This guy was a real charmer. We IM’d for a few weeks, him telling me what he wanted to do to me, asking for my credentials (ifyuhgetwhaddimean)

He kept sending me photos. His profile pics were HOT DAWG already. Then he sent me one from below: arty, Man-Ray-like black and white. His 6 pack and (ahem) package were impressive. I was convinced he was a male model. He said he was a product designer.

More photos kept coming. He was messaging me ALL THE TIME. His torso again. His package. His face. I was lost in a sea of attractiveness, I could hardly believe my luck.

I had it coming really. When I met him, he was smaller than me. Smaller, camp and weasly. And a smoker. Not 6’7, or anything like it. Not as attractive as his photos. The disappointment must have been evident all over my face as he kept saying ’ you seem really nervous’.


We got down to it. Turns out he was a pretty selfish lover. Without a six pack. His photos MUST have been photoshopped. 

He left in a huff saying I was too stressed. 


ancient history

I think I was around 20/22 when I met him in a total dive bar in Enfield.
I was with a female work colleague who was double my age but knew the barman. 

As a result I was drunk. We tried fucking in the shelter on the train station. I wasn’t really digging it so we went back to his.

All I can remember is that his room had no windows so it was pretty dark. His body seemed to be covered in scars- all over his chest and back and felt like scales. He tried to fuck me but his cock was so huge we just couldn’t do it. 

In the morning his Dad opened the door to be confronted by my arse bare for all the world to see. I remember him asking for my number and me writing a false one in the margin of The Sun newspaper (him not his Dad)

Thank god I never saw him again.

I think his name was Jason?