There was this boy named Joey. He teased me in bed, a lot. I said I wouldn’t do bareback after THAT incident. But still, it didn’t prevent him from teasing. He bit my neck and gave me a blowjob in the shower. He found out my ticklish spots which I hadn’t been aware of. He didn’t swallow my cum. After spitting it out, he looked at me with that smirky look: “Who said I don’t swallow?” He wanted to go on a date with me.
There was this boy named Joey. He was 5 years older than me, the only one in my 20 something range I’d seen in a while, at least since Owen I think. He was from Oklahoma and listened to Garth Brooks. He moved to Texas last year to further his career in Dell. He played softball and didn’t drink much. He never smoked pot or even cigarettes but he didn’t condemn any of my habit. He was going to vote for Clinton and was less confident about the decision after my reasoning about how corporated she was and the story about my short encounter with her 5 years back.
There was this boy named Joey. He whispered “I want your cock” in my ears in front of minors, secretly winked at me whenever our eyes met across the room. He asked me about my scar, my tattoo, my sister and my past lovers. He encouraged me to finish my sentences when I tried to hide parts of it away. He was willing to pay for the drinks while I insisted on splitting the bill. He asked me to stay. He asked me to give him another date and would pay for my tickets to Texas if I said yes. Just like the bill, of course I said no.
He reminded me a bit of Matt Loot, maybe they have similar body type or manner, or that seemingly honest look. He reminded me a bit of Bret. Their voices even sound similar. Colorado isn’t that far away either. But again, either he was indeed a genuine guy or he was a professional pickup artist.