I was in Paris for four days before going to the French Riviera, and I was extremely happy to be there and admittedly even more happy to have sex with the locals.  

After leaving Madrid, and spending a few days with family in Spain, I went severa…

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Boy, did I have a time.  

Madrid was empty.   It’s no mystery that Europeans flee their cities  during the summer for places where the heat actually feels enjoyable.   

My hotel in Madrid was beyond gorgeous, I had a massive king-sized bed al…

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Navigating Grindr in Brickell was easy. Everyone was incredibly hot, fit, obsessed with their bodies, just like me, and just insanely gorgeous. I knew the minute I landed in Miami that my Grindr was going to be blowing up. After all, I was-and still am-fresh meat. 

During my first week in Miami, I was l…

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So I figured I would share a few of them.

Boston has always been one of my favorite cities in America.  It is somehow both laid-back and wild at the same time.  It is small enough to feel int…

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At home, one …

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I kneeled and he started face fucking me.  Hard. 

I was gagging and saliva was coming out of my mouth - he told me he liked a sloppy head, so I made sure it was sloppy.  With all the gagging t…

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The apartment was still crowded and messy, mostly from my clothes since all furniture and big items were already placed in their respective spaces.  Between the feelings of a recent broken heart from another dating disaster, and working, hanging out with my close group of friends, going to the gym and an unexpected random work trip to Texas right after the move, I didn’t really have time to fully organize everything. 

A gorgeous 23 year-old boy from the area messaged me. I honestly don’t remember his name, so I just call him the boy from St. Louis.  I think of him as a boy because I was 31 at the time, nearly ten years older than him, and normally I don’t go for younger guys unless they demonstrate a high level of maturity and intellect.

To me he was a boy.  

I had just broken up with someone with whom deep conversations and expectations about a shared future were had, aka marriage, so I was treading from Grindr and hooking up overall very lightly as it all was still fresh for me.  There were nights where I would cry myself to sleep during my first month living alone but time heals all they say, and it sure did. 

He seemed nice, very nice actually. We didn’t really talk about sex nor the usual typical and standard Grindr opening lines of “Hey”, “Looking for?”, “Into”, “Pics?”, etc. during our exchange prior to meeting but rather he was polite, sweet, assertive, and totally midwestern. 

They don’t make them like this in NYC, I told myself. 

We talked about our day, how our week was given it was a Friday, and how we were feeling overall in that evening.  He had just gotten home as well from being out with his friends and upon learning that I was doing my home project he asked me if I wanted company while I was working through my clothes. 

I was confused. What kind of stranger asks that?  But I asked myself, “what’s the worst that can happen?”.

I said sure.

The St. Louis boy was absolutely GORGEOUS.  He was around 5’8” which to me usually is not an attractive point but he was muscular, blonde, beautiful, messy blond hair, and an even more beautiful dick and ass.

When he showed up, I noticed how he looked way better in person. I knew I was going to be distracted from the sadness of my breakup and definitely from organizing clothes.  I met him outside because that is my usual approach when meeting new guys or seeing them from the window, and I loved his demeanor instantly.   

He was manly, fratty, assertive, secure, confident, cocky.  All of the things I liked in a guy, but what I liked the most is that he was nice on the inside based on what he had shown me.  He arrived at mine before midnight, and upon entering my apartment I apologized for my mess and asked if he wanted wine.  I lowered my music a bit to be able to converse with him without having to scream and to my surprise, he told me he loved The Weeknd and listens to him all the time.  While sitting on my couch, I learned so much about him.  The boy from St. Louis wasn’t a boy at heart.  He was a young man with a seemingly beautiful old soul. He was well-traveled, spoke two languages fluently in addition to English, worked in marketing, loved the city life and saw himself in NYC for a long time in his future, expressed himself eloquently and soft spoken.  I was in awe at how put together this guy was.  

Then it dawned on me that I felt like I was talking to myself when I was 23.  Back when I was dating and hooking up with men at 23, most of them said the same things to me about how they perceived me, which was in line with how I perceived him. I wasn’t really thinking of going all in with him but then something really grounding and profound went through my head: if older men gave me a chance when I was 23 and they liked and appreciated me physically and emotionally, why couldn't I do the same for this young man that seemed so put together and like a great lover.  

The minute I accepted that, all my walls came down. 

His intellectual skills were extremely alluring and it was really sending me places mentally.  To me, a guy can be the hottest guy and known to be incredible in bed, but if his personality sucks, if he can’t have an intellectual conversation, I have zero interest.  I hate small talk.  I either prefer no talks during my hookups, get it over and done with or have an intense deep conversation about the world, life, and emotions before the sex part.

His presence felt soothing, peaceful and calming.  He felt like I had known him for ages.  Him and I started kissing and I felt an immense joy inside of myself because deep down I wondered how long it was going to take me to feel this way for a new person right after my ex.  People wonder where all the love goes once you break up with someone, and it truly does go to the next lover. 

I was giving him all of me. 

We stopped for a second to talk about what we were into because it was never discussed on Grindr.  We were both versatile and we were OK with doing anything and everything. The minute he said that, I knew I was in for a treat.  

We could have kissed all night and I would have been perfectly happy with that.  Being with him felt like the world stopped for a second and it reminded me how good of a lover I can be in bed.  I felt sexy, powerful, sexual, horny.  All of those things were coming back to me after losing them. 

Between many songs of The Weeknd playing back to back and sips of wine here and there, I dimmed my lights with the remote control and we undressed each other in an amazing and passionate way.  As we were sitting on my couch, his height didn’t matter, in fact, I didn’t even think of it.  We kept switching positions as we were making out for literally over an hour and having deep conversations in between.  He kissed the same exact way I love to kiss.  Slow, passionately, tenderly touching my face, my neck, my head, my arms and my shoulders. 

I felt two things I hadn’t felt in a long time:

I felt young

and

I felt like I was in love again. 

The passion escaped reality.  The connection was inexplicable.  

Hours passed and the clock was showing almost 5AM.  During all of those hours, we made love, gave each other oral, we switched between topping and bottoming, we cuddled, we had sex the vanilla way, we continued to talk about the world and life. Time truly stopped that night until it flashed forward once it resumed. He couldn’t cum because he had a lot to drink while he was out with his friends and the wine I kept pouring on his glass, but his dick did not go down. 

The sex with him was surreal.  Slow, passionate, loving, caring.  I felt like my sex partner was someone whom I absolutely loved and have been with for a long time. It almost felt like deja vu. And of course, I went back to old habits.  Because love and infatuation has no limit to age. Even at 31, I felt like someone I met hours ago was my soulmate.  The delusion in my head made me wonder things.  I never in my life considered dating someone younger, especially after my past experience ten years ago with a narcissist, but the boy from St. Louis felt like home.  

I felt safe in his presence. Protected.  I felt like I didn’t even need to talk about my private life with him because details from the past did not matter. He felt like none of my mistakes were relevant and like the time we were living together that moment and was the only thing that mattered.  

Because it was dawn, and we were already done having sex, he asked me a question that I wasn’t ready to answer.  He asked if he could stay over. I know him and I had spent hours together, had raw sex and had an amazing time together but sleeping next to someone is where I always drew the line. Had we met six months later, I probably would have told him to move in with me if he wanted to, because I truly did not want my time with him to come to an end. But given I had just ended things with someone I was deep down still loving, thinking about and hurting at my core, I simply couldn’t bring myself to sleep next to someone and share that ultimate level of intimacy. To me, sleeping with someone at that moment in time felt like the biggest damage I could do to myself at the moment.  

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him my true feelings around the topic so I lied and told him I would love for him to stay the night but that I had to wake up early later in the morning and I suggested it was probably for the better if I didn’t wake him up to leave in like 3 hours.  Reality is I did have plans but my plans weren’t until 1PM.  

I just couldn't do it. 

He understood and respected my boundary and got ready to leave.  I thanked him for our time together, asked him if he wanted me to order him an Uber, to which he declined.  Looking back I regret not sleeping with him but by the time I was 31, I had learned many lessons surrounding listening to my gut and giving my heart, mind and body what it needed, and what I didn’t need for sure was to sleep next to him because it would have completely derailed me. 

It was really bad timing.

When I woke up and went on Grindr around 11AM, I realized he had blocked me. 

I couldn’t tell you what happened, because that is the thing about ghosting, you never know what happened.  I never saw him around the neighborhood, I never saw his account pop up again.  It made me sad for a short moment, and it sucked so much but after so many years of hooking up with men from Grindr, I had learned to treat every experience with men, as the last one, because we truly never know when they either block or ghost you or delete their profiles.  

It never would have worked with him anyway.  I have learned that the level of intense chemistry, infatuation and connection is not sustainable, far from real and is not meant to be lived more than once.  I learned this lesson hard over my years.  It definitely stung because my feelings and emotions were raw from my breakup, but I smiled to myself, thanked the Lord for giving me clarity and answers to my prayers wondering if I would ever feel in love again. 

I got my answer.  

Maybe he was my long lost soulmate, maybe he wasn’t but at least I learned my heart still worked. 

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The area was bustling with tourists, corporate daddies and frat-looking bros and every day there felt like a novel on Grindr.

Grindr is always busy, but in Midtown during 8 a.m and 6 p.m is a different animal type of busy. It is the time when men disappear between meetings to get off before returning to conference rooms, emails, spreadsheets, client meetings, and sometimes wives, husbands, kids—or simply an empty apartment. 

I knew because I was one of them. 

During my work hours, I always multi-tasked between Grindr and work.  I literally had “pen-pals” that I would talk to daily and say things like “so how was your deadline yesterday?” or things like “are you feeling better from your headache?”, or even things like “did you have fun at your friend’s birthday dinner last night?”. 

It was indeed that personal. 

Daily conversations. 

Daily flirting.  

Daily fantasy.  

My job wasn’t too demanding, and I had my own cubicle with a good amount of privacy to send nudes left and right.  I was lucky.  My boss also wasn’t able to see me come in or leave so I had a lot of freedom, more than I would like to admit. 

There was a hotel next to my office that had fully-covered bathroom stalls and it was in the basement so the traffic was very low. 

You can imagine where this is going. 

The hotel was discreetly known for those in the area always hunting for casual sex as a low-key and secure hookup spot. 

I was no stranger to this.  

I remember the first time the hotel was introduced to me during my first week on the job.  A mid-twenties investment banker from Barclays Bank introduced the idea to me—he said he had done it in the past (I am sure he did it more times but who cares) and I accepted.  

He gave me step-by-step directions, not because the bathroom was hard to find, but because looking lost in a hotel draws attention. Getting there wasn’t rocket science or an open heart procedure guidance but it needed some pointers for sure to ensure discretion and avoid questioning from hotel staff due to looking lost.  

We agreed to meet around 3 p.m for some jerking off and oral fun, and that’s exactly what we did. 

He told me he was going to be waiting for me already in the stall and to message him as I was coming down the stairs from the ground floor so that he could unlock the door knowing I was the one entering the bathroom.

That’s exactly what I did. 

When I walked into the stall, he was hiding behind the door to make it seem like I opened the door to an empty stall, and immediately closed the stall’s door and locked it right behind me.  He was completely naked. His navy suit and white shirt hung neatly on the hooks inside the stall, and I did the same.   I had told my boss I was going to get a coffee so I allowed myself 30 minutes for a quick encounter, and I figured I could allocate some of that time to fully undress.  

We didn’t really talk because in a situation like that, even whispering if there’s people around can make a big difference and reveal the shenanigans taking place.

We had agreed on what we were going to do so we kissed quietly and started swapping oral sex on each other’s dicks and taking turns until we decided to jerk off and bust our loads on the floor and toilet and go our merry way.

When I dressed up, we made sure there wasn’t anyone outside in the bathroom area or people coming in and out of the restroom.  I exited first, and as I did that, I gave him a thumbs up indicating we were good to go, clear, and the only ones there.

Outside while washing our hands and finishing styling our clothes again, he told me “you are even hotter in person, you are so hot”.  The inner goddess in me was happy.

He was a really good looking guy actually.  I have always liked when men are more assertive and direct and that’s not to say I do not possess those qualities but I am really attracted to that, so I love a good compliment.

He ended up finishing washing and drying his hands first and he whispered that he would see me outside.  

Once outside, we talked a little bit more about the rest of our days, where we lived, et cetera, and he complimented my looks again before saying he would love to do that again. 

He messaged me about an hour later saying he was still thinking about what we had just done, and I was loving the attention. 

I wouldn’t say I felt the same way, but I was comfortable seeing him again. Him and I met up a few times, I would say more than ten times as our schedules allowed.  We even fucked twice in the stall, he was a bottom so I fucked him against the wall quickie style and sitting on the toilet.

Because I had become a local at the hotel bathroom, I even found my favorite stall—some of them were bigger than others, and I usually liked the first stall closest to the door, in case I needed to come out running, and for easy access.  

There were times where I had to hide into one stall or pretend using the urinal because guys were around. And even times where I had to leave for a few minutes and return to meet up with my guy of the day, or viceversa because it was too busy in there and all stalls were taken.

The entire thing no longer felt outrageous and scary. It eventually felt easy and became a routine.  I knew which times were busiest and better. I knew which men were regulars.  I learned the body language of men going to the bathroom to pee intentionally and walk out and the body language of men looking to hook up. 

I was a true local there.  I would go twice a week on average, sometimes more. The Barclays Bank guy was the one I went there the most with but I met a few other guys who also worked in the area who were repeat offenders.  

Literally. 

After all, we were doing something that we shouldn’t have been doing, but no one was watching. 

How bad could public sex be if you don’t get caught?  

I even dated a guy for a few weeks and I fucked him there a few times, one because it was my fantasy, two because his gym was in the area, three because he was the guy I was seeing at the time and fourth, because why the hell not?  

I would sometimes block off one-hour on my calendar for lunch breaks, spend 45 minutes of the full hour fucking in the stall with the guy I dated at the time and returning to my desk with food on my hand and ate it at my desk.  Ironic, but they don’t need to know.

And you would probably wonder, was I productive at work? 

Was I a good employee? 

Was I as reckless at work as I was recklessly having casual sex in a public setting?

Yes,

yes,

and yes.

Did anyone ever say anything to me?

Never.

To your surprise, I was good. I was a good performer, I was a reliable teamplayer. 

I guess multi-tasking truly does exist.  

There were times where I would even do two visits during the day to the stalls.  I would finish with one guy, go back to my desk, and another one would become available, and I would do it during times I felt like I had the opportunity and time. 

A lot of the things that I did back then were pretty wild, but I had so much energy—my libido was always through the roof, and the more sexual encounters I had, the more I wanted.  I often felt insatiable, I must admit.  I found myself wanting more. I always wanted a bigger dick, a sexier body, a juicier ass, a better kisser, a nicer guy.

It always felt like a hunger game of getting the best meal I could possibly get. 

But deep down I wanted love. 

I craved connection, I craved deep conversations, emotions, feelings.  I craved intimacy.  I always hoped a hookup would turn into a strong connection enough to lead to a substantial bond.  I felt like I fell in love every week with a new guy from Grindr. 

It has always been hard for me to not imagine a future with an attractive man with whom I have an amazing chemistry and connection with. Someone to whom not only I am attracted to but also someone who can be naked in front of me and engaging in a comfortable and pleasurable back and forth of passionate moments. 

To me, meeting up with a guy from Grindr always felt like a potential opportunity to finding my person. I have always added a bit of illusion to my encounters hoping they would turn into more.

Looking back, maybe it was delusion rather?

I loved Grindr because it allowed me to meet and connect with men that I just wouldn’t see, or talk to in person, let alone know they were into guys as well.  I truly loved it for that reason, Specially because I lived outside of the area and those type of guys didn’t live in my neighborhood.

Eventually I switched jobs and I worked in a different area in Midtown and had a role that was more needy and demanding of my time, attention, and commitment.

The hotel bathroom stall days were over as I no longer was next door, but I will always think of that hotel in Midtown as the place where so much of my sperm was released and many of my fantasies both romantic and sexual were trying to coexist in my brain.

A factor that turned me on so much about going there was knowing that it was a cruising spot.  Sometimes I would see cum marks on the floor that had dried up, or fresh drops of cum from previous guys they totally missed cleaning in the middle of their rush.  

Looking back, I don’t romanticize that period of my life, but I don’t judge it either. I was twenty-six, my libido was endless, and every hookup carried the tiny hope that maybe that one would become something more. Most never did. But for some time, that anonymous hotel bathroom next to my office became the backdrop for a version of me who confused easy access with connection and possibility with intimacy.

I used to go visit her frequently during the pandemic because I trusted her, felt safe with her not coming back with anything to expose me or my parents and definitely because I wanted to have some social interaction beyond my parents. 

My friend knows everything about my Grindr life, but now that she is married, with kids, she doesn’t know as much of my shenanigans because of timing and schedules but back then, she was a fan. I usually share if I fuck with a really hot guy or someone who looks really promising to be a husband outside of the sex but for the most part not so much these days.  

When COVID took place I was 27. Not so young but not too old, and back then I used to lie about my age. For some reason, I felt like I was in a weird age where I wasn’t considered young nor old, I felt invincible.  So I used to lie about my age on my profile and give myself a good 24.  After all, I have always looked younger than what my birth certificate and ID show so no one has ever argued it. 

I was scrolling on Grindr out of pure boredom.  No one was within a close vicinity and no one really seemed interesting enough moving my car for and driving to them. 

There was this one guy I drove for the day before and we met in a quiet street and we sucked each other off in the middle of the night in my car but again, nothing special.

The next day, while hanging out with my friend in bed, talking about everything and anything and scrolling my Grindr grid,  this profile showed at 0 feet.  He had no photos. 

Upon chatting with him he was indeed in the same building as my friend, and he had only sent body photos.  

He looked like a muscular daddy with a big uncut cock. He told me he didn’t send out face photos which to me normally is a big no as I tend to disengage with guys who refuse to send out their faces and meet with no face, but my friend really wanted to know who it was, after all, it was her neighbor. 

He made sure I didn't truly live in the building or that he knew my friend. He guess he didn't want to shit where he eats and to me that made perfect sense.

I guess I could take one for the team, I told myself. 

The guy made it clear he wanted to top and he wasn’t looking to meet just for oral sex.  I guess with the pandemic we were all in dire need.  I didn’t have a douche with me or anything to prepare for anal so I had to order one on UberEats from CVS.  

If this guy flaked on me I was going to boil. 

I told him I needed about an hour to get ready and he was OK with that, so that alleviated my anxiety, given I had just gone out of my way to bottom for a faceless man. I debated getting on my car and getting the douche myself but it was rainy and that seemed like too much effort to fuck a faceless man. 

The douche arrived and I did what I had to do.  

I messaged him that I was ready and asked for his apartment number to know where I was going and I told my friend. She didn’t know anyone from that apartment personally but she was really looking forward to seeing who it was.  

When I arrived at his place, I noticed he was in his late 40s.  Muscular, taller than me, probably 6’2” and with an accent.  I learned he was from Puerto Rico, and we chatted a bit.  He was very good looking for his age and looked like he took good care of himself and his skin.  

For once a faceless person did not disappoint.

We started kissing and made our way to the bedroom. He had a king size bed and for some weird reason, king beds always turn me on. They remind me of hotels and hotel sex is usually really hot, so it was easy for me to feel aroused by the idea of a big bed. 

He was passionate as fuck. 

I started thinking to myself that I was glad my friend pseudo forced me to do this just to know who in her building was having discreet gay sex, because I was enjoying every bit of it and I hadn’t even been fucked by the time I had that thought. 

As I was laying on the big bed like a Patrick Star, he kissed my neck, licked my ears, licked my chest and nipples. His tongue was working overtime and deserved a performance bonus. 

He was very dominant and to enforce his dominance and show me how much control he had, he told me to turn around, lay on my stomach and bring my head to the side of the bed.  

He face fucked me.  

It was SO hot. 

As he was face fucking me, I felt glorious inside because I was able to take everything with no issues. I was triumphant.  He kept taking his dick in and out of my throat and mouth.  

He then flipped me again and this time, lubed it up and lifted my legs to the air,  and inserted himself raw into me.  

I gasped.  

I wasn’t prepared to be fucked in a matter of seconds. 

I was worried about the raw part of it, because that is not my default. One thing gave me peace: I knew where he lived. 

I was already risking getting COVID, so the risk of getting an STD didn’t seem too far off for me.  

It made sense in my head. 

My rectum expanded quickly and I felt in heaven.  He pulled out for a second and rimmed me for a quick minute before going in again.  He was such a good top.  

We fucked in the same position for a while, I was comfortable, my legs and hips were cramping but he seemed like he was having the time of his life so why switch positions.   He finished inside me with the condom and I jerked off and busted all over me. 

I couldn’t wait to tell my friend. 

When I left, I told my friend what had happened and after I described him, she knew who it was from seeing him around the building and was in disbelief.  He was masculine presenting and at simple gaze, no one would think he loves fucking young lean bottoms on his king size bed.  

Because I was staying the night, he asked if he could fuck me again later that day, and I committed myself to it.  

I wanted more of whatever that was.  

I went from not wanting to be with a faceless man, to going back to his apartment for a second round hours later.  

My friend was hysterically laughing about this shenanigan of mine.  Up until today, we have this game where I tell people “she forced me to fuck her neighbor all because she wanted to see who it was”. She calls me a slut because I went back for more after blaming her that I did something I didn’t want to do and that I did it only because I wanted to.

The entire thing was hilarious to me. 

I went back for more that evening, and again the morning after before driving back to my parents’ place. The second time was really good but the third time I was really sore, so it wasn’t very enjoyable

After I left, he kept asking me when I would be back but timing never really aligned for both of us after that. 

The funny thing is that my friend would message me every time she would see him saying “I ran into your daddy”.  

Fucking bitch. 

The hilarious thing to me is that I went from not wanting to see him, to fucking him three times under 24 hours.  

I guess one can never be too opposed to experiences since you never know what will come out of them.

She worked for a large manufacturing company for a well-known brand and had been promoted to a role that required international travel to oversee operations.  New York was one of her first stops, and then she was off to Asia.

She was nervous about navigating the city alone, so she asked if I could stay with her at her hotel in Koreatown.  There honestly wasn’t much to navigate—her office was only a few blocks—but the hotel had free breakfast, she promised to leave me with spending money every morning, and I had the room to myself all day. 

I was 21.  You already can imagine where this story is going. 

Obviously, as a 21-year-old in the city with a hotel room to myself, I had to go on Grindr and explore profiles nearby after my aunt left for work.  The first day, a Monday, I waited until she told me that she had arrived at her desk, she had told me that the team was going to give her a tour of the building and take her to lunch and dinner and basically I had the entire room to myself. 

I had an extra key, it was the summer time, I had $100 in my pocket that she had just given me, and I had condoms and lube in my backpack. I felt like I could conquer the world.  

She left for work around 7:45AM, which to me is really early so I was alone since that time. My Grindr was booming. I was also tired and really wanted to take naps after she left because  I used to take night classes and that summer I was off from school and was only working a part time job on the weekends as a Host at a restaurant, so my body was already used to sleeping in late. 

My profile was flooded with messages from people in the area – tourists, locals, people that were working in the area, you name it.  I had so many options to choose from. The amount of older men (to me they were older) messaging a 21-year-old was astonishing.  Men in their 30s and 40s willing to risk their discreet lives to have fun with a college student. 

A profile with no photo started messaging me, he was 0 feet away. 

This is someone in the hotel – I told myself. 

With his noticeably translated English texts, this Italian stallion was staying in the hotel two floors above mine, and he wanted to kiss, get his dick sucked and get fucked by me. We agreed to meet quickly in the hallway to say hello before bringing him to my aunt’s room.  

His body was extremely muscular, the type of body that looks like he eats, sleeps and works at the gym. He was 6’3” which in my books is the perfect height and his body was tight and his muscles were strong, not flimsy at all. He was gorgeous, he had really dark Mediterranean hair and features and perfect olive tan skin.  

There was only one problem with him.  

His breath smelled absolutely terrible. 

Maybe it was morning breath since I assume he had just woken up, but it was disgusting to the point I stopped breathing when he would talk. The smell would linger.  I decided to go ahead and hook up with him because he was really sexy and I was turned on.  I figured I could offer him one of my Altoids once we got to the room if I played it cool. 

Instead of taking the elevator, we took the emergency stairs on the way down to my floor, and he kissed me in the middle of it, so passionately and intensely that I had almost forgotten about his bad breath. 

Why does being embraced by a tall muscular man feel so good? 

As promised to myself, once we got into the room I offered him an Altoid after putting one in my mouth and thankfully he accepted it.  His English was really bad and I could barely understand what he was saying but from what I picked up that day, he was visiting with two friends, they were all sharing a room, he was in his early 30s at the time and it was his first time in New York and in United States, like my aunt. 

Inside my aunt’s hotel room, we got on the king sized bed and we did the deed.  I went down to rim him but his butt wasn’t freshly cleaned.  

What the fuck is it with this man and bad smells?! I asked myself. 

He was already in the bed naked, so I did what I do best.  I sucked it up, and I fucked him.  Unfortunately, topping him wasn’t amazing.  He was whiny and he felt as if he didn't bottom often, he could barely take my dick and he kept asking for breaks.  I tried fucking him laying down on his stomach and it was pleasant for him but he would ask me to stop every time I wanted to go fast.  

Doggy was impossible. 

But his face, his face was so beautiful I was willing to let that slide.  

I asked if he wanted to fuck me instead because I was bored and already through the thick of it, to which he agreed, and then we had an amazing time.  I gave him an A for ambition and for venturing out his habitual role.  He fucked me really good and I loved it. Being embraced by a big muscular man feels like nothing else that can be compared.  

We both finished and he seemed like he had been worn out and I made him work hard for his load.  I guess I was energized but didn't feel quite satisfied. He left and for some reason I wanted to fuck a hot ass.

Thirty minutes after the Italian left, I realized I wanted to seek more.

So I did the only logical thing one can do with an empty hotel room and too much free time would do. 

I grabbed my phone and went on Grindr again. 

The second guy arrived wearing a polo shirt before going into work.  He was confident, knew exactly what he wanted and the chemistry was instantly better. 

He sucked my dick like his life depended on it. Sloppy and slow, hands free, I was enjoying it so much as I was sitting on the edge of the bed and he was on his knees on the carpeted floor.  When I felt like I needed ass, I made him go on the bed and get on his fours and fucked the shit out of him. 

Shockingly enough, my second load was very intense.  The first one with the Italian from 30 mins ago wasn’t that enjoyable but this other one with this second guest felt amazing, left me almost gasping for air.  He jerked off after I came and had asked me to stop fucking him.  

He left as quickly as he arrived and I was pretty content with the transaction we both had.  

I love when hookups go straight into it and I’m left happy.

After he left I felt wiped out.  I turned the AC down to the lowest temperature possible and passed out. 

Around noon I woke up and found myself horny again. I did what I do best, I went on Grindr and answered more messages and saw who else was around.  I messaged a couple of guys for about an hour.  I didn’t quite know what I wanted at the time since I had been both bottom and top in the morning, I still wasn’t sure what else my body wanted to feel. While navigating and planning my next guest, my aunt had texted me to see how I was doing and enjoying the room and what I have been up to.  I lied and said I had been sleeping all morning and had just recently woken up and reassured her that everything was under control on my end.  

I allowed the messages to come and go as they usually do on Grindr until I agreed to host this late 20s local guy who was at his place.  He came over and we talked a bit before getting to business. We had agreed to just jerk off and suck each other off and to me that felt like the best move after fucking two guys in the morning hours.  He was nice, really nice actually.  We ended up kissing after he said he didn’t want to kiss but he asked me for it.   

When he left I was famished and I had stepped outside to get some food and some shopping.  After a while it was really hot and I ended up going back to the room.  I was bored, no summer classes, no work for me in the summer during the week, all of my friends were having different summer experiences as some of them were traveling, working or taking classes.  I turned on the TV and watched something mindless that was playing while at the same time aimlessly chatting on Grindr. 

Looking back, I genuinely don’t understand the hormonal imbalance that existed inside 21-year-old me. 

I had agreed to give head to a fourth guest during his work lunch break.  He came into the room looking like a hot corporate daddy, he pulled his pants down and I did what we agreed on.  Admittedly I don’t remember much but I know his dick was big and he shot a big load.  

Thankfully, housekeeping came by later that afternoon, changed the sheets, vacuumed the room and made it look as though absolutely nothing had happened there. 

My aunt returned from work completely unaware that her quiet hotel room had hosted what was arguably the business day of my Grindr career. 

The next two days felt like a copy paste of the prior day.  I was ravenous for sex and I was solo in the room those two other days and had nothing better to do.  I had a lot of fun and that is for sure.   

Looking back at it now, I don’t think the funniest part is that I hooked up with so many guys in my aunt’s hotel room.  The funniest part is how completely normal it felt to 21-year-old me. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about how ridiculous the situation was. I just thought, “Well… I have the room until 5PM”.

Throughout my time in Tokyo and Osaka, I hadn’t really had much sex fun.  I did meet an amazing guy with whom I am still in touch with in Osaka who was also staying in my hotel.

We met at the onsen where we were all fully naked. Onsen baths are most commonly for same sex people so it was easy to play some eye contact game. He is from Australia and we had such amazing chats in the onsen and when attraction and eye contact finally got the best of us, when nobody was around we kissed on the last day.

We didn’t leave the onsen until our boners got the best of us, and we decided to move things upstairs to his room. He was really nice. Honestly pretty compatible for a husband, but it always happens that I meet the best men outside of New York in different countries.

Am I the only one who finds the love of his life when I travel?

The Australian is another story of his own.

When I got to Kyoto, I was bored overall, the city felt boring beyond the temples, at least to me, so when my friend went to bed I would go on Grindr hoping to find something.  I met with two guys in Kyoto and I was very happy because they were both great in bed. 

The first guy I met was a ridiculously attractive 6’6” British former rugby player with a corporate job and thighs the size of me. His dick–uncut, obviously–wasn’t particularly big by my standards, but his ass was enormous and hairy, and I was completely into him. He was sweet, passionate, and somehow even hotter in person. I secretly wished he’d wanted dinner instead of only sex, but after we finished we both went our separate ways and enjoyed Japan like the tourists we both were.

No notes. 

I left his hotel feeling satisfied and tucked myself into bed while my friend was sleeping on the next bed. 

The next day after the day of touristy items and dinner were done, I intentionally had eaten light hoping I would get fucked that evening.  I really wanted to get fucked.  It had been almost three weeks since I’d been fucked at the time, and by then it was the only thing on my mind. 

After my friend went to sleep I continued chatting with a guy I had been chatting with but the timing didn’t align.  He was really good looking from Portugal and he was in Japan working for one of the most luxurious hotels in Kyoto.  He told me he had a corporate role and they send him to oversee the hotels from time to time in different cities.

I need that job.  

Time was in my favor and it finally aligned. At 1AM I jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom to douche myself.  Getting ready to bottom in Japan is actually such a luxury and quite the experience with their fancy toilets full of features.  It took me like 30 minutes to get ready for bottoming and to arrive at his hotel which wasn’t far from mine, and when I got there, I was in awe of the hotel.  

Ritzy, expensive, luxurious, boujee.  

It smelled like a lot money. 

The guy was staying on the Penthouse floor, and it was then when I realized I was going to have a blast. The luxury of the hotel made me hornier.

He was my age, white but also had Mediterranean features at the same time.  He had thick black hair and beautiful green eyes and really soft thick pink lips.  His body wasn’t muscular or anything of that nature but he was in decent shape.  His dick looked huge from the photos so I was euphoric for it.

In the room, he offered me everything and anything from the mini bar and fridge, with his thick accent but perfect use of English, we talked for a while before even kissing or doing anything.  He kept complimenting me about how beautiful I am, how sexy I am, and all of those things.  I was in heaven and I couldn’t wait for the fuckery to start.  He was a big conversationalist and highly intellectual and smart. 

God, I love hooking up with 

European men. 

We started kissing and I could have kissed him all night and done nothing else. His lips were so soft.

One thing led to the other and we did absolutely everything.  This man was the first in line when passion was being given out to people as a trait to have.  He was passionate as if his life depended on it.  Tender, soft, romantic, deep and intense eye gaze, all of it.  

His dick, also uncut, was admittedly bigger and thicker than the photos promised. I was scared at first but my mom didn’t raise a quitter, so I was up for the challenge.

During our conversations, he explained his philosophy on open relationships and why he didn’t believe monogamy was realistic. I didn’t agree, but I also wasn’t in Kyoto at 2AM to debate relationship theory. I wasn’t about to debate monogamy at 2AM while trying to fit nine thick inches inside me. 

One thing led to the other and we got into business.  This man was an insane lover, and an even more incredible top.  He knew how to use that big dick.  We used every inch of the king size bed in every single position you can think of.  I am very flexible and he was having a blast seeing my legs in places people normally don’t extend their legs to.  

He rimmed like his life also depended on it.  I don’t know if this man was like this with everyone or he was just really into me, but I wish every man, gay or straight, shit even women, get to experience this guy.  I placed him in the top five best sex of my life.  To all of this, it was around 3AM and none of us had busted the first nut.  We kept taking breaks, not because we needed it nor because we wanted to avoid finishing, but because truly we were just submerged in the connection and chemistry that we were both taking the moment and everything in.  

I was having the best boyfriend experience from a stranger.  

We started fucking again and this time we started filming the moment with my phone.  Looking at the videos now I shiver.  I am getting fucked on my back with my legs all over him, and for a second I thought I was going to be able to cum hands-free.

I had never had that feeling. 

I have never been able to make it.  I have topped guys who have been able to cum hands-free from me fucking them, which I think is so hot. I have felt my body close to it but never really experienced it.  I kept feeling a weird sensation thinking I was going to reach ejaculating hands-free.  I just felt it coming.  

What actually happened blew my mind.  

For a split second, I thought I was about to finally, for the first time ever, cum hands-free. 

Instead, something else happened. 

I looked down and genuinely thought I had just peed all over myself. 

I started peeing (that’s what it looked like, like clear piss) all over me and the bed.  He kept fucking the shit out of me. Uncontrollably, I kept pushing more and more and more kept coming out of my urethra. He was screaming in his accent “fuck yes”, “hell yes”, “fucking amazing baby”. I didn’t understand what the fuck was going on and I couldn’t make it stop and he was still fucking me.

It was the most intense feeling I have ever felt in my entire life during sex.  

The bed was half wet.  

He finished almost right after I finished squirting and then I finished too. 

For about 3 seconds I genuinely thought something had gone catastrophically wrong.  

He, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted. He asked me very casually but surprised, “have you ever squirted before?”. 

Wait.. is that what just happened?! 

He confirmed that it was squirting and gave me an almost dictionary explanation about it. Once I understood what my body had just done, my embarrassment left my body and my inner goddess started dancing inside.  He himself was very happy and smiley that he had done that.  He told me he makes his partner squirt all the time, which I found funny of him to bring up considering he just fucked the piss out of me. Literally. This whole open relationship thing doesn’t make sense in my brain but I digress. 

To all of this, the sun was starting to rise, it was gorgeous.  I was starting to feel tired. I proceeded to take a shower under the overhead rain shower in the luxury bathroom and he followed me and asked me if he could join me.  I think we spent another hour in the shower, I swear.  

We had more deep conversations about life and the world, and ourselves.  We continued kissing and our dicks just wouldn’t go down.   I sucked him off in the shower and swallowed his nut this time and it tasted delicious.  

Is there anything bad about this man!? 

When we dried he made the bed and made room for me thinking I was going to stay. I laughed and said I couldn’t stay, my friend was expecting me and we were going sight seeing later that day.  I was exhausted.  It was going to be my last day in Kyoto before heading to the next city.  As much as I wanted to stay over, I just couldn’t because I wanted to sleep a few hours in bed and get up and get on with my day.  Besides, admittedly, I was fucked out already. I couldn’t take any more.  The vibrations from the sex were still running high through my body.  

As I started getting ready to leave, I was wondering if he and his partner had that type of intense sex every time.  If that was with me, a stranger, how much more amazing could he do with someone he truly loves?  This man had to be sent from above or something. I kept on wondering how often he does this during his work trips and how his past experiences have been with others, not from jealousy but from a point of curiosity because he was so good I feel like everyone should have the same experience I did.  

I left that hotel exhausted, slightly delirious, and with about fifty tabs open on my iPhone trying to understand what had just happened to my body.  

Before that night, I truly didn’t know men could squirt. 

The moment I got back to my hotel I kept on reading what I had been Googling. Asked ChatGPT. Went on Reddit. Read medical articles and forums. Anything. 

I was amazed. 

Somewhere in Kyoto, a European executive accidentally sent me down an internet rabbit hole I never expected to fall into. 

I haven’t forgotten him. 

Next time I am in Europe, I need to check if he is available.

A guy in his late forties messaged me.  He was attractive – or at least I thought so. I have always had a habit of finding something beautiful about people, even when they aren’t conventionally attractive. 

Before anything else, he wanted proof that I was actually the person in my photos. I hate to admit this, but there’s a tiny part of me that lights up whenever someone asks me to do that. It feels like they’re saying “There’s no way someone who looks like you is actually talking to me”. 

I sent him a Live photo and asked him to do the same. 

A little while later, he asked me when I was free to host. My workday was effectively over; I was only still online for appearances. I told him I was free later that afternoon. 

He said he could head my way in thirty minutes or so. 

Then he asked me something no Grindr hookup had ever asked me before. 

“Do you want food?” 

As a jaded New Yorker, I wasn't sure whether to be touched by the gesture or concerned that I was about to be poisoned. 

When I asked what the options were, he replied “I own an Italian restaurant, whatever you want”. 

Of course this was happening to me. 

He told me to Google the restaurant and order anything from the menu. I sat there laughing to myself while scrolling through pasta dishes for a man who was, in theory, on his way over to have sex with me and I will most likely never see him again. 

I opened Safari on my iPhone and proceeded to look up the restaurant as instructed and I told him what I wanted.  I don’t recall which pasta I asked him for, but I do remember that when he got home he arrived with extra food.  I remember he brought salad, bread, and another pasta dish. I swear it was enough food to feed a family of four for that evening, I literally ate for three days straight. 

When he arrived, he was very polite. He had some sort of assertiveness that was really attractive to me.  I am not sure if it was the New York Italian in him or the boss in charge part of him that gave me that energy.  He gave me the food like it was not a big deal, as if he gives free food every day to guys.  He probably does but I was still amazed at the entire thing. For all I know, I was just another Tuesday special. Chicken Parm, garlic knots, and a blowjob, with rimming as dessert. 

I invited him to sit on my couch and we were chatting for a bit.  I learned he lived on Long Island and that he was married as well living a straight life, on the down-low. I didn’t really care to be quite frank, I wanted to have fun.  

He smelled good. 

For some reason I wasn’t expecting him to smell good. He was wearing one of those colognes that have a scent that instantly turns you on. I wasn’t particularly expecting him to smell like sauce and garlic but it surely wasn’t in my books for him to smell that good. 

He asked me if he could kiss me and I was ready for it.  He grabbed me by my neck and started kissing me.  He had a mustache that I found awfully attractive despite feeling like I was kissing half hair, half lips.  I sat on top of him and he grabbed my ass with one hand and kept grabbing my neck with the other hand.  He enforced his dominance and let me know right there and then that he wanted to be in control and I surrendered to him.  

I started undressing him and exploring his hairy body.  He wasn’t fit but he had a decent body – a body that made sense for someone who wasn’t at the gym every day but rather on his feet all day walking around.  I undressed him fully and started performing oral on him.  His dick was really nice, it tasted delicious.  It wasn’t squeaky clean but I liked the natural state it had from being at work all day. 

He pushed me to my bed and laid me on my stomach and spread my legs and started eating my ass.  He ate me out for a few minutes and it felt amazing.  He asked me if I had condoms and I took a quick second to hand him a condom.  He told me to go back to the same position I was when he was eating my ass and I did exactly that.  

He fucked me passionately and rough.  It lasted like a good 12 minutes and I enjoyed it so much.  The entire time he had me in the same position and while normally I love to switch positions, I wanted to please him and give him whatever he wanted.  When he finished we chatted a little more until he left and headed back to the restaurant.   

I thanked him for the food and told him I had a good time with him. It always feels so weird thanking a stranger for having casual sex with us, as if they aren’t fully in for the same thing. It’s almost like a selfish synergy that makes sense for both parties and no one is required to be polite after its done and over with. 

After he left, I ate my pasta and called a friend to share the new encounter.  

Him and I chatted for a bit after it happened for a few days but eventually we stopped talking.  I was traveling or really busy with work to the point I couldn’t make time for him or he was really tied up at the restaurant and eventually, we lost touch.

But I always remember the men who ate my ass, fucked me good and fed me.

I went to visit them earlier this year to meet their new puppy, catch up with my friend and overall spend quality time with them.  I was working remotely, my friend and her husband were both at work so I was home alone for one day while I was and hung out with them during the weekend. 

As one of my closest friends, she has witnessed my entire Grindr era and knows more about my sex life than most licensed therapists probably should.  She is always enjoying my stories more than me and highly believes the majority of men are gay or at least bisexual. 

They live in a military gated residential area where all the houses look the same and the small neighborhood is overall very nice and suburban allocated for the military staff and their families who have to relocate with them for short term assignments. 

During my time staying with them, I was responding to my Grindr messages accumulated from New York prior to flying to their home and proceeded to refresh my grid of profiles within my radius to see what was around.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single military profile in sight. Just guys five, ten, fifteen, twenty miles away. 

God, I am so not in Manhattan. 

People actually drive twenty miles to get laid? That alone deserved military appreciation. 

I felt blessed to live in Manhattan knowing that I could walk or take a quick train or car ride for some good steamy fun. 

I went to bed tired and admittedly disappointed but when I woke up, I got lucky. 

There were two profiles nearby. One of them was a profile with no photo and zero stats and the other one, the guy wasn’t really my type so I had blocked him to prevent him from messaging me. The other one without a profile photo messaged me and sent me some body pictures. He looked like the hottest guy.  

I told myself “This is my fucking chance!” 

The guy interrogated me. 

He asked me who I was, where I was from. He ensured I was truly visiting and not a local of the area and definitely not in the military. He asked me to send my photos first, and asked me twice if I was in the military.

Once he was convinced I wasn’t a local, wasn’t military, and wasn’t about to ruin his life, the security clearance disappeared and he turned into a horny man looking for sex. 

After the interrogation was over, he sent his face and his location.  His body was hotter than his face but who cares when you are about to fuck with a military man? 

He was a few houses down the street. 

He asked me if I could host him and I said absolutely not.  Although I could have easily done so because at that point I was already home alone but I would never disrespect my friends like that.  

I could be anything, but being disrespectful to someone’s home was not one of them.

I explained that to him and he understood and proposed his house but he told me we needed to be extremely discreet because he had a girlfriend.  

He asked me what I wanted to do and I told him I was game for anything.  He said he wanted to suck my dick and have me fuck him, and the whole idea was pretty hot.  

To all of this, naturally, I had one important question: 

“Are you wearing the uniform?”

He told me he only had a tshirt, combat boots and pants on while still slowly getting ready for his work day. 

He said he only had 30 minutes before class. 

I can work with this.  

When I packed I had forgotten condoms and lube because I had been so busy with life and work that I literally packed yesterday before my flight and as a typical New Yorker, I was in a rush. 

I told him I had no condoms but that I had recently been tested negative of all STDs, and that was true. 

I quickly got ready to head out and I hoped for the best.  

The entire dynamic happened pretty quickly.  I blocked my calendar for an hour and told him I could walk over to him whenever he told me he was ready.  My friends hadn’t given me spare keys so I left the front door unlocked and hoped for the best overthinking if someone was secretly watching me walk out and breaking into the house, but I knew deep down nothing would happen given I was in a private gated community for the military only.  

I guess survival instincts. 

I stepped outside as if I was going on a hot girl walk in lounge wear, pretending to be in my fitness era, until I made a discreet turn a few houses down the street into his house at the location he sent me. 

He told me he would leave the garage half open and instructed me to go under it and meet him inside it because we couldn’t fuck inside his house.  

When I got to the inside of his garage, I noticed him right away.  He had that insane military stance and moved quickly to close the garage.  

We didn’t talk.  

I walked up to him and he started kissing me immediately.  He was shaking and I touched his shoulders in hopes his nerves would ease down and calm him before everything else followed.  

He wasn’t taller than me but he was a solid 5'10”, muscular, broad shoulders, big arms and thick legs and he looked like his photos. 

When he started unbuckling his pants I discreetly snapped a mental photo because opportunities and moments like this don’t exactly come around every Friday morning.  

Thankfully, I had accidentally-on-purpose gone commando that morning. I had walked over to his place already with a semi erection.  The entire thing turned me on so much.

I pulled my pants down and he immediately reached my hard cock and started masturbating it and kneeling down before bringing it to his mouth.

He could use some oral skills.

He had already pulled his pants down as he was still wearing his combat military boots.  I was going crazy in my head because the moment felt extremely hot. 

Within seconds, despite his mediocre oral skills, I felt like my dick was hard enough to fuck him, I pulled him back and made him lean against the car parked inside the garage and went behind him and spat on my cock and started introducing myself to him. 

He was incredibly tight. 

I kept spitting on my dick to make sure it was wet enough for insertion given we didn’t have any lubricant and he was tight, assuming he doesn’t get fucked often.

After a few attempts, I made it in. 

He felt incredible. 

I fucked him for a good 5 minutes until he told me to stop because he couldn’t take me anymore.  I saw it coming because the man had agony and discomfort all over his face from taking my dick deep and while it turned me on tremendously, I respected his boundary. 

In light of time, we both ended up jerking off and busting our loads.  I told him I would swallow to make sure we didn’t leave any traces of cum behind and asked him if he would swallow me to which he said no. 

He told me to wait and quickly ran inside and got some paper towels for me to finish onto.  His pants were still down so I tried hard to not laugh after seeing him walk funny.

When he came back with paper towel on hand. I started sucking him off and he came almost immediately. 

Efficient.  

Very on brand for the military. 

I continued to jerk off and was focused on making it quickly due to time and once I finished I wiped myself off, handed him the used paper towel and got ready to leave.  

He went back to the same spot he was in when I arrived and opened the garage door for me to leave and that is exactly what I did.  

I left and walked back to my friends’ house and luckily when I got back the house was intact, I guess I was in a safe place indeed after all. 

When I opened Grindr with the intention of sending him a thank-you message-because I am a gentleman and manners first–his profile already showed “Offline”.  

He deleted his profile. 

Within minutes.

I wasn’t offended.  I was a visitor, we had discussed nothing except sex, and he had a girlfriend. The transaction had ended exactly as it began: quickly and discreetly. 

The whole moment was absurdly hot, wildly risky, and somehow perfectly organized. I was happy a mere mortal like me was living this experience. 

Ten out of ten.  

As soon as I got back I sent my friend a voice note recounting everything that had just happened in the last hour, from messaging to me leaving his garage, and she was in shocked but not in disbelief.

She was wondering if she knew him or at least had seen him around the neighborhood. I described him and by my description she thought she might have seen him before in passing.

While I was there I showed her the house as we drove by and days later after I was back in the city, she told me she had seen him with his alleged girlfriend taking groceries out of the car and we both laughed out loud and talked about the story again.

To my anonymous military neighbor: thank you so much for your God damn service. 

Pun absolutely intended.

I met Ryan when I was in Miami during the pandemic in 2020 and then again in 2022 in NYC.  In 2020, because the pandemic was obviously so bad everywhere, I fled NYC and went down to Miami where I had heard things were a lot leaner and more relaxed compared to New York.  I got an Airbnb in Brickell for two weeks and had the best time.  I was working remotely, hanging out with friends who were visiting and also local, and I was hooking up and having fun - although irresponsibly risky, nothing happened to me and I didn’t get COVID, or not at least during those days. 

The first time I met Ryan was after a night out, I had gotten back from the bars in Wynwood and my friend and I had been drinking all day.  I wasn’t particularly tired nor sleepy but I wasn’t drunk either.  My friend was ready for bed and I wanted to continue catching a vibe.  I was determined to hook up, so I put my friend into bed, sprayed some fresh cologne, ensured my private parts were clean and fresh because I was in Miami after all and dancing so I had been sweating as expected. 

I transitioned to the lobby area of the building so my friend could sleep and I was confident I would get some fun in a few minutes and that is exactly what happened.  This guy with no profile photo messaged me and we chatted for like 20 minutes until we agreed to meet up.  He was really close to my building and I walked over to his place.  He was my type - 6’2”, average muscular body, not the body that is at the gym everyday but the body that goes to the gym here and there and doesn’t limit themselves to what they eat.  He didn’t have a six pack but he felt strong and fit from the photos he sent me. I told him to meet down in the lobby because he was a stranger after all, and he did.  He had blue eyes and was really handsome.  He wasn’t as masculine as I normally am attracted to but I liked him somehow.  

When we went upstairs, I noticed his apartment loft and it was very nicely decorated, masculine and simple.  After chatting more with him, I learned he was also from NYC like me, working remotely riding out the pandemic for a few months.  He had rented an furnished apartment in Brickell for six months.  

I was really attracted to him. 

He kissed passionately, carried himself with confidence and made me feel desired almost immediately. 

He started kissing super passionately and cuddling and feeling each other, he told me he wanted to shower with me and I agreed to it.  Before we had sex, he suggested we shower together. It felt unexpectedly intimate for someone. I had just met. We stood there talking, touching, and getting to know each other while the water ran over us. 

He was a very nice-jewish-boy, as he described himself.  We dried each other and then went back to bed and continued doing everything we were doing, but this time we initiated anal sex.  I sat on top of him and inserted his small dick into me and it was enjoyable, truly.  I was really attracted to him and his size wasn’t going to ruin the moment for me.  The room was dimly lit and he had some house music playing at a reasonable volume.

We switched positions and he told me to lie on my stomach and he continued fucking me. For some weird reason, he pulled out of me and started just rubbing his dick against my hole and asscheeks.  I was confused.   I asked him if he didn’t want to fuck or cum anymore and he said “not at all, I just love rubbing my dick like this”.  

I had never met anyone who preferred doing that. He seemed genuinely fascinated by it. I was almost confused.

He had me. 

He was fucking me and he pulled out to rub his dick agaisnt my ass. 

I guess there’s a first for everything. 

He continued doing a mix of both topping me and rubbing his dick on my ass for a while, I would say like 45 minutes before he finished.  At this point I was bored and his dick wasn’t really doing much for me, but I am not a quitter and I wanted him to have fun and finish. When he finished he asked me if I wanted to sleep over and cuddle all night and normally that isn’t something I do but a few factors made me feel safe: he was a few buildings next to my building, he was truly really passionate and loving, and he was also someone who made me feel safe and he created a safe space for me.  

So I did.  

I glanced over my phone to look at the time and it was like 3AM at that point and I sent a message to my friend who was deep asleep that I was going to stay over so she wouldn’t worry when I wasn't home when she woke up. 

Ryan was really sweet, he turned all the lights off and made sure I was really comfortable and felt good.  He spooned me like the gentleman he is and he was tender and gentle. I passed out because tiredness at that point had already hit my body, but I remember only sleeping for like 3 hours deep because I normally couldn’t sleep next to anyone, or at least wasn’t used to.  

It was almost 7AM when I woke up. Ryan’s arm was still wrapped around me. He hadn’t moved all night.  For someone who rarely slept next to other people, I found that strangely intimate. I did my best to move his arm and body so I could get up but I wasn’t successful. He woke up and asked me where I was going, and I told him, I couldn’t sleep and that I wanted to go back to my place and it was already 7AM.  In his sleepy voice he told me to stay or if he could see me later and I told him I could do both, and smiled. 

I thought it was so cute.  

He opened his arms again to embrace me and I went right back into his arms. I couldn't really fall asleep and probably 40 minutes later, but his dick started getting hard and I moved his arm and made myself down to him and got to business.  In the morning, we didn't have sex but I sucked him off to completion, jerked off and left. 

We messaged on Grindr throughout the day about what we were up to, getting to know more about each other, and planning on seeing each other again in the evening.  I was leaving the next day so I really wanted to see him but I also wanted to enjoy my last night. I was getting many messages from other guys but I really wanted to spend more time with him.  

The night came and I was really tired but I wanted to see him one last time. I had already finished packing and thankfully my friend and I didn’t hit the clubs as my friend was flying really early next day. I didn't want to leave my friend alone during our last night.  I messaged Ryan that I was going to be free later at night and he told me he was going to wait for me. 

I made it clear that I wasn’t going to stay the night because my friend was going to leave early in the AM but that I was open to leaving late or in the middle of the night. 

Our night was pretty much a repeat of our first time, great conversations, shower, cuddle, and him rubbing himself against my ass.   The sex wasn’t precisely amazing but I was trying to just enjoy the moment and have a good time with him.  He was very intellectual and held conversations amazingly and a part of me was deeply fantasizing I could see him in NYC or keep in touch with him.  

I don’t know why but sharing our phone numbers never really came to mind. I guess we were both just really in the moment and having fun that we didn’t really prioritize. I left in the morning and I was in a rush to ensure my friend and I had a nice farewell moment and I needed to gather myself for my flight back to NYC. 

Between the pandemic, life, me getting into a short relationship, and everything that happens in between, we lost touch.  

Years later, in 2022, I was in my apartment in the city and it was a hot summer day and a profile messaged me telling me he was in the area visiting a friend and free looking for fun before leaving the area. I allowed him to come by and immediately he felt familiar. We didn’t have a chat history which means either of us had deleted their profile.  I truly don’t remember, it had been over a year.  For some reason I hadn’t recognized him, he had sent new photos, his demeanor was different, more confident or maybe more jaded, who knows.  

During the act, I couldn’t place it. The face, the voice, the way he looked at me, it all felt familiar.  

When we were having sex he kept staring into my eyes and it wasn’t until he was fucking me from behind and asked to pull out and started rubbing himself against me again.  I turned around mid-act and it hit me. I looked at him and I yelled RYAN!? And he laughed and he told me he was wondering how it was going to take me to remember it was him.  I guess it was a sexual memory? Admittedly we met at night those two times in Miami so let's blame it on the darkness of evenings, but to me it was hysterical to me how rubbing his dick against me was what ringed the light of the memory.  

When I remembered, I asked him if he knew, and he told me he had a feeling it was me but he wasn’t sure, and then it dawned on him when he saw me in person.  We caught up about what he had been up to, and life.   He told me he was moving to the area where I lived and destiny felt surreal.  I felt as if I was going to have a chance and pick up where we left off.  He told me wanted to make sure he didn’t lose me this time and this time around he really made sure we exchanged everything, he took my number and my Instagram. 

He came over a few times, and we continued to chat and get to know each other a little more.  Unfortunately, he was not great at communication in the end.  He was reading my messages and not responding,, taking days to respond, playing hard to get and make plans with, so I eventually stopped investing.  

I confronted him about it and told him how I felt and nothing changed, he just said he sometimes wanted his space and didn’t want to talk but that it wasn’t personal and that he really liked me.  I told him that I understand and respected those boundaries but they did not align with what I wanted in a relationship, and I say relationship because he said he wanted to date me this time around and not lose sight of me again as we did after Miami. 

Eventually I stopped investing.  I had already told him how I felt. Nothing changed. He wanted the benefits of closeness without the effort required to build it, so I let him go. 

Eventually he used to look at my stories and comment on them but I never engaged again.  I dated my now ex for a few years whom I also met later that same year.  I remember Ryan texted me one day asking me for a date and to truly talk and let me know how he truly felt about me and I messaged him back at the next day that his message was really nice and sweet but that he was a bit late as I was already serious and invested with someone else and I wasn’t interested in him any longer.   I always really liked him and I always thought he could have gone to good places romantically but he never really put in the effort I like in partners. A few years later, all while still having my now ex, he was checking my Instagram, even while posting photos with someone he was dating at the time. I guess he never stopped thinking about me. At that point I had removed him as a follower and stopped unfollowing him so he was manually looking me up and seeing what I was up to.

I always thought Ryan and I had potential. Not because our sex was extraordinary and not because we had some epic romance, but because when life brought us back together, it felt like there was something worth exploring. In the end, attraction was never our problem. Timing wasn’t either. Effort was the problem, and eventually, I stopped waiting for him to put in any effort.

This older guy — I believe he was in his 40s at the time — was messaging me and we were just aimlessly flirting back and forth. I didn’t believe it when he told me that he worked at a jewelry store and that he was looking for fun.

I kept asking how this would even work given he was at a commercial store and he told me that he, as the store owner, could do whatever he wanted. He said he could shut the blinds and close the doors and put up a “Be Right Back” sign and I told myself this man really had it all figured out already for himself to have fun at his store.

Easy.

Eventually the conversation shifted from fantasy to logistics. He asked me if I wanted to try it out and pay him a visit at the store and fuck him in the bathroom. I said, “Sure, why not?” I had to try this.

He was less than 10 minutes away from my office. A quickie was totally doable and work was slow and boring anyway. I blocked my calendar and told my teammates I was going to run a quick personal errand. Luckily I always carried condoms and a small bottle of lube in my gym bag, so I grabbed them discreetly before leaving.

I was walking around the jewelry district trying to figure out which store was his. He had already hung up the “BE RIGHT BACK” sign and gave me instructions to find the correct store since there were so many right next to each other.

He looked older than his photos, but by that point I was already invested because he had a really nice ass based on his photos. He was also wearing a suit and tie, and who says no to a man in a suit? Especially a salesman with a hot ass?

When I arrived at the store the blinds were already shut and the lights on the main floor were dimmed to a softer glow, though still bright enough to see clearly. He told me to follow him. We didn’t have much to talk about since we had already been chatting for about two hours, so it felt redundant trying to make conversation in person.

He was noticeably Italian with a thick New York accent, a bigger build, and salt and pepper hair. I towered over him. He had a ring on, so I assumed he was married to a woman based on his demeanor. I didn’t really ask many questions, even in our chat, but it felt like a safe assumption.

The store wasn’t big and he quickly led me to the bathroom, which was tiny but it worked for what we were about to do. Because the bathroom was so small, he told me he needed to walk in first so I could stand behind him.

He sat on the toilet and sucked my dick for a few minutes before getting up, pulling his pants down, and turning around. He was still fully clothed and so was I. I put on a condom and fucked him from behind while we were both standing, him bracing himself against the toilet. He was moaning loudly and I kept wondering if people outside could hear him, though the bathroom was all the way in the back of the store so most likely not.

The encounter was rather quick, under 30 minutes, but I had a great time.

I found the whole thing really funny. It seemed perfectly curated, as if he did this every day and purposely carved time out during work hours to have fun.

I couldn’t stop wondering how many other jewelry store owners in Midtown were doing the exact same thing during the middle of the workday.

Read more

But this time I wanted something different.

Something anonymous.
Something uninhibited.
Something where attraction, rejection, and standards disappeared completely.

So I grabbed a white bedsheet, scissors, and duct tape.

That’s when the messages started flooding in.

(continued in paid story)

I went to college in Manhattan and my campus was near a busy area of the city.  Before class started, my friends and I were pretending to discuss the upcoming quiz while secretly figuring out how to survive it with Quizlet, I was also multitasking on Grindr and responding to my ongoing chats of the evening.  I wasn’t particularly looking to get laid that night but being 22 in New York meant always remaining spiritually available for a hot man with good timing who could host and was not a flake, am I right?

A blank profile named “Cali Visitor” messaged me. He was obviously discreet because he didn’t have stats on his profile but his introduction messages seemed nice enough to me. 

He told me he was visiting from Los Angeles for work and admitted fairly quickly that he was married to a woman. Normally, I didn’t ask many questions about relationship status because, truthfully, I had already compartmentalized the entire ecosystem in my head. Men on Grindr were there for the same reason I was there – to get laid. Everything else felt like background noise and I genuinely couldn’t care any less for it.  

He also seemed deeply concerned about STDs, which struck me as ironic considering he was planning on cheating on his wife in a Manhattan hotel room during his work trip with a college student he met on a dating/sex app.

Still, he was attractive, charming, and staying twenty minutes away from campus. 

That was good enough for me. 

I finished my accounting quiz, which I passed mostly thanks to Quizlet, and messaged him afterward to see if he still wanted to meet. He said he was very interested and sent me the hotel details immediately right after.

I remember stopping in a campus bathroom before leaving. I worked all day and then went to class so I always carried a small douche to be prepared for sex when moments like this took place, so I performed a quick rinse which only took me like 10 minutes and I was good to go.  My life felt absurd sometimes. One minute I was taking an accounting exam, and twenty minutes later I was preparing to meet a married man from out of town in a hotel room somewhere in Manhattan. 

At 22, that somehow felt normal, or maybe I had already normalized it. 

The train was delayed, obviously, because New York enjoys humbling you whenever possible, but eventually I made it uptown to his hotel. At the time I was still living at home and I had already lied to my parents and told them I was getting dinner with friends after class.

When I walked into the hotel lobby, I immediately spotted him.

He was tall, early forties, handsome in an effortless way that made him feel older and calmer than the men I usually met in the city. He looked like someone who belonged in airport lounges in a suit and his laptop. I remember thinking that if every man in Los Angeles looked like him, I needed to book a flight immediately. 

He introduced himself as Adam and led me upstairs. I was so mesmerized I didn’t even look at what floor he pressed. He was a gentleman and made me go in front of him when exiting the elevator and when he opened the door to his room.

The room was softly lit, music playing from his laptop near the desk. Nothing about it felt rushed or chaotic. That surprised me. Most Grindr encounters in your twenties feel vaguely transactional, like both people are speed-running intimacy before someone loses interest.

We talked about our days. He asked about school, my major, and what I wanted to do after graduation. At some point he asked if I wanted to shower together, and I remember thinking there was something strangely intimate about the question. 

I walked into the bathroom naked, trying to look more confident than I felt. First thing, he complimented me and called me a sexy boy.  I gave myself an imaginary pad on the back because my entrance was triumphant.   

He started undressing and shared that he had already showered but that he wanted to enjoy my body, and again, as the gentleman that he is, he let me into the shower first.  The water was already running hot, I felt it running through my body and he came behind me and started touching and caressing my body with his hands full of soap. 

I felt his dick getting hard behind me and I just loved it.  It turned me on so much knowing that I had him, a tall man right behind me with his soapy hands all over my torso.  The shower itself wasn’t even particularly sexual but this felt so seductive. I mostly remember feeling admired while having his hands all over my body. At 22, admiration could completely rearrange my emotional state. 

After the shower, we continued getting to know each other, sitting naked on the bed and he brought up STDs again. He wanted us to use condoms for everything. 

Not just for penetration — Even for oral sex.

Then came the sentence that stayed with me long after the night ended.

He explained, very calmly, that if everything involved protection and there was no kissing, a part of him didn’t really consider it cheating. He found it was almost just as masturbating. 

I remember staring at him, genuinely fascinated and nodding. 

Not because I believed him, but because he seemed to need the logic so badly and to believe it. 

He had built an entire emotional accounting system around technicalities:

No kissing

No emotional attachment.

Protection all around every time.

Only when traveling for work.

As if rules could somehow make betrayal cleaner.

Had he told me his limitations before, I would have gone straight home. 

The irony was that I had my own version of compartmentalization too. I used to tell myself that men cheating on their partners had nothing to do with me because they weren’t cheating on me. That was the loophole I gave myself. It is a shitty belief, but as a 22 year old horny young man, I was just trying to have the next encounter.  

My mom didn’t raise me a quitter.  The taste of the latex made the entire thing feel strangely medical, but by then I was already committed to the experience so I did what I had to do.  When I got tired of having the taste of latex in my mouth I got to business and sat on his dick after putting lubricant on it.   

Adam was really passionate but at times I wished he had just grabbed me and fucked the shit out of me but it felt good nevertheless.   I kept feeling upset that I couldn't kiss him so I got really close to his head next to mine to feel his face and touch his hair while also riding his dick.  

We reached our last position, he was penetrating me from behind and it felt comfortable and enjoyable.  Minutes later he finished inside me with the condom and I felt like I wanted more or like I wanted to jerk off while making out which usually helps me reach, but I couldn’t really get neither.  

The rest of the encounter faded into the soft blur most hookups eventually become: dim lighting, small talk, the temporary illusion of closeness between two strangers who would probably never meet again. 

Afterward, we laid in bed talking about New York and Los Angeles like normal people on a normal date. Then I checked my phone and realized it was already past 10 PM. I needed to get home before my mother started asking questions.

I got dressed. He walked me to the door. I kissed him on the cheek before leaving, which technically probably violated his entire moral framework but I digressed. 

A few days later, his profile disappeared. 

I still think about how desperately he needed rules around something that had already crossed every line to feel better about himself.

His Grindr profile was headless, as per usual, but the torso alone told me enough. Tall. Muscular. The kind of build that suggested lacrosse, and emotional unavailability all at once. He told me he worked in mergers and acquisitions and immediately gave me the usual speech about being discreet and not wanting anyone “from work” to recognize him.

When I sent him my face pictures, he replied:

“There’s no way that’s you.”

Apparently the idea that someone who looked like me felt unrealistic to him.

I took it as the compliment it was intended to be and told to myself “whatever”.

However,

He was exactly my type: tall, masculine, corporate, emotionally inaccessible enough to feel exciting. The kind of man capable of making you create a fake future together after three messages and a torso picture.

Then he disappeared.

After I flirted back a little too confidently, he stopped replying altogether. I spent the next few days doing what every normal person does after being ignored by a hot man: reopening his profile repeatedly and pretending I didn’t care. Wondering how I could meet this man in person.

Eventually, I moved on. Or at least I told myself I did.

A few days later, while half-working and half-scrolling Grindr again during a work from home day, I saw his profile online.

Against my better judgment, I messaged him.

To my surprise, he answered immediately.

This time he finally sent face pictures, and unfortunately for my mental stability, he looked even better than I imagined. Brunette. Green eyes. Scruffy. Masculine in an effortless way that made me irrationally emotional almost instantly.

I remember staring at my phone thinking:

“Why would God create someone this attractive only for him to end up on Grindr talking to me during work hours?”

We exchanged more pictures, including nudes and flirted for a while before he casually mentioned he had a quiet hour between meetings and could see me in my apartment around 2 PM.

He said he wanted me to sit on his face. The inner goddess in me was thrilled.

I blocked my work calendar immediately, because that is what you do when a hot finance bro tells you he wants to eat your ass.

The anticipation started eating me alive after that. Around 1:30, he messaged me saying he was leaving the office and taking a Citibike to my apartment. Maybe it was the image of him biking through Manhattan in office clothes during August heat. Maybe I was already too far gone psychologically at that point.

Probably both.

A few minutes before 2, he messaged that he was outside.

I buzzed him in and waited near the door trying to act calmer than I felt. I calculated the time it takes on average to get to my door from the lobby and I opened my door to welcome him. I see this man in a beautiful navy suit with a blue shirt, and brown loafers looking better than his photos. When he finally stepped into my apartment, I understood within seconds that I was in trouble.

He looked better than his photos.

He came in and we did the usual small talk, he complimented my apartment, and started removing his blazer near the couch.

I offered him water, because that's what you do when you want to be a good host to a man like that, but he refused.

Later, after he sat down, did I notice the Canali label inside the jacket folded beside him.

Canali. As a former model I was able to notice it easily—this guy had taste.

Everything about him felt curated but effortless, which somehow made it worse.

We sat together on the couch and started kissing almost immediately. The kiss itself surprised me most. He was a great kisser and his lips were soft.

To me there’s a specific kind of chemistry that either exists within the first few seconds or doesn’t exist at all, and this felt immediate. Easy. Dangerous.

He smelled incredible. I assumed it was an expensive clean cologne mixed with the summer heat and lingering exhaustion of a Midtown in-office workday. I remember unbuttoning his shirt and realizing his entire presence felt unfairly perfect to me.

At one point he stopped, looked directly at me, and said:

“You’re so beautiful.”

At 27, compliments from men still had the power to rearrange my entire emotional state.

The rest of the hour unfolded slowly. Kissing. Conversation. Sex. I knew it was just a hookup but the truth is, you actually never know what can come from it.

We moved to my bed where we kissed for a while longer and I gave him some mind blowing head to the point he couldn’t hold any longer.

I kissed him after he finished and to my surprise he kissed me back. By now I have already learned that a lot of guys don’t want to kiss after they are done.

I want to eat your ass – he said.

My inner goddess was dancing happily because this wasn't over and he wanted more. I sat on his face like there was no tomorrow. Smothered him with my butt and had him lick my town away. I ended up masturbating and finishing all over his chest with his tongue inside me.

At some point I glanced at the clock and realized it was almost 3 PM.

He still had an investment banking job to return to and I had a laptop to unlock and ensure my status was green on Teams.

He cleaned himself up with some paper towel I handed him, buttoned his shirt again, slipped back into the navy suit, and prepared to head back into his office like he hadn’t just spent an hour in my bed.

Before leaving, we stood near the door talking casually about the rest of our afternoons like this had all been completely normal.

Maybe for him, it was.

After he left, I sent my usual polite follow-up text:

“Thanks for coming over. That was really hot.”

He liked the message.

Then I never heard from him again.

A few days later, I saw him online a couple more times. He never initiated conversation, and eventually I stopped trying too.

Still, I think about how quickly some men can move between identities. One moment he was kissing me in my apartment with his suit folded on my couch. An hour later he was probably back in a conference room discussing acquisitions and pretending none of it had happened.

Maybe that’s what the Canali suit really was in the end:

not fashion,

but armor.