asked me if he could ask me another question. Again, you are an adult and we are in a mutually agreed upon situation so if you feel compelled to ask me a question of a personal nature it's probably ok as you will have my asshole in your mouth shortly. It really doesn't get more personal than that, so if you want to ask me a question just ask, don't ask permission you aren't in kindergarten.
In the course of asking these personal questions he asked the two questions that I hate the most: "how many people have you slept with?" and "when did you last have sex/get fucked?" Neither one of these questions feels good to answer. They basically just bring up insecurities about being too slutty or too conservative and if I say I had sex yesterday is that going to turn a person on or turn a person off? And as a gay man oftentimes the answer you are going to get to the number question is "I don't know," so I'm not entirely sure why it continues to get asked.
They also make me feel really insecure about myself and how my answers to these questions are going to make the person I'm about to sleep with view me. I actually don't know my exact number, but I know at this current point it's around 100, but I usually just tell people that I've stopped keeping track because frankly, I think it's weird that I still know the ballpark estimate. I really think if two people are embarking on a sexual or romantic journey it's just easier to keep unimportant facts about our past in the past. Our numbers don't define us and they most certainly don't tell others anything about our sexual abilities or our personalities.
After this serious of unfortunate questions I was ready to move on to the main attraction and he even made that difficult. His dick was stubbornly not hard and he kept saying let's just cuddle, even though it was made pretty clear that I did not come over for a PG cuddle session. He also kept biting my upper lip when we kissed and it wasn't in a seductive nibble, he was legitimately biting my lip till it was on the cusp of bleeding. You know what isn't sexy? BLOOD, so knock it off Buddy.
Eventually I got him to stick it in and he was really batting a thousand. The rhythm was wrong, he was thrusting too hard, and was constantly looking for reassurance and telling me to tell he I liked this or wanted that. He didn't understand the mechanics, and he definitely did not know how to top someone taller than him. Eventually I got on top and came and he well, didn't. After we were done he insisted we cuddle and to add insult to injury he snored, and not even like a little snore it was full on sleep apnea snore to the point that I told him to see a doctor. Eventually, he fell asleep, so I threw on my clothes and helped myself to some of the cheese platter. I have a very real weakness for cheese. I then quietly said goodbye and lead myself out. I haven't blocked his number yet, but I fully intend on doing so if he incessantly hits me up.
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