I fell for your trap again. You put out the lure and I take it every time. Maybe one day I will learn not to fall for your hot and cold act. But I’m just human. And that ass you throw is so good.
You recently retired from the military and I agreed to make you my famous crab quiche last Tuesday night for a retirement gift. I would make one for us to eat right away and another for you to freeze for later. We ate and it was getting late — 9:30 p.m. — and I got ready to leave.
But when I embraced you to say goodbye we held each other too long and we started kissing and then we were on the family room floor, grappling each other like young lion cubs playing. All the heat and fire returned and I got swept up.
I think you said something like, “I always come back to you.” My lust was so intense and sharp I could barely hear you over the rush of blood in my ears.
We held hands as we walked upstairs. You were so affectionate and considerate and sweet. Remember how you orgasmed? I had you pinned down on your belly, slamming my long dick up to the hilt into your wet, tight little bubble ass. You said your ass would be tight because you hadn’t been fucked in two months but I got my 10 inches in pretty easily — maybe the poppers you sniffed helped. Or maybe you were just lying about being celibate.
“Oooh, I’m coming,” you moaned. And you busted your nutt into the sheets, making a big round, spreading wet stain.
You had my dick so hard I couldn’t cum, I was so excited. So I just lay down and went to sleep. You hate cuddling so we rested with my hand on your thigh and your feet against mine.
When we are together you make me feel so good I always hope for more. So your ardor on Tuesday night prompted me to call you on Wednesday and invite you to hang out on Friday night. But when I called to confirm the date you said you were running late with errands and had to back out. You have not returned my texts or answered my phone calls since.
Then I remember how you are — how one day you are hot and the next day you are cold. How you have told me you have commitment issues. How you have told me, “I really don’t know what I want in a man,” which in gay-speak roughly means I want to keep fucking around with as many men as possible.
And I remember how you lied and said you were slowing down sexually, getting more into church, and getting rid of your personal ad on Adam4Adam. Imagine my surprise when I found out you set up another account on another sex site. And how two of my buddies have hooked up with you and one told me you played the same game with him. That hot and cold act. The fuck-them-good-and-move-on-to-the-next-one game.
In fact, he told me you bragged about all the men who were sweating you for sex. You told me the same thing about one of the men at your church — how he keeps flirting with you but you are not attracted to him. So why are you going out to dinner with him? To let him down easy?
You remind me of that old Fleetwood Mac song that has the chorus that goes, “Thunder only happens when it’s raining. Players only love you when they’re playing.”
So I guess all you wanted that night was my dick. You got what you wanted. I did a good job, didn’t I? I ate out your ass with relish, sucked that dick, caressed your lithe brown body and fucked you into the mattress. I could have easily pounded you another half hour if you had not cum.
Next time when you call and act all friendly just be honest. Stop playing the faggot game. Quit trying to act so innocent. Just tell me you don’t want to be friends. You don’t want a relationship. You just want me to come over every few months, fuck you good, and get out of your life until you are ready for me again.
I hope next time I am man enough to resist that invitation.
Love you bruh,
You can read more about me and Colin in my entry “Snowed in in the Suburbs.”