By: Dickhole
I wake up, disoriented, and look around the dark room that I am in. As my eyes slowly adjust I’m able to breathe a sigh of relief, as I can tell I woke up in my own bed this time and not the bed of that one guy who I meant to ghost but sometimes accidentally drunk text.
My head is pounding, yes, I’m hungover again. No, I’m not proud of it. Not that I’m ashamed, either. Just a little regretful because this feels like it’s going to be a rough one. I get up and head into my apartment kitchen to prepare myself for the battle ahead.
I go directly to the freezer and pull out a bag of chicken nuggets. I throw a bunch in the air fryer and start it up.
I head into the bathroom and grab the bottle of ibuprofen from the side mirror cabinet. I take three and throw them back, attempting to swallow without water. However, my throat is obviously dry as fuck from being hungover, so I begin to choke. I quickly turn on the sink, bend over, and drink until I borderline get water intoxication.
I stand up, turn off the sink, and dry my soaking wet mouth off with the hand towel. I head back into the kitchen where I open a cabinet, from which I take two bottles. Out of one bottle, I grab 10 mg of melatonin that I swallow with more water. Out of the other bottle, I take a 10 mg indica edible. This adds up to a total of 20 mg of what will surely be the craziest induced sleep of my entire life.
Oh well, anything to not have to be cognizant for this hangover.
I take the nuggets out of the air fryer, scarf them down with ranch, fill up a glass of ice-cold water, and head back to my bed for a much-deserved nap.
***
Upon waking up from my nap I realize that my prediction was right, and I did have some wacko dreams.
I dreamt about a person who I haven’t seen or thought about in forever, which is what normally happens when I take melatonin. This time it was one of my sister’s good friends, super straight, at least I think. The last time I saw him was probably when he was about 22, and he had a bangin’ bod then. I can only imagine what it’s like now.
Anyways, I had wild dream sex with the fuzzy image of who I remember to be an extremely hot man, and upon just waking up and realizing that it was not real life but in fact a dream, now find myself extremely, extremely horny. Unfortunately, since there is no way for me to have sex with the actual version of this person, I have to use the next best thing: a stranger.
I think about the many ways that I could go about getting my rocks off. I could use a hookup app and find a true, total stranger, but that comes with some drawbacks. Firstly, I want to get my dick sucked, not murdered, cut into tiny pieces, and spread out into many different dumpsters across Chicago.
Secondly, then you have to deal with the pleasantries.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How r u?”
“Good, how r u?”
“Good. Wanna suck my dick?”
“What? No.” *blocked
And let me be clear, I could get my dick sucked that fast if I truly wanted to. Just not from anyone cute, because they have too much self-respect. The kinds of guys who would reply yes that quickly are the kinds of guys who you probably don’t want to be putting your genitals in their mouths without seeing a clean STD test report from first.
Self-respect! That reminds me.
I go into my phone contacts and scroll to the N’s. I find the one I’m looking for and click on it. His name in the contact is simply “No Self-Respect.”
I send him a text: sup
No Self-Respect is a few years younger than me. I don’t know what it is about younger guys that makes them so desperate sometimes, but this guy was on another level. The first time we hooked up was pretty normal, we made plans to hang out, we watched a movie, and it led to us doing the dirty. (I topped, of course, I don’t bottom for desperate people.)
After that one hangout, I could already tell I would not want to hang out with him ever again unless it was just for sex. Our personalities did not mesh, which means I found him almost insufferable. Not insufferable enough that I wouldn’t ever hook up with him again, but close. The next couple of days he texted me too much, so I had to ignore him to put him in his place. He quickly realized I wasn’t interested like that, and backed off.
One second, he texted back. It says “Getting dinner with my parents soon. Why, what’s up?” Now watch this.
I send back: Nothing, I was just feeling horny.
Anyways, the first time after that, I was horny one day and thought to text him. I hit him up, and he said that he was in the middle of grocery shopping, and asked if I could wait 45 minutes. I told him no, and he left right then and there and drove home.
The next time he was at a friend’s pregame. It was a Friday night, probably around 7:00 p.m., and I didn’t want to go out. However, I did want to get laid. He ended up leaving the pregame and going back to it after a quickie.
Ope, another text from him. “Shoot, we’re just leaving to go to the restaurant. I don’t suppose you can wait a couple of hours?”
Aww, he knows me so well. I reply: That’s okay I’ll find someone else.
And then in a separate text: Have fun with your parents!
Another one of the times he had just gotten to the gym, so he ended up walking all the way back to his apartment, and then we fucked, and then he went all the way back to the-
Another text. “Give me five minutes.” Hmm. I guess I can wait five minutes. For what, who knows?
Five minutes later…
“You want to come here?”
I stare at the text, not sure what he means. I text back: Where’s here?
I don’t even leave the text conversation, as I can see him start texting back immediately. “Gino’s. Isn’t that close to you?”
I raise my eyebrow at my phone. Text: Isn’t that an Italian restaurant?
“Yeah but I just checked and the bathroom stalls go all the way to the floor. It’s like a private room. I could blow you.”
Holy shit, he’s crazy. A crazy genius. A crazy, desperate, genius.
“How long until you could be here?”
I check the location in my maps app, it’s a seven-minute walk from my apartment. I relay that information to him.
“Text me when you’re here. I’ll tell you what stall I’m in.” Dang. He’s really going to outdo himself today, isn’t he?
I head out.
***
Ten minutes later I get to Gino’s and text him: About to walk in.
“Lightly knock on the leftmost stall.”
I head inside where the host stand, and unfortunately the hostess, greets me. “For one?” she asks, rudely.
“I’m actually just meeting someone who’s already here,” I say truthfully.
“Do you know where they’re seated?”
“I do.”
She beckons me on. I start to walk past her.
I stop and turn back around. “Do you have a bathroom?” I ask.
She turns and points in the direction. I smile at her in thanks and she smiles back before turning forward again.
I head into the bathroom and look around, it’s seemingly empty except for me. There are three stalls, and just like No Self-Esteem instructed me to do, I knock on the left bathroom stall door, which does indeed extend all the way to the floor.
The door cracks open, and I use this as an invitation to step inside. I have to squeeze in for some reason, and I see as soon as I get inside the reason is because he’s already on his knees, underneath each of them is a roll of toilet paper. Baby.
He closes the door behind me and locks it. “Hey,” he whispers.
“Yup,” I respond.
“Can you be fast-ish? I sort of have to get back to dinner.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Of course I don’t try my best, what he lacks in self-esteem he makes up in blow job skills. It feels great, so I manage to last as long as I can. Well, as long as I can up to ten minutes anyway, because let’s face it, at that point I’m just wasting my time too.
“Where do you want me to finish?” I ask him.
He stops sucking just long enough to say “My mouth” and then gets right back to it. I finish soon after.
He swallows and stands up. “I’ll leave first,” I say, tucking my still-hard dick up into the waistband of my shorts.
“Oh, goodbye I gues-” I don’t even let him finish his sentence before I unlock the door, leave the stall, and then the bathroom. I peek around the corner and swiftly exit the restaurant while the host is seating someone.
***
As I lie back in my bed, again feeling hungover, I think about what I’ve just done.
I almost have to repeat it back to myself just to make sure that actually happened. Did I really just have a guy suck me off in the bathroom stall of an Italian restaurant while his parents waited at the table because I couldn’t wait a couple of hours until he was finished to cum?
Yeah, maybe I did just do that.
But at least I wasn’t the guy who made his parents wait at the dinner table for 15 minutes while he went into the bathroom stall of an Italian restaurant to suck the dick of some guy he hardly knows, so.
I could be doing worse.