Darren just greeted me at the front of his alley with a smile. He looked friendly in those jeans and t-shirt, very casual, very regular, very attractive. 2 minutes later he wanted to staple me in bed with my stomach down, my hit up so that he could lick it all clean. The man got an enthusiastic tongue.
“You seem different,” I told him, when he was looking down on me with that triumphant glare in his eyes, showing me his new undies. I did take the previous one on purpose and said it would be returned.
“I don’t know.”
He paused for a while. At least I was successful in turning the table around. He wasn’t in control anymore, even though I did enjoy it. But the more important thing is, he didn’t look like someone I didn’t know before.
“I’m in a relationship, you know…” he said, referring to his newly wed lady, which was not what I was trying to convey. It was about 15 minutes later that he let me cum in his mouth while spraying his seeds on my stomach. “You’re a messy guy,” he returned the Dan Baked Beans guy that my first impression found familiar, playing with the cum on my cock.
“Have you seen your living room?”, and I returned to my realm of calmness.
He is a passionate follower of Karl Marx, did some photography here and there, and made money out of it. He painted and played guitar. His entire undies are all colorful and spotted with childish figures. He let his body gain weights naturally. He smoked and poured me beer in a tiny glass. He gets paid 5 times higher than I do doing the same job. He actually enjoys doing it, and still finds himself enough time to balance all the creative activities. He seems happy with his family. He’s bi, and out to his wife, and has no problem feeding on the best of both world. He’s not addicted to virtual life, no selfies, no traces online (I did conduct an extensive search), no
He’s everything that I want to be.
There’s not much going on with Joey. Our talks are getting smaller and smaller as the duration got extended. He couldn’t come over before the year ended and comfort me with a different timeline. And I don’t want to build my life around that. Damian said I couldn’t be that one. The waiting one.
I told him about Leonard Cohen’s passing the other night, to which he responded “Who is that?”. I don’t really listen to much of his work but there are some words, some lines that were poured into lyrics that I actually live by. Or by “live by”, you make an excuse for doing the things you do since you are aware somebody else like Leonard does it too.