Monday, 9 December 2013

The Falcon

I’m idly cruising the ‘location based buddy finder’, when I get a hit from a character calling himself “The Falcon”.  Nice profile and of a nationality I find intriguing.  Like the Harus before him, from the northern bit of the sandlands.  We talk for a bit, then exchange pics.  Dim light and sunglasses on, but promising.  We switch to another app and chat for a bit, then family duty calls and I leave him.

The next morning, I get the cheery hello text, and we continue talking off and on over the course of the day.  Suddenly he asks what I’m doing “right now”, and I confess that things are rather quiet.  He informs me of his location (but a block from my office) and would I like to meet?  So I wander down and wow.  The guy is mid-thirties, taller and fitter (much fitter!), than his pic suggests, and gobsmackingly handsome.  He is also smart and articulate, and with a slightly crooked eyebrow that makes for a killer smile - I feel like a schoolkid in his presence.  He ends up smoking a shisha, and we spend the next two hours just talking as he languorously pulls on the pipe, discussing the difficulties of hooking up in this part of the world and of integrating sexual appetites with societal expectations.  He also tells me he has two wives (legal here), which he does to distract people from his real inclinations.  As we part company he informs me he has a 22cm cock that he wants to share with me, along with promises to “keep in touch”, but I don’t really think anything of it.  That this extraordinary man would be interested in me doesn’t make sense.

The following morning, to my secretary’s bemusement, a large bunch of flowers is delivered to my office, signed only with his initial.  Then the charm offensive really begins, with endless messages and requests to meet again, none of which I can manage.  Finally we are talking late at night, when he tells me he’s found a place we can go, so we arrange to meet the following evening.

The text onslaught continues, with endless compliments about my looks and intellect over the course of the next day.  Then the killer – “what do I think of 3somes”.  I’ve only done this once before (in a HK bathhouse), so am hesitant - I’m more frequently a bottom these days (don’t know why), but not interested in being anyone's bitch, let alone for a third party I don’t know.

Perhaps naively, I begin to question Falcon as to what the other guy is expecting, and whether pounding my ass is the price of using his bed.  Complete outrage follows – “is that what you think I am like”, followed by “how dare you make that assumption about my character” and then, “I don’t want to share you with anybody, so I will just tell him to leave us alone in the room”.  Having told me the guy would join in, he now believes he can pass by the home of a casual acquaintance with a complete stranger, blithely inform the guy we’re there for a quick fuck and (presumably) leave a set of dirty sheets in our wake.  I am utterly confused, and question the reality of this, and am told in return “go away and forget we ever met”.  Boy, can I pick them!!!!

At least my wife liked the flowers…..

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