XXIX. The Guy Who Made Me Garlic Pasta

“Put your heart and soul in your butt”

– Ash Ketchum –

Every TV show lasting for over two seasons usually has some filler episodes every once in a while, and a good example of this is the Pokémon anime series. There’s always a couple of episodes between each time Ash Ketchum challenges a gym leader where the most random shit happens to him and his squad. They never have any significance for an upcoming battle with a major character in the show nor have been a plot development everyone is dying to know. The best example I can think of is the bikini contest episode where James wears a pair of fake boobs. What the fuck is that?! And why did the writers think it’s a good idea to include that in a show for adolescents? I mean, you can’t expect Ash to win a gym badge or catch a Pokémon in every episode, but c’mon… really? A fucking bikini contest? Anyway, just like the aforementioned episode, this long-ass intro and chapter are gonna be exactly like one of those filler episodes: entertaining but irrelevant to the main storyline.

At some time during my visit to London, I received a message on Grindr from this guy in his early 30’s with a rocking body and a handsome face. I know what you are thinking: “oh great… another Grindr hookup story“. Well bitch, I already told you this is gonna be a filler chapter and don’t judge me for being a basic homo, so you better start learning to deal with my overwhelming amount of basicness. Anyway, being the superficial homosexual that I was, I could not help wondering about the package underneath his towel in his gym shirtless selfie (did I not tell you that this guy is also basic?) Trust me, the guy’s body is banging. So when he told me that he was leaving London in the evening for work and he needed to release some tension, I voluntarily offer my peach for his pleasure with zero hesitation. I know… you are more than welcome to judge me this time.

With the help of Google Maps and the greatest achievement of mankind, also known as the public transportation system in London (seriously, I can’t stop saying amazing things about it), I finally arrived at the nearest bus stop to his place. It didn’t take long for me to get to his accommodation because my brain works a lot better when there’s a good dick on my way. As a side note, I found it fascinating how Americans and Brits have different lingos on Grindr because I was slightly surprised by the difference between “accommodating” and “hosting”.  I personally find the word “accommodate” to be more endearing; the term “hosting” makes it sound like an epic gangbang party is about to happen.

Before I start with the usual nonsensical rant about the logistics of our lovemaking session, let me start by saying that the sex, overall, was fair and he was pretty decent, both as a normal human being and a sexual creature. However, it seemed that there’s an urgent deadline that took away the sense of freedom during the entirety of our body exploration session. It’s like doing something just for the sake of checking off a task on a to-do list. In a way, we both transformed into two wild beasts projecting our animalistic desire onto each other, selfishly trying to obtain pleasure with little to no intention in returning any favor given by the other person. With that being said, I sometimes crave for the intimate aspect of sex, and unfortunately, this was one of those moments when I wanted it. And let’s just say my lover at that time preferred pump and dump to wine and dine. 

It became more apparent that my London bae couldn’t bear spending one more minute with me was in a rush because he needed to be at the airport in three hours, or so he said. It felt like he didn’t care about the existence of any joint in my body or the well-being of my rectum as I remember feeling extra sore after our muscle stretching session, particularly on the lower half of my body. All I can say is this: everyone has a different level of body bendability. It got to a point where in the middle of our constant pounding and groaning, I kept asking myself, “what if I need to go see a proctologist from today’s hardcore afternoon delight? That would be a, literally and figuratively, pain in the ass!”

After I Rhydon him for a while and he horn drilled me to the point of almost fainting, his Onix used explosion all over me. And just like the poor Charmander in the anime series, I was abandoned by my trainer after he’s done using me, all wet and trembling with fear. Dude didn’t even bother to get my Weedle to use String Shot!

He did, however, have a decency in passing me a clean towel to clean up his mess as he was getting dressed for work. At least there’s that. As I was getting dressed, I could hear some clanging sounds from his kitchen, which was immediately followed by his question:

“Do you want some pasta?”

I was slightly touched by his nice gesture after he drilled my asshole like I was a cheap blow-up doll and I was actually pretty hungry after our workout (literally, not hungry for “other thing”). When I opened his kitchen door, I saw the man who deemed me solely as a sexual object ten minutes ago cooking what seemed to be spaghetti mixed with sauteed garlic in his work uniform, looking sexy as fuck. After passing me my bowl of extraordinarily fragrant pasta, we sat in front of each other devouring our pasta while actively trying to keep a conversation going. We mostly talked about my London trip and his job, and for a split second, the image of him as a sexual demon disintegrated into thin air as we were having normal conversations, just like what two regular guys would do on their first date. The pasta date really humanized him, which leads to one important question: why couldn’t he be nice to my ass too?!

I got on the bus on my way back to my apartment after saying my goodbye to my pasta chef and wishing him a safe flight. As I was bopping my head to the some EDM tunes from my headphones, he texted me saying he appreciated my company and thanking me for my service. Then it really got me thinking: can a person have completely different personalities in and out of bed? Just because one is into bondage and leather, does that automatically mean that in real life, they have underlying control issues and generally found pleasure in pain? I used to think that your personality in a public setting is a direct reflection of what you like under the sheets, but as I responded to his text while looking back at my experience with him, I wasn’t sure about my hypothesis anymore.

P.S. this is not a part of Nintendo’s marketing strategy to promote the new Pokémon game. But hey, if you know anyone from Game Freaks and they wanna ask me to write a sponsored post, let me know.

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