Blessings

You’ve ever sat with someone who made you wanna call your mother and be like “bish, why did you raise me right? Here are some idiots misbehaving and thriving!”

Then I spot the look on their blessee’s face, and I realised something important.  The look of confusion on his face tells me all I need to know.  He’s asking himself “how the fuck did I end up here?”

I honestly have no idea.  I’m yet to meet a guy with blesser potential. Well, that’s a lie.  I’m gay, cute and bottom, with lips I’m told are beautiful. So I’ve met at least sixteen.  It’s correct to say “Where do I meet a blesser I want to have sex with repeatedly until I feel that I’ve had enough, and have gotten enough shit?” Also, how the fuck do you convince a grown man to give you things in exchange for sex? Do you write it down somewhere? Smoke signals? Or is there a universal price list for specific services? “Will act dumb. $20 flat fee per hour”?

I mean, I’m willing to sacrifice puppies to an evil power for that Richard Gere in Pretty Woman kinda blesser.  A sexy man in uniform: sigh. But, we work with what we have.  The blesser candidates I met made it clear I would have to learn to keep my mouth shut.  I voiced a negative opinion with one, and had to empty my ecocash for taxi money.  Now, every grown bottom knows you don’t go anywhere without an escape plan.  Like, a taxi driver you know will be up at whatever time you call him, and have experience negotiating outrageous prices at 3 in the morning. If you don’t, whatever blesser says, respond with a “Yes daddy” and smile.

Blesser number two, Yaaaassss. Ever met a man who makes you feel “surely, a man has arrived.” He was this yellow brother with the sexiest smile.  I felt parts of my anatomy respond physically to him.  He hugged me once from behind and whispered into my ear “would you like to sleep at my house tonight?” and I have no recollection of how my bag got into the car.  All I know is he held my hand whilst driving, and my world was at peace.

After a night of conversation, good food and wine (I was the main participant in the drinking. You only eat after having sex, if you catch my drift) we got to the main event.  Bhudhi drops his pants, a beautiful, veiny arm dropped out. I was ready.  Well, I was drunk, but hey, fuck it.  After several minutes of manoeuvring that are never shown in porn, we finally achieved the perfect position.  And, after the intense first five minutes, when I’m finally comfortable, ready to ride that dick like my lunch money depended on it (it did) I hear him grunt, and he pulls out.  I feel empty as hell, he whips the condom off, jerks off and cums on my stomach.

Now, most of you are picturing those porn cumshots where there’s just cum everywhere, and you’re cleaning the ceiling shortly afterwards.  Nope.  This little spurt of cum, and he falls onto his side, proud of himself. I begin masturbating, and, just as I’m about to cum, I nudge him and have him watch. And I explode on myself, and him. I kiss him deeply, letting the cum dripping off both of us mix. I pull back, point at all the cum and say, smiling “this is what cum looks like.”

He never called me back for some reason.

My all time favourite blesser moment has to be my blesser candidate offering lunch and drinks.  Unfortunately, I met a friend inside the bar.  And I could not hide the embarrassment my soul felt as my date struggled to seat himself behind the table. Now, I generally don’t give a shit about your weight.  I’m an equal opportunity lover. I have issues, however, when you feel the need to introduce everyone to your wallet.

His was lifted to the light no less than three times (to grant me a better look at the US notes resident there, I think) and he started ordering in his loudest voice.  I’m sad to say the date ended on a bad note for both of us.  He went home with a hard unsatisfied dick; I went home with a bottle of Johnny Walker double black.

If you do nothing else your entire lifetime, be like Mariah Carey. Niggas should pay for that time of yours they are wasting.

So, do I have any sage thoughts, besides “Do the Mariah Carey and benefit from all encounters with blessers?”. Yeah. I think I do.

Enjoy it.

Because one day, soon, your looks won’t be around to allow you to turn your nose up at people. Or have them pay for your affection.