Saturday, 27 February 2016

Close call...?

Have been chatting off and on with a guy for a week or two - he's late 20's, 6', nicely built, but like me, has no place to host.  But he's in regular contact, and keen to 'make something happen'.

He hits me up one night and tells me his regular fuck-bud is keen to meet up and try a threesome, so how about it.  Why not.  Endless messages are exchanged, pictures swapped and arrangements made.

I collect the guy at the appointed place, and he's even more handsome than his pics - atop the body sits a very cute face - crinkly/sparkly eyed and fully bearded, he's half Lebanese/half Turkish, which, for me, is heaven.  He's going to be an amazing bear when he grows up, and he's also hung...

However, once in the car he tells me our intended companion has canceled, but he has 'someone' else.  This turns out to be a very young guy, and a national.  Now, apart from the Engineer, I've never had a good experience with nationals, let alone young ones.  Almost to a fault they're flakes, with some excuse or another or simply no-shows, so I'm cautious, and begin to quiz my new friend.  He confesses he doesn't know the guy at all, and that he's arranged it in the last 10 minutes .  My warning lights are flashing, and I begin to back away from the arrangement, telling him I'm not into randoms, I dislike nationals and any other excuse I can think of, and he's a bit crestfallen.

We agree to continue on, and 'see what happens'.  As it turns out, we're to meet in one of the most congested and dilapidated parts of town, which doesn't please me at all, and of course once we get there the guy is nowhere to be seen, which is just fucking annoying.  Some phone calls are exchanged, and I can see a group of guys not too far away, each of whom have that hustler/street rat look about them, and I call time.  It's not feeling right, so I tell my friend I'm done, so let's just go and have coffee.

He's hesitant, but then suddenly says 'get moving - now', so I ease the car back into the traffic and we draw away, but of course I have to do a lap of the block just to get out of the maze we are in, and on our return pass, I see the street rats are in conversation with the police, a squad car now parked not 10 feet from where we had been moments earlier.  My friend tells me he'd seen the car approach, hence his exhortations to get moving.  Remember, it's totally illegal to be gay here, and the newspapers often run storys with headlines such as "homos rounded up in café" or "gays arrested for violating the moral code".  Was it attempted entrapment?  A coincidence?  Who knows...

We end up in a café not too far away, where we enjoy a perfectly nice conversation and pass an hour or so in a way neither of us were expecting.  I learn he's a well known alternative DJ, and as well as being handsome, he's smart as hell, and I hope to see him again under more carnal circumstances...



2 comments:

  1. Yikes! Glad y'all were good. And I think I'd take some risks to meet him too. He's a hot one. Just wonder what his story is on not being able to host...

    ReplyDelete
  2. The turk/leb? Simple - regional custom is to live with one's parents until marriage, unless you have relocated for work. Even then, that's kinda restricted to the 'elite', as there are strict eligibility requirements to get a working visa...

    ReplyDelete