The other week, I sucked off a taxi driver. I’m still figuring out why. Yes, I was horny. I was heavily inebriated, the jury will be pleased to hear. But I had no attraction to this man. Zero. Yet I responded to this proposition with a perverse glee – asking ‘you serious?’ on repeat until I was curious enough to vault over to the front seat.
The regret came a minute later when he did. It’s not a brag, his wife doesn’t give him blowjobs anymore apparently, so a change in the breeze would probably set his dick asunder. I keep thinking about the idea that, as a gay man, I provided a public service. A blow to keep a marriage afloat under the cover of darkness. Like Batman, if he was a marriage counselor for the sexually frustrated.
Another part of myself is wondering if he’s asked anyone else. If so, how many? I don’t have an exact recollection of events, but my sexuality was raised and his offer pitched within a five-minute window after dropping off a friend. A clockwork operation or a spontaneous request? Either way, something about it feels off.
YOLO aside, I think I was willing because I’m catching up on lost time. I’m more comfortable with myself now than ever, and I’ve heard stories from friends about similar encounters which I’ve been quietly envious of. I’m not impervious to the basic fantasy of getting with a straight (?) guy either which, I’ve discovered anecdotally, actually happens quite often.
So here’s a post about a blowjob. If you’re aware of my existence in real life, please continue to pretend this didn’t happen. If we’re not acquainted and your sex life isn’t hitting the spot, or you simply drive a double decker bus, please inquire within. This curiosity isn’t going to satiate itself.
StarkTreatment 