Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
The first time i hooked up with somebody from Tinder it was an exploratory and investigative experience..,a little challenging as well to meet a stranger for possible intimate intercourse but after 5 shots of frozen Polish vodka and numerous spliffs…. The dude was located in a suburb of decency, i consulted with my housemate and he confirmed there would be no rape dungeons in that part of the world, “great” I said as I wrote his name down and the street he had given me to leave with Paulo. “Ok this is his mobile number and address, I’ll send you a text when I get there so you know its cool”, “Ok, and if it’s not I’ll have to call Maya and we’ll come and rescue you”. Oh how very chivalrous, I thought, and people thought chivalry was dead. So I toodle off, find the street and call the Captain Swinging Jib, I can’t even remember his name at this point (it’s been a month after the fact) but he told me it was the house with all the gravel out front..it was actually the house opposite the house with the gravel out the front…I found it and found him standing outside. “Hey” I casually tossed out, there were smiles from either side and he opened the back door for me, the garden was chaotically horticultural. His house was the only one in the flash street that had horticultural chaos as a theme, the rest were all perfectly manicured with shiny regularly polished vehicles of international extraction astride clean clean concrete. He didn’t have a hunch back but he exuded the vibe of a man with a hunched back, under his cockney cap there was a smile but all i could think of was Riff Raff from Rocky Horror but it wasn’t a bad vibe, there was not a feeling in my gut that I shouId make some polite conversation, have a smoke and a drink and then get the fuck outta dodge. If I could get an orgasm not administered by my own hand then it would be mission accomplished (and not in the George W. Bush sense of the phrase).
“I can’t find it” he said, “I thought I had the extra shot glass but I must have put it in storage with everything else so we will just have to share”, hmm, well a that’s a quick way to develop and display some level of intimacy from the get go. I entered the sparsely furnished space, “Yeah, the house needs re-stumping so I had everything put into storage that i didn’t need”. “Hang on” I said, “what is that oxygen doing at the end of the couch?”..my head wrenched back to our initial conversation the night before and the snorting strange laugh he had, I saw the oxygen and imagined he was like the Dennis Hopper character out of Blue Velvet, there was after all a mask attached to a tube attached to the canister..”nah, it’s helium left over from a friends kids birthday party and i was blowing up balloons”. I had sent the text to Paulo confirming my vibes were ok, for a second the David Lynch ambience was a tad unsettling but the Polish Wodka lessened it’s chill. Descending into one of those cheap 70s vinyl couch (mustardy colour, anyone in a share house over the last few decades knows what I’m talking about) covered in a white flannel sheet (real classy) we got to chatting, chugging and smoking. We got down to business after sufficiently lubricated.
Where are my shoes..they had been pushed under the cheap vinyl couch while he had fucked me forcefully from behind, just how forceful would be revealed in 2 days when the black black hand prints bruised into my chest had appeared.
We had moved to the bedroom..well the empty room with nothing but a mattress on the floor and a cabinet to keep the sex toys snug. The whole transaction was quick, I think. I was so exhausted after bagging my needs that really couldn’t be arsed returning the favour, in truth i just wanted to drift off into satisfied slumber..which is, well i was gonna say rude but the thought uppermost in my mind was what the fuck could happen if I ain’t completely compos mentis. The next minute we were back on the cheap vinyl couch. We talked some more and I realised this guy had taken way too much ecstasy in the 90s while banging and raving high in Nepal, shagging senseless in Shanghai. I had gathered 5 orgasms on the end of his cock which resembled a stick of cabana.
We talked about politics and music, if somebody can chat with knowledge about the music of my mind and the politics of the globe then i can probably fuck them, even if they do give you a bit of a Riff Raff from Rocky Horror vibe. It is just kinda like a servicing, pure and simple. Only required at 10,000 km intervals. And that’s fine & dandy.
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