Seven opportunities

I had a Friday off and that morning I slept three hours longer than I do on a work day. It's amazing how much fitter that extra bit of sleep makes you feel. The weather was beautiful: it was one of the few hot, sunny days of an otherwise miserable year and I was set to catch my fair share of sun rays. It had been eighteen days since I had been intimate with a sexy guy (see Pinch me: I'm dreaming), so I also felt like having some good sex again. Had I known what was to come, I would happily have given up. But how could I have foreseen such an abundance of disappointment?

One

I live relatively close to the airport near my city, so when businessmen and airline personnel staying in the hotels near the airport turn on their Grindr application I'm usually one of the few nearby guys for them. Especially on weekdays I tend to get a lot of messages from them. Knowing that, I turned on my Grindr and within a few minutes I had a message from a good-looking Portuguese guy who was in the city for work. We decided to meet up in his hotel room, and he asked me to bring condoms, lubricant and poppers with me. It didn't sound like a question but more like an order, but I attributed that to the language barrier.

He looked as cute as he had on his pictures and was slightly shy. Then I discovered that he was a terrible kisser: his tongue was outside his mouth sweeping violently left and right regardless of whether I was half a meter away or my tongue touched his, and also his sharp teeth could be felt continuously in contrast to his lips that seemed to have disappeared. I think I never kissed a more terrible kisser. We got naked, I licked his nipples and nicely trimmed chest while I slowly wanked his cock, but then he already came. I answered his questioning look with a, "I don't have to cum, man, it was nice." I rather jerk off alone at home than boring him with it.

Just before I left he said he visited my city very regularly and that he wanted to meet up every time. I didn't say much, but it was certainly not going to happen.

Two

Instead of jerking off at home or arrange another sex date, I thought I should enjoy the beautiful weather, and so I did. In the early evening I went to a colleague's housewarming party that included dinner. I got home by eleven and was still horny, so I signed in to a chat site and after some chatting I found a nice guy who didn't live far from me and wanted to come over by car. I gave him my address, got into some nice clothes, and waited while playing with myself a bit. It should take him ten minutes, but after an hour he still hadn't arrived. This happened to me three times before in the almost three years that I've been actively dating.

Three

I got online again and chatted with a sporty couple. In fact, I only chatted with one of them, an athletic ginger, who after some chatting asked for my phone number before meeting up. I trusted that the boyfriend would look good too and gave my number. On the phone the ginger talked to me as if he were talking to a toddler. He made a big point of me bringing condoms and I promised I would bring them, but when I hung up I realised something wasn't right. On the chat site I wrote the guy that I had found the phone conversation a bit weird and that I wouldn't come over. He didn't respond.

After about an hour the guy called me again and said they were waiting for me: he said he hadn't seen my message. This time he sounded normal on the phone. Again he strongly insisted on me bringing condoms, but I figured he and his boyfriend probably don't use them when fucking each other. Besides, I always bring my own condoms and lubricant, because other condoms are usually too tight and my own lubricant is silicon-based and I prefer that. And so I decided to cycle to their apartment fifteen minutes from my place.

When I came in the ginger opened the door. I introduced myself and admired his athletic body. The boyfriend was sitting on the sofa and didn't look at me when we shook hand, mumbled his name and generally looked sloppy and uninterested. On the dinner table there was a small dish with coins and white tablets that looked like peppermint but probably weren't. I sat down on the sofa between the two of them and we started to play. I sucked the ginger's cock, and then I switched to the boyfriend's while the ginger sucked me. When I switched back the ginger told his boyfriend, "Do your effing job!" The boyfriend reached for the wine bottle, but then he was told to "Suck that fat cock!" which he did without any passion. The ginger wanted to suck me again and the boyfriend told me in a very rude way to suck his cock until he was hard. I think he had used some drugs because his cock had passed away and there was nothing I could do about it.

The ginger, who was the bottom of the couple, asked me if i had brought condoms. I didn't answer but put one on, lubed it up, and penetrated his ass on the sofa. One stroke, two stroke, and he said, "pull it out." He had cum already and walked to the bathroom. The boyfriend immediately lit a cigarette, turned away from me, and completely ignored me. There I sat on the sofa with a rock hard cock and nothing to do with it. I wanted to jerk off then, but the ginger returned, said it was time for bed and kicked me out. Before closing the front door behind me he asked me if I had brought more condoms and if he could have them. I lied that I had only brought one.

Four

Outside their apartment was hornier than when I arrived. I could cycle back home, but I figured I was closer to the city centre and might find a guy from there. I checked a gay profile site on my iPhone and two interesting guys responded. One was a Brazilian who had to work the next day and just wanted to suck each other a bit because he was tired. I was afraid that he might fall asleep while I travelled to his place, and actually wanted some more bum action. The other guy was older than me: a forty-year-old Arab. He live on the opposite side of the city and told me his general location.

While I cycled to his place he kept asking me questions about what I wanted and liked, and every time I had to stop to answer his questions. I explained that and asked him for his address a few times: he had seen several pictures of me and we wanted the same thing, I had no idea why he stalled so much. Then he asked me for my mobile number to send his address, but when I sent it, he asked me why I had sent it. Then finally I got the address and rang his doorbell.

He was very calm and spoke is a soft tone. He was probably mid-forties but I liked him. This was exciting: I never have sex with guys who are older than me. We sat down on the sofa and on the coffee table there was a small dish with white powder and a straw. "Do you want some methadrone?" he asked, "If you snort only a little bit, it doesn't burn that much." I didn't want anything to burn at all, and certainly not a stranger's drugs. I politely declined and asked the way to the toilet: I had to pee. When I returned he told me I was completely not his type and that it wouldn't work. How could he not have seen that on my pictures? I think he was just disappointed that I didn't take his drugs.

Then he offered me a little snort of the powder again for the ride home, which he knew was one hour cycling. "What's the effect?" I asked. "Oh, you get a very light rush and feel a bit high," he answered. I had heard about the stuff before and I knew the effect was quite somewhat stronger. I didn't trust the guy anymore and was happy that he was throwing me out.

Five

It was seven in the morning by then and I was at the wrong side of the city, no wallet, but a huge sex-drive. I decided to check Grindr and saw a black muscular bottom online. He wanted to meet me, shared his location, and asked how much time it would cost me to get to his place. "Five minutes," I said and started cycling. When I was at his block I tried to message him again, but he was gone. I was too far away from home to give up that easily so I waited a few minutes. He came online and I asked his address. Again he sent his location, a map with a dot representing him, fifteen meters away from the dot representing me. I sent my location back and asked for the address again. He went off-line.

Five minutes later he came online again and asked if I could come over. I said I was already there and sent my location again, he sent his, I asked for his address and there was silence. I explained that I was in his street but didn't know which bell to ring. Then he finally gave me the street name and house number, but there were fourteen bells 4a to 4n. I asked which bell to ring and he was gone for another five minutes and then sent his location again. I responded agitated and then he finally typed "4b".

I rang the doorbell, but he didn't open and asked me for my phone number. I couldn't understand why he would want to call me when I was in front of his door. If he looked out of his window he could even see me. I explained to him that I thought that was nonsense. He went off-line, and on-line again some minutes later. Asked me for my number again. Again I explained that it's weird to call someone who's in front of your door. Then he said, "Okay, I'll come down." But he didn't and three minutes later he again asked for my phone number. I gave up on him.

Six

There was this other guy on Grindr who had contacted me in the meantime: a young English tourist. He said he wanted to be fucked. "Where do you wanna shoot your load," he asked. "On your chest or in your face," I said. Actually I didn't care, but those there the answers people typically wanted to hear if they asked a question like that. Or the other possibility: "I love a warm load in my ass," he wrote. "I don't fuck without a condom," I typed; "I don't fuck with a condom," he replied, "But I will give you a long blow job until you shoot in my mouth."

It was better than nothing and I just had to have some real sex after my long quest for it. I arrived at his hotel and he sent me another message, "Can you do me a favour: get me a pack of mild cigarettes? Philip Morris one." I wrote I had just been a night out, was on my way home, and just wanted sex; no visits to the supermarket. "Ok, never mind, another time then," he wrote.

Seven

I cycled home. Gareth (see "You can have me") had invited me to another picnic in the afternoon so it was not worth the trouble going to sleep for just a few hours. I was still very horny and after doing some cleaning I logged on the this chat site again and complained in my profile about the attitude of guys in the dating pool. I got many sympathetic responses. One was from a guy who had also had similar experiences. He sent me pictures of his face and body and I invited him over. He lived twenty minutes driving from my place and I gave him a detailed description of the route and my address. When he was on his way, I chatted with a friend for an hour and then realised that number seven wasn't going to show up either.

Men are selfish pigs!