Saturday last week, I hooked up with this guy from the gym. He was my type and he wasn't my type. He was huge, muscular. The kind who can lift and plug me without my feet touching the floor. That says a lot after all, I myself am a bit massive. I like that. I like big men. I like 'em a lot. His face however was something I leave with the shadows and heat of the sauna. He wasn't ugly per se. To be kind, his face was one that I'd need a little growing on. But his tool more than made up for it. Porn star material down there. Seriously.
We were getting busy inside the gym sauna. It was one of those off hours where there was no one but us. This didn't last long. As soon as the studio class ended, other men, older men, ugly men, started pouring into the lockers, showers, and sauna. Before another person invaded our recluse, he goes "Wanna continue somewhere more private?" Next thing I knew, we were in a room in one of the nearby motels. Lights dim. Thermostat low. All bare. Arms entangled. Legs intertwined. Lips locked. Action-packed.
Amidst the kissing, licking, fondling, and hugging, a wee bit conversation took place. Jokes. Queries. Random bits of personal details. He gave me his name. He showed me his ID. I gave him an alias. He'd kiss me after each, answer, laugh, story. And after one such kiss, he pulled his head back. I looked at him and smiled. I didn't expect hearing the most bloodcurdling words come out of his mouth right after.
"You're lips are so delicious. That's a good thing. At least when I finish you off later, your friends will think that you're just sleeping." It's much scarier in our vernacular.
A good friend of mine was murdered over a year ago. My best friend's good friend was murdered a few years back. Pick-ups. Hook-ups. Mistakes. Despite my longing for a sensational death, I didn't want that to happen to me. (I'd rather have my death be involved with a big political/religious conspiracy or something to that effect.) No way was I gonna let myself be murdered by some silly hook-up with huge arms and a huge prick.
At that point my life flashed before my eyes. And as soon as my consciousness caught up with what was going on, I aimed for the nearest thing I can pull to whack him on the head with. Just in case. I wasn't gonna go down without a fight. No way.
He noticed a shift in my mood (yes, I can still keep it up despite such emotional anguish, it's a gift). He asked me what was wrong, so I told him off. He said that he was only joking. But I made it clear that what he said wasn't my idea of a joke. What happened after? We proceeded with the sex. But my other eye stayed sober, just in case he would try to pull off something. And we finished the deed.
We cleaned up, showered, and dressed up. I stayed at the far end of the room where he stood. At some point before we called for the motel staff, he was talking to me. I didn't remember what he was saying. My attention was locked on his right hand that stayed deep in his messenger bag. That was the longest two minutes I've ever faced. It could've been the last two minutes of my life. I didn't what he'd pull out of there. As the doorbell rang, he finally pulled out his hand now holding a wallet. As soon as we cleared with the staff, I calmly walked by his side out to the street and bid him farewell. I didn't care if I walked out of motel just like that. I don't think I'd have been comfortable waiting for a cab thinking I can still die at any given time.
And so I live to write another entry. haven't seen him in the gym yet. I'm pretty sure I'll bump into him. Wouldn't mind doing a little hanky-panky with him, but just in the gym premises. That I'd consider safer sex.
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