Fraud

Last night I wasted a big, pent up load beating off, and today I foolishly turned down a bunch of hot guys who wanted my dick, all in preparation to meet a guy this evening who turned out to be a fraud. We've been playing text tag for a couple of months now. His pix showed a very muscled, very manly body, with a nice shot of him sinuously draped across a sofa face down, with an ample, extremely inviting ass prominently bulging up-- that image is burned into my brain. But he had no face pic online and kept the other pictures locked after briefly showing me-- both of which would normally be red flags for me, but I was seduced by the idea of fucking my cum into another bodybuilder type, albeit one who looked a little past his prime, which is actually just fine with me. And he sounded like exactly the kind of sensual guy who I could sweat all over for hours. His face pic, which he emailed me later, did not really turn me on-- a rather hard-looking latino-indigenous face-- but it was masculine and had nice muscular-looking lips. He lived waaay uptown, though at least near an express subway. We kept trying and failing to set up a time every couple of weeks. All I knew was I wanted to cum in that sweet, beckoning ass. I wanted to add another big, muscular notch to my belt. So I indulged him in his frequent texting (which should have been another red flag, though I *have* had guys built like that after me more determinedly than you'd expect, given how *I* look) in hopes the timing would eventually work out. We decided yesterday that today after work would be the day! And, alas, it was.

I actually woke up feeling like I was catching a cold. I could barely work till lunch, before I had to get back into bed. Around 2:30 I thought I should text him and let him know maybe he should make other evening plans because I felt sick. But then I decided to wait till 5, when I'd told him I'd check in about getting together, in case I felt better. I had beat off last night because I'd gone all week without anyone sucking me off and I didn't want to be fucking a big stud with seven days' worth of backed-up fuckjuice pressing against my pipes and making me cum in him too fast. The idea of doubly wasting it was too much to bear, though I felt like complete crap. But miraculously, when I woke up again at 4, I felt just fine. So at 5 I texted him asking if he still wanted to fuck. He gave me his address and I made my way uptown.

He opened the door to his apartment and the face was as represented-- maybe a bit froggier in real life, but still clearly the same him from his glamor shots-- but nothing else was. He just looked like a regular middle-aged latin guy in his underwear. His arms were in fact quite scrawny. His ass was barely there. I seriously had to go to the bathroom after the trip, so I went in to relieve myself and figure out what I was going to do. Ay Chihuahua, I thought, am I really going to go through with this? Or, contrariwise, am I going to tell him sorry, not gonna work, and ride all the way back home?

I came out of the bathroom and he was standing in his bedroom. I thought, what the hell, I haven't fucked anyone in a while, I want to fuck, I want to get off in someone. I kissed him and he kissed pretty nice, and had those muscular lips. I thought, maybe I can do this. But there was no sensuousness happening here-- he was going to service me and take whatever I gave him. I pushed him to his knees and ran my limp dick out through my fly and told him to suck me hard.

He gave very, very good head and was not at all daunted by my shriveled tool. It wasn't getting hard all the way, but it felt pretty awesome, and I wondered for the zillionth time why the better a guy looks, the worse head he gives, even with directions, while less attractive guys instinctively know how to make you feel like you want to feel. I took off my pants and he stroked my legs up and down, making greedy sounds all around my dick. I took off the rest of my clothes, laid back on his bed, and pointed to my meat, swollen but not hard between my legs. He hopped on the bed and put it back in his mouth.

I've been really spoiled by the guys I have been with lately. His body was doing absolutely nothing for me; it was like he was barely male. But the amazing head continued until my bone was throbbing hard. As he sucked me my leg extended between his haunches, and I stroked his asshole with my toe. Felt kinda nice, actually, and I imagined running my dick over the same area. I thought, maybe this doesn't have to be a total loss, maybe I'll just ram my tool in him and get off in him and leave. He made my dick feel so good I almost came. Which is a real feat a day after I've already cum... it's typically very hard to make me cum orally unless I have at least two days of cum backed up in my nuts.

Hoping to at least seed him properly for my trouble, I got up and went to inspect his ass. It was really just not very appealing. Just a big shapeless ass. I closed my eyes and ate it a bit-- and he melted into a steady stream of helpless "Ay papi, ay papi"s. But it was actually starting to turn me off. Fearing I'd lose my erection before I got it in, I pulled back, aimed my tool at his hole, and pushed a bit. He was tight as a pinhole. My meat was not going in there any time soon. I was starting to deflate.

Anxiously I flipped him over and lumbered over him. His eyes were big and greedy. He started to reach for a bottle of poppers on the bedside table. "Is it ok if I just--" he started to say, but I pushed him down, covered his mouth with mine, and ground my bone into his groin. His reaching arm fell limp on the bed and he wrapped himself around me, whimpering steadily and grabbing at every part of me. The pheromones were all wrong, wrong, wrong. I reared up and aimed my tool at his hole once more. He quickly went back for the poppers and I let him do a hit, hoping it would open him up. It didn't. He was holding his ass cheeks apart hoping to ease my passage-- one of the least sexy things any guy can do in my book. I pushed a few times and then shook my head with a tight frown on my face, and lay back, saying, "Suck my dick some more." And he did, greedily and quite expertly. His head was buzzed almost to the scalp and it felt good in my hands, so I stroked his head while he licked my dickhead until my tool was hard and oozing precum. He was going to make me shoot if he kept it up. I decided to just let it go. He'd hit me up on BBRTs so I figured he'd be happy with a load however it was delivered. My nuts jumped up into my body, my dick lengthened and strengthened, and I unloaded what I had all over his tongue.

The fucker spat me out when I was done! Into a fucking Kleenex! My precious cum!

I tried to be upbeat and friendly after, but I think he knew what had just happened, and had the crushed look of a puppy who has been spanked for pooing in the house. He got me a glass of water and I got dressed, asking him chirpy questions about this and that while he looked more and more miserable. As I left the apartment he said something about maybe getting together again. I resisted the urge to be cruel about the fake pix. And I rode the train downtown feeling foolish.

Luckily a couple hours later my partner would be off work, and we were to meet for dinner at a new restaurant that turned out to be pretty good, quaint and cozy, and we would take and laugh together. The Strand Bookstore was not full of annoying people as it usually is and I browsed a while to forget about this miserable encounter-- so successfully that I almost forgot to make this entry, though I've pledged myself to record everything here accurately. I was grateful to have a nice enough real life to make up for lapses in my sexual one. I should be angry at this guy for misleading me, but mostly I feel sorry for him.