I hated him immediately. And that before the whole herpes thing...

He managed to go from zero to asshat in under 3 seconds. Making me hate him so quickly was actually quite an accomplishment since he was willing to help me carry a hot water heater (150 lbs) up my stairs. He had boasted about being able to bench press 500 lbs, so I seized the opportunity to avoid hiring someone.


From the moment I opened my jeep to reveal the water heater, he tried to tell me we shouldn't move it because he didn't think I would be strong enough. What an asshat.


I was indeed strong enough, but he proceeded to be patronizing for the whole journey from jeep to front door.

"Be careful, Sweetie," and "you sure you've got it, Sweetie?" in his most condescending used-car-salesman voice.

I decided to wait to yell at him until we got the water heater inside.

Once we got inside and I yelled at him for being patronizing, he seemed shocked. I find it very hard to believe that this is the first time he had been told that people dislike being talked down to. What an asshat.

He muttered some douchebag form of apology and I offered him vodka out of the chicken teapot. He drank it, but complained that it wasn't Grey Goose (it was Ketel One). 

I also found it peculiar that he chose to focus on the brand of premium vodka, rather than the chicken it came out of. Or the porcelain teacup he was drinking it out of. Or the organic green juice mixer.

Anyway... I also found it odd that he kept trying to take my clothes off as I poured the drinks. I asked if he wanted to skip drinks, and he said no. 

But he had pulled by pants down to my knees such that I was just standing in the middle of the kitchen holding the chicken teapot with just my bare ass out. My poor roommate. She deals with so much.

I told him that I would have to pull my pants up to walk to the bedroom, but that I would certainly take them off when appropriate.

Once we got to my bedroom, he pulled down his pants to expose his huge dick, which was already hard.

"Perfect!" I thought!


So I took my pants off and threw him down on my bed. I went to grab his dick for my compulsory visual inspection and quickly recoiled. I stared at the flat white blisters for a second trying to process what I was seeing. Of all the hookups I have ever had, I have never actually found anything in my inspection before (aside from an occasional ingrown hair or sloppy circumcision). My millions of STD google image searches flooded my mind. I'm sure I would have flashed back to health class if I had had it (I got the Catholic school version: "family life").


"OMG he has herpes!" I thought.


Actually, it was probably the strain of HPV`that causes genital warts. There were two clusters of flat white blisters about half way down the shaft. It was like the exact picture out of your (not my) health class textbook (my textbook just had smiling white families).


Then began the most uncomfortable conversation of my life to date:

"Is there a problem?" he asked impatiently.

I though about my word choice carefully, as my first mental draft ("My problem is your disease outbreak") wasn't great.

"Yeah... I'm uncomfortable with these bumps here," I said slowly as I pointed to the largest of them.

He grabbed his dick and looked at it carefully, twisting it to look at the sides of the shaft. He really examined it closely, pretending not to see the blisters on it.

"Oh Sweetie, that's what foreskin looks like," he replied... like an asshat.


I couldn't decide if I would rather punch him in his insolent face or rashy dick. I resisted. Did he think I had never seen (hundreds of) uncut dicks before? If that's what he is banking on, he should really go after much younger girls... like under 20.


"Why are you making this awkward?" he asked.

For the record, trying to hook up with someone while you have an outbreak is awkward.

"I am not comfortable with this," I stated.

"Are you trying to say I have some sort of disease or something?"

Actually, his doctor should be the one to say that, but anyway... 

"Do you want to see my test results??" he demanded.

"Yes please," I replied, knowing he wouldn't have them. BTW there is no CDC-approved test for HPV in males (there is an anal swab test however). Diagnosis is more like a doctor looking at your dick warts and recommending treatment.


"Well, I don't have the results with me right now! But I've had those bumps since I was born. They are nothing!"


I tensed up a bit as I wondered whether or not this would go badly. And by that, I mean whether he would try to force himself on me and I would have to shank him. I decided probably not. I relaxed a little. 

"Well if you aren't comfortable, then we don't have to do anything."

Of course we weren't going to do anything! You have a fucking wart outbreak! But I was glad that he came to that on his own (and that I didn't have to stab him).

"Great!" I exclaimed, jumped out of the bed, and started putting my clothes back on without making eye contact.


"So we really aren't going to do this??" he demanded.

"No. I am not comfortable." I replied with conviction and lessening patience.

After finally standing up, he tried to convince me to fuck him a few more times in various (idiotic) ways, but I wasn't having it. He tried to hug me in a way that his dick would touch me, and I awkwardly dodged it.

I walked him out, locked the deadbolt, and gave my hands several thorough washings.



Upon further contemplation, it's kind of amazing (statistically speaking) that I haven't encountered visible STI's before now. But still, who shows up with that shit going on??


So remember kids, 1 in 6 Americans has genital herpes. Always do a hooker-style dick check and always make him wear a condom (that fits him properly).. because straight men will try to fuck everyone (I would know) unprotected and then be mad and indignant when they get bumps on their dicks and unwanted children (straight men are stupid). This hookup had both these things.

What an asshat.
I put it to the vote, and you all (narrowly) chose number 1. And what a great choice that was! It went so well that I'm afraid the story won't be very entertaining. But I will try! Here goes:

He was insanely ripped! He was a 23-year-old security guard and amateur power lifter who used to be in the Army. I may have made some of that up. I'm not sure. It sounded right.

Anyway, I do know for sure that he had a nice dick! The pics he sent were good and a very accurate representation. It was about 7 1/4 inches long with proportional girth and a large head. He was uncut, but he had so little foreskin that, in the dark, I would have believed that he circumcised. Not that I am ever in the dark with them... Feel free to text or email for the dick pic I took.

He was much less effeminate than his tinder pics suggested. That said, he did have three little Chinese characters tattooed on his stomach... which wasn't the straightest thing I've ever seen. I wasn't interested enough to ask what they meant, and I was sure the answer would have been some buzz words off a placemat at a vegan restaurant (e.g. harmony, tranquility, balance, prosperity, health, love).  

But he had a great body, a good dick, he was young, and seemed slutty. #winning

As for the actual dicking part, it was pretty good. He required some direction, and I wasn't shy about giving it. Some examples of my constructive feedback include, "faster," "slower," "don't do that," and "never do that again." And of course, "No!" with a Cesar Millan-style hiss.

He wanted to keep his necklace on during sex. I found it odd, but tolerated it because it was a short chain that probably would hit me in the face. 

Everything would have been normal except that he had a very strange way of touching my body. It was like he was trying to pull on my skin... sort of like a masseuse who ran out of massage oil, but kept rubbing me down anyway. First it happened on my tits. I told him to be more gentle. Then he did it on my sides. I didn't even know how to tell him what he was doing wrong with regard to my skin. 

There were a couple of positions where I found myself just staring at his abs. I don't think it is anatomically possible, but I swear he had 10-pack!

In the midst of fucking on his knees with me sort of sideways (I have no idea what you call that position), he put his necklace in his mouth and kept it there for several minutes. He seemed to be sucking on it a little. I don't make a habit of looking at their faces, but I did find this a bit distracting.

Critiques (and weird skin thing) aside, he handled himself well.  Like a man should, he came only when I gave him permission. He asked for a round 2, but I had to get up early and my skin couldn't take it anyway. 

He expressed interest in coming over for sex again, and I told him we could probably work that out. I would actually love to work him into the regular rotation as long as he doesn't try to talk to me too much. 

So the next day he tried to talk to me too much. He asked me about my day and shared the mundane details about his. I hate that. No one cares about your daily bullshit. I told him so (in a nice way), and he seemed to understand. Actually, it wasn't so much in a nice way as it was giving one word responses hours later. If he hadn't gotten the hint, I would have to have that "don't talk to me except to schedule sex" conversation I keep needing to have with men. How is it that all straight men seem to want relationships of some sort??

I have high hopes that he can stop communicating with me and we can fuck in the future.
Disclaimer: This entry makes me feel like an asshole (probably because I am one)... but I wrote it anyway. You're welcome. I should add that straight men have been shaming women about their bodies for thousands of years.. and most still do it everyday. So fuck them. Enjoy!

As usual, I should have known better than to choose this one. His tinder bio (which I didn't actually read before swiping right) was very clear that he was looking for a relationship. When I finally read it (to try to find out why he was asking so many questions about my life), I told him I was only looking for sex. He said he would be alright with just a hookup, and we agreed to meetup for sex. 

I really, really should have known better. From my extensive experience, I have learned that the "relationship type" of straight man has something horribly wrong with him (e.g. small dick, dick that doesn't work right, one testicle, severe emotional problems, adult acne, general ugliness, etc).

Even though he was looking for a relationship, I decided it would be fine because his dick pic was great (ask me for it if you want to see it), and his pictures were all very muscular. In fact, he looked scary-built.. like Flo-Rida (I would pay a lot of money to have sex with Flor-Rida; although I doubt he would be open to prostitution until he runs out of money).

So I chose to ignore my (justified) opinions about guys who are the "relationship type" and set up the hookup anyway. 

So the entire evening was characterized by me being disappointed and resentful, but still trying not to make him feel woefully inadequate (which is not unlike the dynamic of my past relationships).

From the beginning... he arrived (an hour late). I was hoping for Flo-Rida, but I got Rick Ross (circa 2008). JK he was more like an amalgamation of the two: built upper body, but fat. 

As you all know, I appreciate a good 8-pack (because it is both fashionable and functional), and I get them (with the exception of my thirstiest nights). I definitely need to be the thick one in the arrangement... so let the hypocrisy begin:

I stood in the doorway deciding whether or not to abort the booty call. He was wearing a large shirt, and I found myself trying to decide whether he had pecs or man-boobs. I took an inappropriately long time to weigh the pros and cons. This is what I came up with:

PROS:
1. He was there and willing
2. He had great shoulders
3. He was 6'3"
4. It was probably too late to call anyone else
5. His dick pic was good

CONS:
1. Fat
2. I was very sober
3. Fat

Fuck it... I decided to do it, knowing I could always kick him out later. 

I offered him tequila out of the chicken teapot. He declined (probably because it was in a chicken teapot), but I was really only offering so that I could drink without hurting his feelings.

I took him into the bedroom and turned out the lights. I tried to do so smoothly as though I always turned out the lights (I never turn out the lights). There was still enough light coming from my window so that I could make sure he didn't have a herpes outbreak and put the condom on correctly. 

He took his big shirt off and left his undershirt on. I generally don't allow them to keep any clothes on, but I was thankful he did in this scenario. It turned out that he had pecs and moobs... like with the moob sort of on top of the pec. It all rounded out to a full B-cup. 

Where is a glory hole when you need one? He would have been perfect if I had only had a wall between me and everything but his dick. 

I told him my favorite position was that one where he stands and I lie on the edge of the bed (like it's a gyno table) and have no contact with anything besides his dick.  He tried to pick up my legs to put over his shoulders and I just yelled, "No!" in my usual demeaning tone. I turned my head away to stare at the wall and think about Flo-Rida (which seemed marginally appropriate).

I can't believe the scenario worked for me! He actually wasn't bad with his dick. Somehow I managed to get off in my weird minimal-contact position that kind of hurt my back. It was a Christmas miracle!

I walked him out quickly after that, citing the fact that it was late because he was an hour late arriving. 

Overall, I made it work, despite being moderately appalled by his bmi. And I am really considering cutting a glory hole into one of my walls (I like to keep things classy in my house) just in case this happens again.
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