Sunday, April 16, 2017

Hookup from Hell on the Plains

Plains, April 2017

I thought all the crazies were back in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas in 1984.

It was my fault: the guy had no profile picture on Grindr, the photo he sent me was a penis only, and his profile said "I'm Up for Anything," definite warning signs.

And I skimped on the interview: his name was Brett, he was 23, ok with no anal, and "you going to invite me over or what?"

But I was mad because a hookup failed to show up earlier after endless emails going back and forth, so I thought "Why not?  He's hung."







The Hookup from Hell

First Brett goes to the wrong building. Then when I direct him to the right building, he can't find the front entrance, and I have to go downstairs and fetch him.

He's slimmer, paler, and younger than the buffed guy in the photo, AND he won't shake hands.

He stares at the building.  "This place is pretty big.  Does anybody know you're...?"

"Some of them.  Why?"

"Don't talk to me or look at me.  Just walk to your apartment, and I'll follow."

A 23 year old in 2017, as skittish as a pre-Stonewall closet queen?  Weird!  But I'm in it this far....

Brett comes into my apartment and looks around.  "Are we alone?  Is anybody else here?"

"Um...no.  Why?"

Great, he's going to rob me!  But I'm three times his size!  

"Just making sure.  Got any wine?"

"No, I have Diet Coke, orange juice, and cranberry juice."

"No, thanks.  Let's just go in the bedroom."

I lead him into the bedroom and start kissing and fondling him.  He says "I'm really nervous" and breaks away.

Mr. "Up for Anything" is nervous?

"Ok, let's talk for awhile." .I sit him on the bed and put my arm around him.  "Where are you from?"

"[Small town nearby]. I'm only 15."

Whoa....

I remove my arm.  "Ok.  Let's go online and find you some gay youth groups."

"I'm not 15, I'm 23.  I just wanted to see how you would react."

 I'd better card this jerk.  "Can I see your id?"

He shows me.  Nineteen.  So he's lied twice...

"Have you ever been with a guy before?" he asks.

"Um...yeah."

"Who?  Show me their pictures."

I'm getting tired of this guy, but I take out my phone and show him some pictures.

"He's young.  You like young guys?"

"Um...yeah."

"You got a wife?"

"No...gay, remember?  I have a boyfriend."

"Does he care if you do things with other guys?"

"No.  We even do things together."

"Call him.  Invite him here."

He's really making me work for it!  "Sorry, my boyfriend is at work."

"Well, call another guy you been with, have him come over here for a three way."

"Why don't you call one of the guys you've been with?" I counter.

"You want to have a three way with my girlfriend?"  Brett asks, grinning.

Girlfriend?  "No!  Gay, remember?"  I put my arm around him again.  "What's wrong with just the two of us?"

"Nothing, I guess. So, you got $20 for gas?"

Great, now he's a hustler!  "Sorry, I never pay for hustlers."

"Hustler?" Brett repeats.  "What's that?"

"Paying for sex."

He brightens, as if the idea has just occurred to him.  "That's right.  You want some of my cock, you got to pay me $20."

"No, no, you can't say it like that.  It's illegal -- you could get arrested.  You have to phrase it like 'can you lend me some money?'"

"Ok...you want some of my cock, you got to lend me some money."  He begins fondling himself.

"You going to show me the merchandise first?"

Brett pulls it out.  Aroused, maybe five inches.

"I don't know, that's pretty small," I tell him.  "Hustlers should have big cocks."

"It gets bigger."

"Let me get my mouth on it, and we'll see."  I reach over to fondle it.  He puts it back in his pants.

Enough is enough.  "Ok, well, it's been nice chatting, but I have a lot to do today."

He laughs.  "You do not!  You're just mad 'cause I won't let you go down on me."

"Well, yeah.  I invited you here for sex, and instead I get a bunch of underage, bisexual three-way, and hustler nonsense,  It's been..interesting, but time for you to go."

He gets up and heads out into the hallway.  I follow, to make sure he doesn't steal anything on the way out.

"You don't have to escort me out."

I stand in the foyer, watching him.

Brett walks toward the door, then turns back, puts his arms around me, and kisses me.  A long, deep, passionate kiss.

I break away, and check to make sure my wallet is still there.

"Just a taste of what you're missing out on, Fool."

And he is gone.

See also: The Worst Date in Ohio History; Dates from Hell.; My Hookup with the Bodybuilder Goes Wrong.

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