This happened almost two years ago in October when I really hated my job, but wasn’t yet motivated to do anything about it and put in the work ethic to leave and pull myself up.
I didn’t concentrate on douching back then and didn’t even know what it was exactly. I took showers right before and kept it moving, and sometimes not even that if I’d took one (at the most) three or so hours before I was about to get busted up. The most important thing was moisturizing my face and makin’ sure it was thinned out.
I met him on Grindr, and yes, he was black…about in his late twenties. He didn’t look all that super attractive, face wise (sort of a weird face, but smooth and symmetrical), from his pictures, but he had a nice body and was 6 foot 2 inches tall (apparently not a popular height in LA). And he had Michael B. Jordan’s skin tone, and sort of his likeness in some ways.
I did this a lot back then: I turned up the heat in my apartment. Did some lunges. High-knees. And a few more things to sweat and thin my face… When I thin my face my lips pop out more and my eyes look sexier. And sometimes, preferably, I would do this to the point of haggard exhaustion, because when I really knew my features would show… And maybe you do this too, or maybe you think I’m crazy… I didn’t think I had much of a personality back then because of low self-esteem, and however much personality I had, I didn’t like it, but my pretty face made up for that.
When he sent me the address and I Google-mapped it, I was like, “Ooooooh….!” But of course I won’t say exactly where he stayed, but it was a condo off the sexy part of Sunset Blvd. And with this information in mind, I was startin’ to feel some pressure. I told him to give me some extra minutes so I could do some more lunges and high-knees and put on just a bit more lotion. I also do this trick with my toothbrush where I brush over my lips with hot water to make them plump and reddened.
I couldn’t style myself back then and still can’t really now, so I wore some tight joggers and a red T-shirt from Zara with some tan loafers.
On the way there, I was already fantasizing about us getting’ married and maybe bein’ his side-hoe or whatever positioned I needed to play with him and have access to his money and most desirous, genuine attention… We would travel the world together and eventually he’d move me in with him or maybe close by. And honestly, just because he was so rich, I couldn’t wait to do anything he told me to do… Anything.
When I pulled up to the place it had this grand lobby entrance with a desk attendant and everything. And still being fresh from Dayton, Ohio and not at all used to this level of luxury, I was really intimidated and kept tellin’ myself “Woah. So he really got money like this and he only in his twenties?”
Those condos were at least goin’ for a million or so at that time.
I went up the elevator and it might’ve been the nicest elevator I ever been on. And when I went down his floor hallway and kept lookin’ at how big all the apartment doors were…my heart was goin’ THUMP THUMP THUMP the closer I got to his number, and if I remember right there was a doorbell… A doorbell…
…and yes, maybe some of you have been to mansions and nice houses before in Los Angeles, and so have I, but it’s a different experience when a certain individual is inviting you over for sexual relations that are being prioritized over whatever empire they have, and unknowingly giving you even the slightest opportunity (if you’re smart) to work them and gain access to their lifestyle… And look at me, maybe I should be ashamed of thinking like this back then.
He lets me in and he is BEAUTIFUL!
I don’t know if it was his money that made him more attractive, but this young black man was the most beautiful black man I had ever seen in person in my life up until that point… There was this glossiness to his skin. This enchanting charisma to his body language… And as soon as he saw me he looked me over and he smiled and had bright eyes… And he said, “What’s up?” and I said “What up”. And honestly, I can’t remember anything else said before we went to the bedroom.
My mind wandered around the sheer beauty of the apartment… The view from his window remains the most beautiful apartment view I’ve seen. And all of his furniture was clean and perfect…perfect…pristine…extremely clean (*first sign*).
We went to his bedroom. He had a book perfectly laid out on the nightstand, and I don’t remember which book, but it was some type of self-help book (the type I thought a lot of bored and vacuous rich people read to try to fill themselves up).
I sat on the edge of the bed (my usual first move), and he came up to me with his pants down and dick out… And I gotta be honest. The dick wasn’t impressive and was at the most like 6.5 inches or somethin’ like that and also kinda ugly. I personally prefer the thick, muscular ones with the vain and that look like they can knock you out, but anyway…
He was cute so I sucked it with passion and his ass was nice too so I was grabbin’ that…but there was somethin’ hard on his dick. After a few seconds of head I looked and noticed this small ring piercing beneath the head…
Not long afterwards, he was apparently ready and signaled for me to get on the bed and position myself doggy style.
I did so gladly.
He brought out lube but no condoms. And, again, he had money and was cute, so I didn’t care if he fucked me raw and I was in fact lookin forward to it (I was more ignorant back then). So, he lubes me up and puts it in. And like with all small dicks, you feel it at first, but the more they go at it, it just feels like a thimble goin in and out, which makes it more irritating than pleasurable (for me, at least…I can take a 9-inch easy).
And in his grand mirror I can see him goin…
…but there’s this reluctance to his face…
…he pulls out and hurries to the restroom…
I squint and look around, like, “What happened?”.
I hear the sink runnin’ and he’s in there for a good three minutes. And while he’s doin that I entertain myself by lookin at how perfect the room is and how expensive everything is… And a detail that was particularly interesting was this framed poster of some type of condom advertisement…
He comes back out and sticks it in again without saying a word. He goes for a good minute and I watch him, apprehensive that he’ll stop. And he does… He goes back into the bathroom and runs his water again and does whatever else he was doing the first time, presumably. And I have a good time staring at the furniture again.
He comes out again and starts at it… This time, just after a few seconds, he throws his hands in the air like, “I can’t do it. I quit.” And then, out loud, he says, lowly, with an undercurrent of surging anger: “You gotta shower.”
And in my mind, I’m like “I did”, but then I remember all the lunges and high-knees, so maybe that rattled my shit up some more than usual. And I realized he kept going in the bathroom because he was washin’ my shit off his dick, and I was like, “OOOOh no”. But then I was also thinking, “Well, boy, why do you have a framed condom ad in your bedroom but you don’t use condoms, yet you complain about getting’ shit on yo dick. Wtf.”
He was still pleasant, enough, though. He walked me out without saying anything else (or at least anything else I can remember). And I really wanted to say something to change his mind, really not wanting to leave this apartment behind and ruin my chances with him, but I kept my mouth closed… He was rich and I was being dismissed.
Afterwards I texted him “Sorry”, and he never responded… He never responded to my texts and he never ever responded to my Grindr messages again.
I felt like shit afterwards. Worse than the shit I got on his dick, because it was like I was a broken toy he instantly forgot about, and sent back off to a lowly, low-class island to mind my own business while he went on with his luxurious lifestyle and freedom to fuck and forget about whoever he wanted.
And here I still am to this day thinkin’ about that nice apartment, but the difference is that I’m motivated to get one of my own. It took some time, but I realized I didn’t need to be someone’s leftovers to gain access to the life I wanted, because I am my own full-course meal.
I still don’t douche regularly, but most guys don’t mind.
“Don’t always strain yourself while trying to spot the moon if you have all the stars… And if there aren’t stars, remember that you are your own.”