I’ve met a number of men, and women, thanks to Craig’s List.  The ones I fuck are great, but the one I don’t fuck, DD, is special.

I responded to a CL ad in the Strictly Platonic m4w section.  I love having guy friends, and was in desperate need, since most of the ones I’d had were on the Ex’s “side” when we broke up.  A couple of friends tried to be neutral but understandably felt trapped between the two of us.  Ultimately, since I was the cheater, and therefore the bad guy, I just let them go.  I was making myself feel shitty enough, I didn’t also need “friends” judging me because I cheated on the nicest guy ever.  And the Ex is a nice guy–will do anything for a friend.  A wife, not so much.

It was also during this time that I was trying to find friends I wouldn’t want to fuck.  Better yet, I could completely avoid the possibility of fucking a friend if he had already eliminated my entire gender as possible sex partners.  I responded to an ad headlined, “Fag Looking for a Hag.”

We met in Dolores Park and immediately got along.  We had both recently ended major relationships and were in recovery.  We both liked fucking guys, a lot.  He loved Isis (she always goes with me to Dolores Park, whether we’re there to meet a new person or otherwise).  We both talk, a lot, and fast.  At the time our mothers lived in the same area of California that we both found absolutely repulsive.

And it hasn’t been the same since.  We mostly hang out at my house.  He brings baguette, cheese, and wine; I make dinner.  It seems unfair, but I’m a kick-ass cook and I sometimes make multi-course meals.

Over wine and food we talk about anything and everything, which is usually sex-related.  On one of those nights the wine was flowing and we got to talking about what would be fun given our state of inebriation, our randiness factor, and the ease of making things happen in San Francisco with Craig’s List.

We placed an ad on Craig’s List under Casual Encounters mw4m.  We made it very clear that we were a gay guy and a straight (for these purposes) woman who wanted a guy to come over and dance for us.  Yes, dance.  We wanted a guy to do a little striptease for us, and indicated in the ad that things may go from there so he needed to be open to sexual relations with both of us.

Our drunken minds had thoughts of DD watching me suck cock, as a kind of lesson.  DD is skilled at the oral arts, of course, but he told me he gives head because guys like it, not because he does.  I assured him that I could show him how enjoyable sucking cock can be.

We weeded through a few applicants and finally settled on a guy who told us he was coming to the Mission from the Marina.  (More on my feelings on the Marina in “International Day, and Night.”) That alone should have caused us to reject him, but it was late and we were only getting drunker and hornier.

The guy showed up and after introductions DD and I ordered him to dance.  Maybe we’re intimidating, because the guy who had had the nerve to come over in the middle of the night was suddenly shy.  Yes, we really did want him to dance; the CL ad wasn’t lying.  We asked him to dance.  We ordered him to dance.  He would not dance.

We told him to leave.  If he wasn’t going to dance for us he was of no use; he was just taking up space in my apartment.  I walked him to the door.  THEN he suddenly got a personality.  He started up with the “baby, baby” talk when he thought we were out of DD’s earshot.  There is nowhere in my apartment that is out of earshot of anywhere in my apartment, but I suppose this guy didn’t know that.  Our guest wanted to dip into the downstairs bathroom for a quick blow job.  Uh, no.

We probably kissed a few times because I was trying to show him what he was missing by not dancing for us, but I wasn’t going to give him a “freebie” blow job; he had to earn it.  After several minutes of him begging and me making it clear that he needed to earn his keep or get the fuck out, he left.

DD and I were disappointed, of course.  We wanted some action.

Fast forward several months.  DD and I were again hanging out at my place with lots of wine flowing.  This time our CL ad asked “just” for a guy who was willing to engage in sexual relations with both of us to come over.

The guy who showed up was a cute, skinny, tattooed pastry chef.  Oh, yes.  DD and I gave each other the “I so want to fuck him hard” faces; we knew what was up.  Because I’m a food nerd I asked him about his work, in detail.  He was very sweet and shy.

It was pretty late.  DD and I had been drinking for a few hours, our pastry chef had told us he’d been up since very early in the AM on account of his job.  The three of us kind of zoned out.  I was sitting between the two men and could see that one or both of them was about to fall asleep.  Hmm.  Not too sexy.

Eventually our pastry chef took his leave; he had to work in the morning.  After he left DD and I discussed how hot he was and how much we wanted to jump his bones.  DD told me he could tell by the lump in the pastry chef’s jeans that he had a big cock.  I’m of the opinion that there are growers and there are showers and there are guys with huge balls, so the bulge in the pants is not a definitive indication.  Nonetheless, DD assured me that the pastry chef had a big cock.  We’re both size queens.

But that didn’t matter, because the pastry chef had left.  I text messaged him that we were both a bit disappointed that we didn’t have a chance to have some sexy times.  Much to my surprise, within the next week or so the pastry chef text messaged me letting me know that he was randy and wanted to come over.

DD was right–the pastry chef’s cock was big.  And fun to suck.  And suck.  He came over, he came, and then he left.  I didn’t hear from him again.  Which was fine.  I got the feeling that he was trying to figure out his orientation.  I hope I helped in some way.  Of course I told DD about everything.

Fast forward a few months.  DD tells me that the pastry chef has been text messaging him and wants to get together with him.  Fun.  I encouraged DD to go for it, because the pastry chef’s cock is nice and should be appreciated.

DD tells me one of the best things EVER:  the pastry chef wants to know of DD’s blow jobs are as good as mine.  He he.  Yay!  As far as I know DD and the pastry chef still haven’t gotten together, but I do want to know the details if they do.

I swear.  True story.

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