Kazander and I are having our bathroom repainted and a spot in our bedroom wall fixed. So we checked in to my favorite hotel on the Strip, and had a kink fest planned for the next two nights.
We had plans for both nights we were staying. The first night, Sounder was going to come over and suck Kazander’s cock. The next night was set to be our first cuckold experience.
I had written an ad on Craigslist looking for a bull, and Kazander sifted through the replies and brought me the two most promising responders.
One of them was quite attractive, but just rubbed me the wrong way and came off as a douchebag. Then, when I gave him my number, expecting him to text, I got a call from a blocked number.
Yeah, no. That screams stalker and serial killer to me. I told him so over email.
He said he doesn’t have a cell phone, so he can’t text.
I said, “You don’t have a cell phone? You’re the only adult in the country without a cell phone?”
He explained that he has a phone, but it’s a work phone, and he can’t share the number or text.
I don’t buy it. And I know what he’s doing. I’ve done the same thing before. If he doesn’t want to continue seeing me, he wants to be able to cut all ties with no blowback.
And no, that’s not happening. We’re not 23 anymore. And if I’m going to take the risk that you’re not a stalker, then you’re going to have to take the risk too.
The other, we’ll call Scout. Scout isn’t local, but is in town every couple weeks. We emailed, we texted, we arranged to meet.
Kazander and I met him the next night, and he was just a blast to hang out with. He and Kazander got along great, and I look forward to playing with him.
He was supposed to come over the second night. But a health issue postponed that til the next time he’s in town.
Sounder had a family thing go down, and had to cancel.
So much for the kink fest.
But part of me thinks it’s for the best. Last night, for 4th of July, I got impressively, remarkably wasted. Kazander found me passed out on the tile floor in our living room, cuddling with the treadmill, using the rug as a blanket, and had pulled the cushion off the couch to use as a pillow.
And I vaguely remember being surprised at how comfortable that was. I would’ve stayed there all night if I hadn’t gotten cold. As it was, Kazander had to practically carry me to bed.
There’s very little I remember about last night, and when I woke up this morning I was still drunk. I was stunned when Kazander showed me the bottle I’d been drinking, and informed me that I’d drank an entire 5th of tequila by myself, in 3 hours.
Breakfast and a shit load of water kept a hangover at bay, but I feel like I’ve been beat to hell.
I’m covered in bruises I have no memory of receiving. I have a bruise on my forehead and cheek. My neck has no visible bruises, but feels bruised.
I don’t remember falling, and I didn’t fight anyone. According to the spectators of my impressive disaster, I sat in a lawn chair watching the neighbors’ fireworks and screaming the lyrics to “America, Fuck Yeah” at midnight, then made it to my house on my own 2 feet, without incident.
So I could probably use a recovery period. And even with the next two nights being quieter than intended, this is a much-needed holiday away from the house. But I swear if I get one more text from anyone who lives there, I’m telling them I broke my phone and will be unreachable.