Booty Call...911

I know I haven’t finished my stories about the wonders of Pride, but this absolutely cannot wait…

Last night I had the hookup from Hell, and not just one of the upper planes of Hades; I mean one of the lowest, of the low, in the bowels of the inferno.

I had hooked up with Jasper years ago (not such a cute face, but great body), and was surprised to hear from him (I guess he was cycling through his “black book”). I agreed to go over to his place for some adult fun, not recalling the reasons I hadn’t called him in the past--- I should have known better (there was a reason that I didn’t call him)…

I make the drive to his place, and trust me…it was fricken far (and I hate driving, ask anyone). I got to his apartment, after having to park about a mile away and hoofin it to his door (god, I hate those “apartment communities”), with the thought that I was gonna have a rockin’ time…

God…I don’t even know where to start…
Here we go…

Our clothes are off, and he is appreciating my form…I am checking his out…Just like I remember (with only a little pudge around the middle-he was still buffed out though).

He said to me, “Man, I love tall guys.” He was shorter than I am (but then again—who isn’t). “You are hot; just like I remember,” he said. That’s all it took for me (I am a sucker for compliments), and we headed to the bedroom for some “adult wrestling.”

He starts exploring me tentatively with his teeth (hey, I’m all for nibbles), but it quickly gets out of control. He starts biting…and not seductively/teasingly…HARD. Me, not liking this tells him that I’m not too keen on it, after he asked me, “What are you thinking?”

We embrace on the bed, and before I know it…I remember why I don’t care so much for Jasper… He’s a talker, and not like the “hot, verbal, dirty talker” talker… He’s the “what are ya thinkin’” talker.

He starts the biting over again, which begins to annoy me to no end, and is made obvious by my now waning excitement for the encounter. He starts gnawing on my shoulder like a hyena on an elephant bone. I stopped him quickly once I felt the tell-tale signs of a hickie. I said, “Hey man, no marks.” He asked, “Why?” I told him that I have a respectable job and can’t walk in with a tramp stamp. He said that no one would be able to see it, unless I was naked, and that’s why he did it…he likes to mark his territory.

At this point I wanted to say, “Listen you Raspy Jasper, if you think going to the Marv Alpert school of seduction makes you a master lover, you’re sorely mistaken, and as far as ‘marking your territory,’ it takes a stronger man than you to conquest me, you Jeffrey Dahmer, ass monkey.” But I didn’t… I was in full man mode; I needed my Happy Ending.

With this in mind, “foreplay ended,” and we got down to business…

We are right in the midst of heavy duty sexual fulfillment. “What are you thinking?” I was thinking, “More action less talk.” Going at it more, “What are you thinking?” Thinking that you need to step up the action…

“What are you thinking?”
That I need to go to the restroom and get you a Tampax Pearl you chick…get down to business.

“What are you thinking?”
That this can’t be over soon enough for me, keep it going…

Then it got to the point where I was almost there…and it stopped.

“What are you thinking?”
That you can’t be at the top of the ninth, and decide to take a break…that’s what I’m thinking you ineffectual dumb f$#k…

He then proceeds to start talking…and talking…and talking. The conversation he started was something out of a cold case file gone John Edwards.

"The reason I was biting you was because I go over your body, sensing your aura, and when I come to a weak spot, I bite. It is a hunger that is insatiable in me. I can't get enough of it."

Cuckoo-Cuckoo

"So what type of guys are you into," he asks.
"I don't really have a type, but if I am going to be in a long term thing, they have to make me laugh," knowing that he would never fit the bill. In his own mind he was the "deep, spiritual, metaphysical, super uber lover extrordinair." He couldn't have been further from the truth.

Then he said, "I can tell that you need someone who is strong, and not just physically." I look at him with scorn (Hi, John Edwards called and wants his schtick back). I stated, "Who doesn't? That statement is like walking up to someone and saying, 'You like chocolate.' You'd have a 98% probability of being right." Come on...if you're going to try to be all "psychic deep," at least be smarter about it.

He then tells me that I live too "intellectually" and I need to start feeling from my heart and not my head during a sexual experience with him, because that's what inflames his passion... Whatever man... There are a ton of guys out there that wouldn't pass me up if I wasn't so picky. I don't need to get all, "metaphysical kinky."

Just when it couldn't get any worse...He started discussing the sex he had with his last boyfriend, and how they would look at each other deeply in the throes of passion and start crying with the connection that they felt as they looked into the depths of each other's eyes...

MY GOD...I thought I was gonna vomit...sounded to "girl on girl" for me (not that anything is wrong with G on G...if you're into it...but I'm gay for a reason; I like being with MEN).

I asked him what his ex was like...He described him. There was only one person who fit that description...AND I KNEW THE GUY PERSONALLY! (God, could this get any better). Of course, I didn't let on to Jasper that I knew the guy. He then told me that the guy moved and that's why he wasn't with him any longer. I wanted to say, "Really, I thought he still lived here and is dating someone else, you crazy bastard."

Before I knew it, it was back to John Edwards again, "You seem to be guarded and have a lot of walls up." YEAH- I barely know you- "I sense someone who passed on from...Cancer....or heart disease...or Pnuemonia..or Polio. Their name starts with an M or a P or an L or maybe a C"- COME ON FREAK!

I took a few breaths...Must have...Happy...Ending...

I guess he caught my look of utter scorn and proceeded to start up again. I got my wish and quickly tried to get the hell out of there...Pappa needed some Spicy Chicken sandwhich and curly fries...

With some awkward chat as I dressed (as f'n fast as possible), I left the scene only to get near the Jack in the Box by my pad, and find it closed... WTF

And that folks was my disaster of a hookup.

I get ready this morning and look in the mirror to see the grand master of all hickies. The grandfather of tramp stamps. The Hickie that all hickies on earth have originated from. It looks like some atmospheric object nailed me on the shoulder. It is a red weal on my shoulder that is tender to the touch. I wanted to ditch work...drive over there and beat the crap out of him.

I won't be able to wear a tank top for at least a week and a half...Disrespectful Bastard. My body is my temple...and my temple has been violated.

So kids, my advice...when your about to have a deja-screw...make notes on those you hookup with...I need to start, and beware of Raspy Jaspers.

Scribbling as you read,

deutschmarc