(Previously: Going for a promising Grindr hookup, I panicked when the bus doors wouldn’t open.)
***
The driver was making some signs I couldn’t read because the face mask and the cold were fogging my eyeglasses.
But my eyeglasses caught the Emergency button by the door of the bus.
I pressed it.
It opened the bus doors; I got in.
And the driver was super mad at me because he can’t close the bus door now, and it was making you know… emergency alert sounds.
“Why did you do that? Did you read it was For Emergency Only? So, now, how do we turn it off?” (Repeat this ranting four times!)
And all I could say was, “I’m so sorry. This is my first time to ride an English bus! I’m really sorry.”
***
In the end, the stupid driver turned the engine off, and turned it back on again to solve the problem.
Really?
If it was that easy, why did he have to do the full production?
Just to humiliate me?
Just to let his steam off?
Or was it also because I look so Asian, and so lost?
(Oh, the things I would endure for a hookup!)
Footnote here: My host told me I could have been fined £80 for pressing the bus’s emergency button; and if it were the Metro trains, £1,000!
***
Bus story never ends.
Around my stop, I asked the driver for B*rt Avenue stop.
I don’t know if he was really just pissed, or he’s really useless.
He said, “I don’t know.”
So, he took me past two other stops before I finally decided (rather blindly) to get off.
And I freaking walked 11 minutes more (maybe 8 because I’m always faster than Google map estimates) to get to my man of the day.
***
(12:40) — So how quickly u gonna cum?
= Off the bus
— Send location
— And ill give directions
(So I sent a map by the Grindr location function—the arrow!)
— Can u see zebra crossing?
= Not yet. Not on B*rt yet
— Let me know when on b*rt
= Ok. B*rt now
— I’m number 0*, look for grey qashqai
(I don’t know what a qashqai is, but I know 0*!)
= Green door, I’m in front
— Yeah, come in as I’m currently on call with work
(I opened the door, and entered the house.
Is that a pink Dior bag on the console table?
Does he really have a girlfriend?)
— Upstairs (12:55)
***
So, I climbed the stairs, and saw him in his bedroom.
I didn’t even say Hi because he was on a call conference—Zoom, Skype, I don’t know.
I waved.
He has on a grey bathrobe; and underneath, a blue boxer shorts.
In sign language, he directed me to get naked.
And as soon as his call was dropped, he paid me full attention.
***
We have to be quick.
He’s on his lunch break (1 pm), no mention of his girlfriend at all.
He gave me the bottle of lotion, got totally naked, and laid on his stomach.
I was so excited I didn’t even check the brand of his lotion.
He is beautiful.
More beautiful than his photo.
The potbelly is there, but he’s clean shaven now, and the red hair is bright (think Disney’s “Brave” movie), and making me horny.
And his face is so… ahhh!
***
The massage didn’t last long.
Tight knots in the upper back, but I’m on a clock!
I didn’t come just to give a massage; I want to do some serious deep tissue massage, if you follow my drift.
So I just rubbed my engorged peterhood against him.
And after three minutes or so, I used my naked body to massage the length of his naked body.
He liked it.
As well as the small moans I made.
Because my moans are so sexy in any bedroom.
***
And then, he turned for me to massage, well, his upper thighs, and lower abdomen.
He had a small uncircumcised dick, so there goes the “top.”
Right there and then, I knew that this was my game: I am going to top this guy!
If he is a virgin, I’m gonna devirginize him.
If he is lying, I’m gonna f*ck the sh*t out of him. (To be continued)/PN
