I hook up with a nineteen year old at my big age. Driving over, I tell myself: act doting, let him initiate everything, he’s topping anyways, he has the power, you could pass for being two years younger, refrain from saying anything smart lest it come off didactic, you’re not a predator, you’re twenty-eight and it’s not that big of a deal, you were hooking up with guys in their fifties at eighteen, you’re hip, you’re addicted to the internet, you have your finger on the pulse of the culture, he hit you up first.
Considering it’s 2am and I’ve just pulled into a suburb, I’m assuming it will happen in the basement of his parents’ house. I park my car down one block to account for this. He stands menacingly in the dark of a tree, waving me to the side of the house. I follow him through the backyard gate, through the sliding door. An outside light pierces the glass, the basement ephemera casting long shadows around a solitary couch. I have foreseen all of this because I used to offer the same. Sorry it’s a mess, it flooded.
Being here with him I am less put off than anticipated. He’s hot and a bit taller than me and I can suspend my reservations about his age because I want the confidence boost or I feel younger than I am or I’m overreacting or I think it’s funny in a way that he wants to “use my hole” as I’m dangerously close to the gay death age of thirty or everything’s fine and normal and we’re two consenting adults and I’m not even particularly submissive but I must act as prey lest I come off the opposite or my dick is just hard.
He uses his phone camera as a mirror and fixes his hair while I look around for remnants of the flood. It looks no different than the average messy, dark basement. When I turn back, he’s sitting on the couch, pants down. Do you wanna suck it? He softly clutches me between him with his thighs and I feel relieved by his nonchalance and hard dick. We swap head, we’re both into it, I am forgetting more and more about his parents and his high school graduation and his whole life ahead of him.
You ready to get fucked? Before he grabs the lube he grabs his phone. He uses the flashlight to inspect my ass which is bent over on the couch. I think about opening my mouth and seeing if it would project onto the wall. Things are lubed up, the insertion pending. It’s like every other dick— initially painful, then mostly fine. After a minute: Can I take a video? I’m initially flattered, then mostly curious. Yeah. One hand retracts from my hip, the flash is back on behind me. He pushes himself, holds it there. He starts to feel like a permanent fixture, like a tail sprouting from my ass.
We switch positions so he can hold my legs up and lean into me and I can bite his neck. He pulls his upper body away and takes another video from the new position. The light is flashing back into his face more than anything and I’m seeing him clearly for the first time. He’s definitely hot, but the way he looks at my body parts through the lens of his phone keeps him disconnected from me. Suddenly, the flood light from outside turns off.
Shit. He stops pumping completely, swipes on his phone, turns the flashlight back on, and places it on the couch next to my head. The phone has circled around my body so much I start to consider it in the space. He continues, placing his hand next to my head and accidentally flipping the phone over. I instinctively grab it and set it right so I can see him. He’s delivering on what he promised, he’s sweating and becoming verbal, I’m taking it and responding with “yes sirs'', I’m wrestling him closer to me with my legs, the phone is slightly knocking against my head, my mind starts to randomly wander, I’m thinking about the couch breaking, wondering if the wooden frame was weakened by the flood water, wondering if there was any significant damage done to anything important, wondering what’s taking him so long, wondering why he wanted those videos, wondering if he likes my bites, wondering if he’s in college, wondering what the hell I’m doing here.
Without a word, he pulls out and leans back. I don’t think he’s cum but maybe he has. He reaches past me to grab his phone but I stupidly think he’s going for the back of my head. I try to lean into his hand but he’s not even looking at me. He leans back on the couch and strokes himself while swiping on his phone. He has started watching Twitter porn.
In an attempt to bring any sexiness back into the moment and block any more potential humiliation, I say nothing and slink to the floor. I swim around his legs, kissing his thighs, resting my head on them and looking up at him with the biggest eyes I can manage. He occasionally breaks contact from his phone to look over it and smile and cup my face while I continue to lurk under the couch’s surface and touch him everywhere but his cock.
After a few minutes, the embarrassment starts to poison my mind: fucking Ipad baby, porn-desensitized Gen-Z dick, OnlyFans cellphone sex toy, rotted cum-brain--Ok, sit on it. I obey because I’m a good boy. I get up and flip my leg over him, dig a claw into his shoulder and try to line up the target. As I begin my descent, he looks up at me and moans. I just came, sorry. I grab his dick from behind my back. So you did. I take the flop-over of shame and sink into the couch. I close my eyes and float for a minute. I’m incredibly flaccid.
When I open my eyes, I see him staring at his phone. He frowns and flips the screen towards me. A word game illuminates my face. Can you figure this out? It’s like the only word I can make is alligator with no vowels. He types from the word bank and shows me the false word “ALGTR”. A is a vowel. I get up and put my clothes on. I inquire about exiting the way I came in. He confirms from the couch. I walk past to open the door and see over his shoulder that he is uploading the videos to his Snapchat story. I think about how I’ll do the same by writing about the experience. He turns around suddenly and looks at me. Are you leaving already? I don’t look back at him. Yeah, see you later.
