Sensei

There’s something fucked up about a guy smiling at you as he strokes into you and you’re grimacing from the pain he’s inflicting to your hole. Now, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional. Until, of course, I asked that we change positions, and he resorted to a combination of “fuck really hard for a couple of minutes, and eat ass out until I beg him to start fucking me again”. It’s a fucking effective system, if I say so myself. It gets worse when, as he begins stroking harder, you also moan louder, and you hear the guy in the next room going “Tear that pussy up nigga!”

It’s of course too late to act embarrassed, so you do the next best thing. You continue fucking. Making as much noise as you need to, because you know no one objects to your coitus. This is completely fine at 5 pm, because everyone is kinda up, and minding their own business.

The problem arises when you feel a tongue brush up against your hole at 4 in the morning. It’s fucking scary. Until you realise it’s Sensei, and with the way his tongue is pressing against your hole, he’s subtly hinting that he wants to fuck again. You immediately turn onto your belly, arching your back, giving him wider access to your hole. I mean, we aim to please, and get pleased.

I met Sensei during a really boring period, and my Grindr game was being… Yes. Lifeless. I decided to tease the gods and ask for someone, something able to provide snappy comebacks.

He provided several. It was that flawless conversation that has led me to two conclusions: the sex will be nasty, freaky, heavy cumming stuff that makes me reconsider gay marriage and why I should fight for it, or it would be the wackest dick ever thrown.

I do not come to this conclusion by accident, dear Reader. I’ve fucked with these men who have brilliant conversation game, and it’s generally one of the two. There’s never any middle ground. I think when it comes down to it, the gods favour their favourites, or the unlovables. You either have brilliant convo and amazing sex skills, or you rely heavily on your conversation skills to get you laid. That sex isn’t something that happens without significant effort on your part. And try as you might, you just never seem to be able to get them to call you back after the first fuck.

So, with trepidation, we arranged a meeting. I was expecting a troll, honestly. Expectations are easier to handle when you assume the individual is ugly as fuck.

And then I met him. He’s shorter than me, which I already expected, considering I’m tall. But, he was shorter than I had expected. And, oh god. He’s significantly younger than me. He turned 21 a couple of years ago. Literally the youngest person I’ve ever had sex with. Even when I was 21, I was getting fucked by 24 year olds. So, I had fun when we met, but shelved the contact under the assumption that we would talk, but never fuck.

He just never left my inbox. We were still clicking, still flirting, still completely behaving like we were going to fuck. He then got a boyfriend, and I continued with my ho life. Fast forward a couple of months, and we have me bent over, getting rammed by a 21-year-old who has the audacity to tell me, mid-coitus, “It’s ok, daddy got you.”

And, I’m embarrassed to say, I did feel like daddy had me.