Smells linger. Sights and sounds replay in my head like a squad of chanting cheerleaders with no original cheers. And the sensation rushes back into my body when the act is relived in my mind. An intimate moment, turned into a service. I don't think I even considered him a person. I used his body just like my left hand, and then said goodnight. He had to have seen the disappointment in my eyes. Me a tall attractive guy with great facial hair. Him a smaller asian man with terrible teeth and a sleeve of tattoos that I could not even bring myself to look at. He "had" a great body (seems I may have been a couple of years too late) and a pretty decent package. But ultimately he had to have witnessed the sigh of misfortune my body could not withhold.
He did not even have a floor in his room, just large stains where glue once held some sort of laminate to the concrete below his bed. His mirrored nightstand could easily have been sitting in the back of a thrift store, waiting on some trailer trash mother to be attracted to its shiny surfaces. There was a smell of poverty wafting about his condo. It's almost impossible to describe and can only be experienced for oneself. Two small dogs that he did not even have the courtesy to put outside of the room stared at us. One even growled as the climax came near. Cute, sure. But a part of me was disgusted to have innocent animals watch such a terrible act of self denial.
Torn between caring about my own stamina and not caring about what he thought, an ambivalent feeling washed over me as he asked: "Did you finish?" And I had to answer (all too soon) "Yes." It was over in less than 15 minutes from the front door to "Sorry, I have to go." He was great. Probably very experienced. I, on the other hand, felt nothing. Not even a drop of wanting to ever please this man. I just wanted him to get me off so that I could go back to my bed. I've got shit to do. Luckily he finished himself with me still inside of him. My first time to finish inside of a man, and of course it's with a stranger. Guess I do fit the seedy stereotype my kind have been given, but can you blame us? It's tough enough for everyone else to find love, much less cutting those odds down by 95%.
After it was all said and done, I texted him that I would not be doing that ever again. It's just not my thing. He replied that he was too busy to even breathe, and that if a random fuck is what he gets, he's fine with it. For the first time I actually considered him human. I blocked him all the same. Those wild oats were sown. I can't say I'll never do it again, but I definitely am not eager to give it another go. I may have crushed a man. I may even have crushed myself. I'm not sure how this will all play out. Strangers sometimes have diseases. He seemed to be clean. He said he had papers, but 15 minutes is not enough time to discuss that sort of thing. Maybe I'll regret it, but I probably won't.