Whatever?

Last night was another exercise in excruciating frustration... another unavoidable crazy argument with my poor mother, who really isn't adjusting to this new reality very well and dealing with some flakiness from homos. I'm a deeply patient guy but this one thing my mom and I clashed over kinda made me snap. She's since come to an understanding today, which is nice, but last night was tough. I had set up with a very helpful neighbor some time off to blow off some steam, and yesterday afternoon had even lined up what I thought was going to be a verrrrry nice fuck session with a cute, hot-assed guy in a hotel downtown for hours last night. When the time came, mom rejected the neighbor visit, wouldn't wear the new pendant I bought her for emergencies, AND Downtown Hot-Ass told me he had someone else there at the appointed time and was no longer free. WTF! I was about to explode at this confluence of events. I tried to go out just to get some coffee and relax but with my mom refusing to wear the damn thing I couldn't do it, fearing the worst. So I turned the car around before I even drove a mile, and just stayed in, calling a friend in NYC and ranting to him for an hour and a half (thanks man), and then tried to go to bed. Lying in the bed I cycled through various apps looking at the same dudes I've been looking at since I got here a month ago. But one of them, a reasonably cute, hairy little dude who had a history of ignoring my approaches, suddenly hit me up, and he was only a few miles away. It was getting to be midnight. I decided it would help me sleep to blow a load. We left it rather vague what we'd be doing-- trading head and eating his ass, I guess. I didn't care, I just wanted to relax. Thinking I wouldn't be gone long enough for anything bad to happen, I hopped in the car and drove over.

He answered the door in his underpants and was actually a bit more handsome than his pix, though the body was not quite as nice; he had extremely spindly legs. Whatever. We went through the darkened house to a darkened bedroom and made out; he told me I was a great kisser, and he wasn't half-bad himself. His breath was strongly scented with some alcohol, which was not at all unpleasant really. Something about this seemed very southern, for some reason. His chin was scruffy and very manly-shaped; I am a sucker for a nice jawline. He was pretty sensual and after he pulled my clothes off we just stroked each other's hairy bodies and made out. I pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him and stroked my body against his. "Wrap your legs around me, man," I said, and he did, locking his calves behind mine tightly and never letting go. I let my dick slide down between his cheeks and felt the back of my glans-helmet stroking up and down against his hole, gently massaged by his (not very meaty but very hairy) buttocks-- that with the body contact, the kissing, the legs around me, the scent of whisky, the hair, all just made me want to cum, cum, cum. But I kept sliding against him and telling him how good it felt. I did flip him on his stomach to eat his ass, but his ass was just way, WAY too hairy, and during the whole operation he was absolutely motionless and silent-- it was like licking a carpet for no clear reward. It was kinda turning me off. I positioned myself back on the bed beside his head and waved my dick in his face for him to suck it-- he'd said my dick looked nice online-- but he held it like a microphone, exposing only the head, and sucked that with little motions; pretty much the most useless head I ever had. His iPhone kept making noises like mine, making me think about disaster at my mom's house every time. This was not much fun.

But I climbed back on him and pressed hard into him, and got back into that place of contact pleasure. He kept cooing things about how hot I am, how much he wanted me from the first time he saw me (which is weird because I know he turned me down at least once), how I "win the prize" for being sensual and sexy, blablabla. "I would love to push my dick in your sweet hairy little body," I cooed back into his ear, "but I would pop right away." He said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I left him "happy, healthy, and disease free." Not the best pillow-talker, I must say. He also randomly asked me my last name halfway through the festivities, which kinda took me aback, and made a few other random comments. I told him I was happy doing what I was doing but that I kept getting close, and I would just cum all over him if he wanted. He said he wanted. So I stepped up my thrusting and fucked my dick against his until I unloaded.

He asked, "So are you done when you cum?" And I told him I didn't have to be. He wanted me to finger his hole and kiss him while he beat off. He also said, "I do believe the word 'trade' was used when discussing sucking dick," while looking me in the eye. It had been, but his dick was a little weird-looking, as if it had been pumped (a huge pet peeve of mine; the dick is a beautiful thing and pumps completely deform dick). I decided he'd helped me in an hour of need, so I sucked him a bit. But then he was asking for more rimming, and I told him, "I will not bullshit you, I just am not into it." He tsk-tsked, and I said, "I forfeit my prize, don't I?" And I made out with him more and fingered his hole, but apparently I was doing it wrong. Like the guy up in the college town the other night, he grabbed my hand and tried to direct everything, which I really loathe. "We can be here till sunup," he said. "I'm trying to help you." "You dudes and your boutique needs!" I said jokingly. I think this deeply annoyed him. He gave up. I gave up.

We talked a bit as I got dressed. He said he had once been in a similar situation with his father that I am in with my mother. He constantly asked if I would come back and fuck him. I remained coy. "I can see you're not romantic after you come!" he said. "Typical Yankee!" I of course grew up here, and told him so, having only lived in NYC for three years. I wondered a bit whether this was genuinely a Yankee trait, even. Southerners have such weird chips on their shoulders over the whole thing.

I left without promising him much. He texted me before I even drove all the way home, saying thanks and he hoped I enjoyed it too. I sent a polite answer.

Hard to know how to summarize this or wrap it up. I am so not in the present right now. Even with the bad environment, the not-very-cute guys, all that, I could normally eke out some pleasure from this place. But the way things are right now, I can only go through the motions. There are signs things may slowly improve from here on out. I hope so.