OMG, I can't believe I'm posting in CE. I need to feel a man's body against mine. I'm feeling adventurous. I can sit in the comfort of my own apartment, in my decidedly not sexy saggy-ass pajamas, and pick a hot young stud to come over and sex me up. Hooray for the internet, thank you Craig, let's get it on.
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268 emails in the course of 24 hours. WHOA. There's the guy who asked if I can wear rainboots while we get it on (???), the guy who is old enough to be my dad and sent me a picture of himself in leather assless chaps (I double-checked to make sure I didn't post in M4M by accident after that), and the desperate 19 year-old who is a virgin but thinks I'd be "perfect" for his first time. I am re-thinking my decision not to go to the bars this weekend. No no, I must be strong, keep the faith. I feel that dick is not far away, I must persist.
I pick you. You look relatively normal. Your email was funny, not too long, not generic. I toss my fate into the wind and see where it will take me.
We exchange pictures. I wonder if that picture of your dick was taken at that angle to make it look bigger? Hmm. Yeah, that picture of me? Well, I sifted through the 200 most recent photos of me and picked the most flattering one. Heh.
We meet up. You look about 5 years older than you do in your picture. That's okay, because I weigh about 10 pounds more now than I did in that picture I sent. But hey, guess what? I'm wearing sexy lingerie. And you're a man, with a penis, I've already screened you, spent two days trading witty emails back and forth with you, and goddammit, I'm gonna fuck you. That's just how it is. I'm too horny to go back now.
After a couple of drinks, it's clear that it's time to do something next. Because it's not polite to tell someone you want their dick inside of you as soon as possible, when you suggest we head to dinner, I agree.
This feels like a date. I didn't want a date. I want sex.
Okay, pseudo-date continues. Fine. I still want your dick in me, as soon as possible.
We head back to my place. FINALLY. We make out for a little bit. Did you forget to shave this morning? That "soul patch" you have? First of all, it's really circa 1992. Secondly, it's giving me stubble-burn. I'm going to have a stupid-ass looking soul patch stubble burn mark tomorrow. Fuck. I keep kissing you because like I said, I want your dick inside of me as soon as possible.
Ha ha, you're wearing "Vote for Pedro" boxers. I forgive you for the soul patch. Actually, I think "Pedro" might be voting for me right now :)
Okay, this isn't going so bad. You ask if I want some oral.
UH, HELLO? WTF are you asking that for? Did I or did I not post in casual encounters? No actually, I don't like orgasms. Tongues should only be used for useful things, like ice cream and tying knots in cherry stems.
Oh crap. Now I understand why you asked. You have NO IDEA what you are doing. You plunge in face first, like my special lady bits are a snorkling mask, and if you don't get as much of your face in there as possible you just might die of hypoxia. Now, while I appreciate your enthusiasm, I will need my vagina back in good working order later. Thank you. That's enough.
You slip on a condom, and start the old "hump and grunt." You hump. You grunt. I'm not sure, but my bed might have just become a time machine, and I think we're back in 1998, because this is how boys fucked in high school. How old are you again?
I start thinking about going to the store tomorrow. I think I'm out of cereal. Should I get some more of those pasta things? Maybe I'll try the pesto kind this time.
The hump and grunt continues.
What? You're about to cum? That's nice. Thanks for letting me know. Go right ahead. I'm glad at least you had fun.
You pass out afterwards, and start to snore. I lie there, thinking. I'm totaling up my investment on this little CE situation we have going here:
box of condoms, the good kind: $13
sexy new sweater that I wore: $39
cost of the load of laundry that I will do tomorrow, after your hairy ass gets out of my bed: $3.50
... and, the non-monetary yet incredibly important contribution of my time, which could have been better spent, oh, I don't know, washing my hair or prepping my tax return: roughly 7 hours (three hours of email + four hours of pseudo date + bad sex)
.....Learning why I should stop browsing casual encounters and just use my vibrator instead: PRICELESS.