Gay Writes

Bored

by Kelly Albrecht

My date was as boring as slush. We’d been flirting for a month: the eye contact, sexting, quick gropes, sexual tension. He was one hottie. Our problem was we had no place to hook.

Finally, I dropped a hundred bucks on a Jacuzzi Suite in Wendover. All I wanted was the room with mirrors on the walls and the big bed. When we got there, he said, “It looks nice,” and then he got on Facebook. This wasn’t what I expected, but I knelt between his legs. He could chat all he wanted. I had all I needed right there. Then he came. It was nice, but now what? I sat up and kissed him, he kissed me back, and then he kissed my neck. I heard his fingers on the keyboard.

I got in the hot tub and it felt nice, but I didn’t want to sit there alone. My date had not budged, so I dried off, dressed, and told him I was heading to the casino.

Whole new world: lights, live band, clang and clatter, and people. They all looked like my grandma, but they were more alive than my date.

Cheers erupted to my left, so I wandered over. It was a group of guys at the craps table. One of them had just won and ordered another round of drinks. They were cute, but the one in a tattered, blue zip-up hoodie and brown Guinness ball cap caught my attention.

I sat next to Grandma and started sliding cash into the machine. I watched it disappear. Then the machine lit up and started making lots of clatter. Grandma gave me a smile and a pat on the knee. I won forty-two bucks. A dollar more than I started with, I thought. So I called it quits and wandered off.

Next, I walked over to the band. “I’m all out of love. I’m so lost without you,” sang the woman with too much make-up on. I realized I had to take a piss, so I headed to the restroom. I was almost finished when I noticed movement three urinals down. It was the blue-hoodie guy from the craps table. I tried to take a peek, but I couldn’t see anything. Damn!

Outside the restrooms, I lit up a smoke. Moments later Blue Hoodie came out and I wanted to give him the “please do me” look, but I looked at the floor.

“Can I bum a smoke?” he asked.

I lit him up.

“I’m so pissed!” he said to my shoes and blew smoke.

“Why?” I asked him. “Looked like you were winning.”

He laughed. “Yeah I did win some cash tonight, but I’m mad because I’m drunk, horny, and all my buddies are gonna get some tonight except me because my bitch stayed home.”

I told him that my lady passed out on me. He told me, “That sucks,” and we felt sorry for each other.

I suggested we go to his room and watch porn. His baby-blues lit up, and he said that he liked the idea. So I followed him down the hallway.

In the elevator, I told him flat out, “I will suck you off man.” Then I prepared myself for a fist. Instead he started to mumble. I only saw his lips move, but he must have agreed because in the room he unbuttoned his fly and pushed me to my knees.

Guys always say they’re horny when they’re drunk, but they can’t do anything once they’ve had too much. He’d had about six too many past that point. But this was my favorite pastime, and I soon had him right where we both wanted him to be. But then I stood up. “Dude, you got to do me a favor,” I said with a desperate look. “Do you have a condom you can slip on?”

He put one on, flipped his ball cap backward, and unzipped his tattered blue hoodie. He looked as hot as hell. I finally got what I wanted.

Back at the room, I found my date still chatting, and shirtless, and oh so cute. He smiled and I wondered what went wrong with us. I supposed I could talk to him, but did I really need to tell someone it’s not polite to chat online on your first date? I said nothing and knelt between his legs and he gave me more. At least he gave me that.

The next morning, I awoke with his arm around me. I kissed him on the top of his head, took him to breakfast, adored his smile, and drove him home—in silence.

“Message me!” he said and walked away.

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