I doubt I would win any beauty contests, unless the contest requirements included being over 40, overweight, with maybe a noticeable case of male pattern baldness. I know, I am really selling myself here, but what's a regular guy to do?
In my case, I was on Grindr trying to find other men like me who had passed their prime but had not gone completely insane quite yet. When I was 20, I dreamed of an athletic, tall, handsome Italian with a 12 inch dick who was versatile, loved to cook - did it well, and who could out sing Bublé. Twenty odd years later my standards had evolved, and I was hoping to find someone who wasn't into scat.
Grindr was depressing me that day, but only that day because every other day it was not full of angry sodomites yelling at one another before they'd even shared a single message. The fucking profiles! There really should be a master class out there on how to write a Grindr profile because everything felt cringe, tragic or obnoxious. There was very little in between, except for me, of course.
In spite of having to surf through miles of assholes, I kept scrolling, kept hoping. For whatever reason, a profile of a tall thin man, maybe in his late 20's, caught my attention. He looked like a blend of goth and biker gang with some sort of skater past. His profile name was STR8IN2U. I liked him right away, and though he was not my usual go to, I found his unattainable-15-years-ago-why-are-you-even-trying-now charm irresistible. That and the fact that his profile simply read: "Normal here, love fucking and HGTV, HMU." Perfect, right? I sent him a cookie or a stick of fire, I can't remember that the fuck those tap emojis were at the time, but I sent him one. He sent me back a dick pic. It was a very nice dick, it was laying against his flat torso. He was uncut, which I also loved, I started getting excited. Like the feeling you get when you just say fuck it and pull up at the Chick-Fil-A drive thru and say to yourself, today is a large Mac & Cheese day!
I'm not sure how often he said that phrase himself because his body was athletic and in great shape. He had lots of tattoos, a charming smile, but his cock was the star of the show. It had a slightly thin tip, which I prefer. If you are going to give your hole to someone, the last thing you want is an orange shaped cock head, it's nice to have a drive way to ease into the house, only lunatics want to get rammed into the wall by a billiard ball. Simple rule: for ass fucking, cones are better than circles. It's basic geometry.
So, he had sent me this picture and did not ask me for one, which was a relief because I hated, and still hate, sending pictures of my hole or of my anything. My profile picture is an AI version of me who is way happier and more handsome. It would be great if I could send AI-me on dates and just step in for the fucking, I could watch the whole thing munching on popcorn and a stiff long island iced tea from my couch and jump in at insertion, like the Navy Seals. Besides, even if I were tempted to send a sphincter pic, who in his right mind wants to see John Fetterman's anus? I would venture not even his proctologist and I think he probably has a better hole than I do. He has access to the Senate Spa where all the Georgetown queens cut their teeth sucking powerful man cock, at least that's how I imagine the Senate works -- does anyone know?
So he followed up with a message, "I'll give you a tip if you give me one."
That sounded oddly like an escort pitch so I asked, "Escort?" I'm not one thousand percent opposed but I'm one thousand percent not rich, so better to know up front.
"No," he said and sent me a scissors emoji.
"Serial killer?" I asked.
"LOL," he replies.
LOL, when asked if he was a serial killer. Grindr was on fuego today. I was about to use the block function, which to me is the only redeeming feature of Grindr, when he sent me a barber shop emoji.
"Old timey surgeon?" I asked
"LOL," he writes back.
For someone who was supposed to be cutting hair, he was laughing a lot. I asked him for a pic from now and he sent me a picture of him sitting in a barber shop, clutching the most clutchable package in the entire universe. It was full and overflowed his grip, a clear round meat pole pushing towards his hip.
So never mind that I can't divide a meal ticket to save my life but where cock is involved, I'm suddenly Good Will Hunting. I wanted to find out on my own where he was. I began by cross referencing his relative distance, according to Grindr it was 3250 feet, with all the barber shops in my area. I drew a likely perimeter with a margin of 10% because Grindr sucks, and searched for barber shops on Google. There were four possibilities, but I knew one of the shops and it was mostly older men, it did not have the tattooed, pierced, sending naked pics while at work vibe that the Grindr profile was giving me. The second and third shops were in strip malls headed towards Lakeside, a fancy development with huge houses and lots of breeders, I mean lots of lovely families. Those seemed unlikely as well, but to be sure, I searched through the online photo gallery for each of the two shops and compared what I could find to the background of the package grab pic. One shop was easy to rule out, the floor was wrong. The second had very few reviews or photos but I was able to exclude it because the chair leather was the wrong color.
The fourth shop had the right floor and the right chairs. Satisfied I had found my barber, and being ever hopeful, I took a quick shower and did a quickie douche: fuck you doctors that say it's bad for you, I will never be OK with winging it! Clean holes for life!
I hopped in my car and in less that ten minutes, I was parked and ready to rumble with my Grindr date who had no idea I was coming. I walked into the barber shop and who was sitting at the front, staring at his phone waiting for a sexy stalker/customer to arrive? Yes, it was STR8IN2U!
Not only did I feel like a genius for figuring out where he was, I also felt really powerful because I had seen his cock. You know how a lot of the time you spot a sexy bulge and you think to yourself, I wonder what he looks like naked and hard? Well in this instance, I knew exactly!
"Good afternoon," he said, as soon as I walked in.
"Hi, I was hoping for a cut and a trim on the beard?" I replied, butching it up a bit.
He smiled a pretty smile, much prettier than I expected. I don't know why but I always associate tattoos with bad teeth. I shouldn't, I know.
I followed him and the entire way to his chair, I was staring at his ass. Like a dog and a car, I don't know what I would do with an ass, but they are so pretty and masculine, I had to look and question my commitment to bottoming. I know I said my dream man was versatile, but that was in my 20's when I thought I was versatile.
He finally showed me to his station and while it was on the far end of the barber shop, there was zero real privacy. I was regretting my decision to waste a douche and apparently rectal health, for a ghost fuck that could not possibly happen.
He draped the barber's cape over me and clipped it in the back. "Oh, let me straighten that out for you," he said, spotting a little tiny fold in the cape as it lay across my lap. He reached all the way up under the fabric and dragged his hands from my crotch down to my knees. "There," he says, satisfied.
I knew this was not typical barber behavior and I stared at him with my -- how the fuck could you tell - gaze. He smiled and grabbed his phone and opened it to to Grindr. Sure enough, CLASSYHOLE4U was one foot away. Fucking Grindr!
