I wrote a few posts ago that every man in my contact list was hormone-happy and on the hunt. Then I realised that I say ‘yes’ just often enough to encourage the fly-by-nighters to keep trying me like a casino game that spat coins a few plays ago and may just pay out again. Damn this self awareness.
Pleasure Freak sent a text message saying he was driving through my area, he was horny and we should catch up. The jackpot span for him because at that moment I was leaving the office to attend a chore I’d been delaying and I was in an anti-establishment mood. Fix work problem versus fix Pleasure Freak? While messing about in the office is hardly new to me, I still feel a sense of obligation towards the organisation paying for the roof over my head: I opted to do both.
I borrowed a work vehicle, drove off and texted Pleasure Freak a general co-ordinate of where I thought we’d find a quiet industrial estate. During business hours. On a work day. Weirdly enough, as I was trawling the streets he found a quiet cul-de-sac adjacent a freeway off-ramp; when I pulled up alongside his car I could see vehicles whizzing past too quickly to see us and I marvelled at the deceptive privacy.
I got out of the car and looked into his passenger’s side window; he wasn’t joking when his last message said his pants were off and a hard cock was throbbing in his hand. I used my magnificent powers of observation to note that this encounter wasn’t going to be about me. We said hello and exchanged a few pleasantries while he was manhandling his cock. Pre-come was already threading like a cobweb to his belly.
He appeared to have the masturbation aspect of his enjoyment under control and I tried to add value by brushing my fingers along his balls and perineum. After not long at all, he pushed my hand away and asked for a finger inside his arse. Can do. I spat on my middle finger and slid it in, inserting as deeply as I could and working it against the upper wall of his passage.
He came and wiped his belly with take-away food serviettes. I extracted my finger and wiped my hand with take-away food serviettes.
We laughed at the convenience of take-away food serviettes.
He said we should catch up soon. I said yes, and added with intentional innocence that a hotel might be good.
I knew he’d look like a frightened squirrel after that suggestion but I felt like baiting him anyway. It was my mental reward for not receiving a physical reward.
We kissed briefly once and went our separate ways.