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2009/09/11

TMI: I Don’t Want Your Number (Because You Are Just A Number)

I was hanging out at the prairie this week. Summer is on the wane and I wanted to take advantage of whatever warm weather remains. It was a beautiful day, though I was not having a lot of luck snagging dick. It seemed every time someone interesting would wander into my radar field I would also run into someone I knew. I would have to get all chatty with this person (as I had probably tricked with them which is usually why I know them), and the potential new trick would become discouraged and wander off in search of someone not so preoccupied.

So why not fuck around with the chatty people? Well, there are a couple of them I would and do. But for the most part – I never do anyone twice. I like keeping things casual. Those that I do play with on a repeat basis? They understand the rules. Sex is a casual thing. I may fool around with you today, and have no interest tomorrow. It works both ways, too. Some days they are more interested in new meat than they are in me. Unfortunately, I just lack the social skill needed to let them know when I am more interested in new meat than I am in chatting with them. Thus my dilemma. Thus the trick gets away.

However, one thing is completely understood between myself and my repeat tricks; I never give out my phone number.

This is a huge issue for some people. I, myself, do not understand the problem. In my mind, they are a casual potential or former sex partner – so where do they get off asking for my phone number; a piece of information I consider very private?

I make all sorts of excuses for why I don’t want to give out my cell phone number. They are all based on fact.

1/ I have a phone phobia.
2/ I never answer my phone.
3/ I rarely turn my phone on.
4/ I am a very private person.

But underlying all of that is one, single, undeniable fact: I don’t want to be bothered. By anyone.

In my world, phones are for emergencies only. And ordering things – like services (tow trucks, pizza, etc.). I have used my cell phone about 10 times in the last 3 years. Four of those times were to call AAA to unlock my car doors so I could retrieve my keys. Other than that? I don’t see the need for it.

I realize that if I gave out my number, I would then get more phone calls. But I don’t want them. Again - I don’t want to be bothered. This is especially true of someone who will be in my life for a less than an hour.

Casual sex is supposed to be casual. No strings attached means: I don’t want your name or your phone number. I just want your dick.

I don’t care where you work or what you do. I care about where you live, but only because I need to drive there so you can fuck me. Remember TMI, as in ‘Too Much Information’? Well there is a lot of that out there. And people should really know better. Have you ever been stalked? Once you have, you will think twice about offering up information to some trick you met in the dugout of your community ballpark at midnight on a hot and sweaty Saturday night.

And I don’t care how good the sex was, how much we enjoyed kissing, or how much of a connection we experienced… I still won’t be giving you my cell phone.

So what is proper etiquette when one is offered the phone number of someone you have no intention of ever calling? I always feel bad when this happens. I should feel flattered, but instead, I just feel perplexed and guilty. Perplexed, because I can’t muster up the courage it takes to say “No, thanks.” Guilty, because I know I have no intention of calling this man and therefore, shouldn’t get his hopes up that I might.

So, back to my day on the prairie. As I mentioned I wasn’t having any luck. I’d been there for four hours and zilch, mostly due to bad timing on my part (not able to extradite myself from conversations with past acquaintances). And then, this dude who I do play with on a regular basis shows up. I’m thinking this is good, as he is usually a sure thing. But hold the phone – he masturbated before he came and is really there only for the sun and conversation. That’s cool with me. So we chat. As we chat, this very tall, very young Viking type strides past. I had spotted him earlier in the day. He was hanging out with a group of three other people his age. They said hello to me as I walked by. Continuing on my way, I commented on what a beautiful day it was. I was almost out of earshot when I heard one of them say something to the effect that the day was not the only beautiful thing around here. I pretended not to hear that – it’s kind of a corny thing to say, and just continued on my way. In hindsight, I think it was the Viking guy that said it.

Why am I calling him the Viking guy? Because he is very tall. And sturdy and beefy. He has reddish blonde hair and a bit of a permanent scowl. He also had a little beard on his chin. In other words, he looks like a Viking.

Now since my chances with my usual fuck bud are nil, I decided to go pursue the Viking. My friend continues on with a monologue I’m not hearing as I drift off into the woods, in search of a little Valhalla. My approach is an anxious one – he is young and what if he’s a total bottom or only wants to suck me off? What if I’ve misread him and he isn’t interested in me at all? But I needn’t have worried. As I approach he has his back to me. Then he turns around and I catch glimpse of the most perfect hard-on trapped in a pair of khaki shorts that I have seen in a while. We do a little dance where we eye one another and feel each other out. Then I move in close enough to grab me a handful. He unzips and hauls out a nice thick pink one. It has that translucent skin that only the dicks of true red heads have. It is also heavily veined, which always makes for an interesting suck. I’m on my knees in a flash. Recently, I have rediscovered my love of sucking dick, as in – I don’t need a hit of poppers to enjoy it. My technique is greatly improved since abstaining from poppers and those I suck seem most appreciative of my efforts. At first, his dick is sticking out of his open fly, but soon, the khaki shorts are loosened and falling off his lightly furry ass. I cup his ass cheeks and go to town, deepthroating him for all I’m worth. On occasion I steal a look heavenward to watch the pleasure spread across the face of this formerly rather stern Viking. After a few more minutes, having altered my technique several times, my mouth is making a great sucking noise which is then joined by the joyful noise made by a Viking who is about to lose his load. With a great crescendo, our orgasmic choir hits all the high notes, and I end up with a nice throat full of cum.

The Viking fixes himself up quickly and after a few terse smiles and a couple of obligatory thank you’s, he sails away.

I return to my spot next to my fuck bud, only to discover that he has fallen asleep. Bored, I cast my sights about to see if there is anything new on the whore-rizon.

I didn’t need to wait long. An older, thin, formerly in great shape, man walks by. He stops a few yards away from me, under a group of trees that offer heavy shade. I can see him quite clearly, but wouldn’t necessarily know he was there unless I was looking for him. He drops his shorts and begins to put on a cock ring. Needless to say, my interest is peaked. I saunter over.

As I approach, he is now half hard. His body is okay, but he is older than I usually like. He is in decent shape and I figure, I’ve done worse, so what the hell. Without a word between us, I take his dick in my mouth. It is average in size, but it is hard. He comments on the job I am doing, really appreciating my technique. He keeps promising to cum. He wants to cum in my mouth. Fine with me. Then he starts playing with my ass. Well, considering that I came here with only one thing on my mind – to get fucked – I figure if this is the best the universe has to offer at this time, that I'll take it. I turn around, take a nice hit of poppers and offer up my pre-lubed hole. He grabs it and starts delivering a nice fuck. He’s not wearing a condom, but I am in an ambivalent mood about the whole safe sex thing and let him pound away. He throws an okay fuck – nothing earth shattering, but fine all the same. After a point I realize he’s not gonna cum and that I am bored. I’m not really that into him and, mid-fuck, am beginning to regret having his dick up my ass. At that moment I notice someone approaching and pull off of him. Pointing out the approaching stranger, I gather up my shorts and head back toward my towel.

He follows me. He then wants to give me his phone number. Do I have anything he can write on? I look in my bag of supplies and come up with a receipt for bottled water. He has a pen, and scribbles out his name and number and hands it to me promising to fuck the cum out of me at his place. I wordlessly accept the phone number and my sorta-fuck walks away.

By this time my fuck bud is awake. He makes a comment about how everyone could see me getting fucked. I’m a bit embarrassed; not for being such an obvious whore, but because of whom I was getting fucked by. I then ask my fuck bud what the etiquette is when receiving a phone number from someone you have no intention of calling. My fuck bud decides, suddenly, that he is a lawyer and begins to breakdown the pros and cons of various arguments and possible outcomes.

Finally, we mutually decide that if the phone number was not requested and the receiver makes no promises to call, then the receiver is not guilty of anything that will result in bad karma, because there is no spoken intent upon the receiver. This makes sense to me, but I begin to think of all the people who have given me their number and elicited promises from me that I would call. I never called. Which is my burden, I guess. I should just be frank with them, brutal even, and tell them 'no'. But that in evidently leads to the question I cannot bring myself to answer – which is “Why not?” Why not? Because I am not attracted to you. Because I do not want to come to your house. Because you are a casual fuck, not a potential partner or date. Because I don’t like making phone calls to guys who I shared an orgasm with. Because this is a no-strings transaction.

Because… I don’t want to.

Does that make me mean? Perhaps.

But, given the circumstances, why on earth would they want to give me their phone number?

Common sense says… no.

So, this entry is for Dennis. Dennis? I won’t be calling you. Why?

Because I don’t want to.

2 comments:

FETE VIDAL said...

regards from SPAIN!!!!!!!!

Upton King said...

Thank you! And thank you for reading. I am honored.