“I don’t do that tongue thing!”
– Mushu, Mulan –
No, this story isn’t about me becoming an amateur pornstar, and you won’t find a video on XTube with my face on it. But this next guy did teach me about photography and offered to shoot me in compromising positions for our personal consumption. Did I say yes to his proposal? Of course not. Was I intrigued by the idea? That’s a completely different question… I could barely see my own body in the mirror without feeling extremely insecure, let alone seeing my naked butt on PornHub.
I met this Caucasian guy in his middle 30’s on Grindr and we instantly hit it off. He said he could pick me up at my apartment so we could “hang out” at his place. I really didn’t know why I would go inside a stranger’s car again after the catfishing incident, but hey… he seemed nice. More importantly, his profile picture looked more realistic than the obviously fake, modelesque Asian guy.
There’s one, I don’t know how to say this…, unique thing that I noticed immediately on his Grindr profile: he’s only into dates and handjobs. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE a good handjob. But here’s the thing: I’m perfectly capable of giving myself an awesome handjob because I know what feels good on my own penis. It’s just like doing makeups. You can beat your face to the gods and still paint someone else’s face and make them look like Pennywise (unless you’re a shady bitch and do a terrible job on purpose). I just thought it’s uneconomical when you’re with someone in bed and don’t fully utilize all the resources in front of you.
I got into his grey sedan and was immediately greeted by a hug. “Ok, at least I’m not being catfished again this time“, I thought. He wore a grey hoodie, an orange t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. This combination usually doesn’t work well, but he looked decent in it. I mean, I ain’t no fashion police but orange is a universally hard color to pull off. Or I guess I was just too smitten by him?
After 15 minutes of driving, we got to his place. For a thirty-something-years-old guy, I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t have his own apartment. At least he had his own private room; I wasn’t kinky enough to have sex in the living room while his roommates were watching. I inspected his room and saw a lot of camera equipment.
“You’re a photographer?”, I asked.
“Yeah, mostly amateur stuff for local events. Oh, I also did some semi-erotic stuff”, he replied.
“Semi-erotic stuff?” I asked.
“I took videos of guys (mostly twinky guys) jerking off and posted them online. I can record you if you want, and we can use blindfold so no one will recognize you. I usually pixelate my model’s face but it took a long time to edit them, so it’s easier to use blindfold”, he coyly replied.
In my mind, I was gonna scream hell naaaahhh. If I were ever going to put any pornographic content of myself, I wanted to, at the very least, be shot by a legit gay porn studio (Sean Cody, hit me up!). But I was raised right by my parents, so I just awkwardly laughed at the idea and politely said no.
Here’s the thing. I actually crave intimacy way more than the actual sex. Sure, busting a nut while having two dicks in your butthole (which I have never done before) sounds fucking hot, but I hate it when guys look like they’re only doing a pelvic workout while pumping my ass. This guy, however, was all about intimacy. We started making out in his bed as he gently removed my clothes. Shortly after, he grabbed what looked like a butter jar from his nightstand and started marinating my sausage with creamy substance. He aggressively kissed my whole body while giving me, arguably, one of the best handjobs I have ever had. Who knew that massage cream could add so much pleasure to handjobs?
I ended up taking him to an Indonesian restaurant by his place after our handjob sessions; it’s always funny to see how non-Indonesians struggle with the abundance of spices in our foods. “My stomach feels weird after eating that fish“, he said. We finished our “date” with a mini Dance Dance Revolution competition (I was surprised that he actually beat me) and another make-out/handjob session. We actually almost went all the way that night as his tip was already inside of me. As I was on top of him, I saw a mixture of pleasure and fear in his eyes, and I knew I had to stop. As much as I would enjoy the feeling of him inside me, I felt the need to respect his choice.
I was a little bit saddened by the thought of moving to Los Angeles and not being able to see him again. I told him to drive to LA to visit me occasionally, but he had got a back problem so he couldn’t sit still in a car for too long. He was the first guy who bothered to spend some time to get to know me better, not just my asshole. I checked his Facebook profile recently and he’s currently in a relationship with a guy. Strangely, I was happy to see him happy.
What’s the lesson here? Never say never to handjobs.
SquirtTale 