A Chance Meeting

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“So what do you look for in a woman?” he grabbed the seat in front of me, and sat down with a smirk. He was my height, jet black hair with elegant spikes and a commanding manner.

I continued reading my book: “I am not here to look for a woman, I have one at home.” I replied.

“Then what are you are looking for?”

“Possibly some quiet reading time?” I said, and thought: this could be interesting, “or maybe a good friend,” I offered with a smile.

“And what would be some of the qualities of this friend?” he leaned forward on the table.

“Intelligent, extroverted, creative…”

“And of course he should never fear to share.” With this last one I could not help but laugh.

“Need he not be attractive?” he responded.

“A smart friend would leave that to me.”

I returned to my book, thinking the game was over, but he would not budge, nor did he say anything. The waiter came to our table and he ordered a beer, it came and he sipped from it.

“As you won’t leave, it seems I should ask what brought you here?”

“Well, like you, I came for a quiet place to catch up on some reading, but as I have misplaced my book, and do so fear looking like a fool were I to sit alone, came to a quiet table of one, making it an interesting table of two.”

“Ah, quite the speech.”

“Don’t demetevler escort be cheeky.”

“Sorry.” I should not have apologized, and I don’t know why I did, except for that certain something in his voice that in some primitive cerebral chamber told me it would be a good idea.

“Well, it was certainly an interesting conversation.”

“It was, but I feel that we could much better talk at my apartment, this place is much too yuppie for my taste.”

When I did not respond he said: “I do feel we could be the best of friends.” His hand wandered up my thigh, he squeezed and I pulled away.

“I don’t think so.” I said.

He got up, stepping closer to me, and as I was still sitting, his pant covered phallus was right before my eyes.

“Waitress!” he called, “Check please.”

“That’ll be 50 shekels,” he nodded, put the money on the table and then turned to me, even closer now, picked up my phone and dialed his number, then shut both: “I promise that next time you call, I wont hang up.”


The entire day was spent in complete and utter confusion.

Though I don’t see myself as an emotional man, even I couldn’t help but sneak a few glimpses at the phone.

Pretty quickly after he left, I got back home, made my self a second cup of coffee and sat down in my back door garden. I rent a three bedroom apartment and one of its greatest perks is that nice little garden, closed off from the otele gelen escort world, that was all my own.

I sat down, with my cigarette and my coffee, contemplating the day’s events.

My phone rang, I picked it up and read the message:

To whom may we turn?

When our nightmares turn us so?

It was him.

Nightmares? Are you the boogey man?

I’m not afraid, only mildly interested.

I responded casually, and sipped my coffee.


Night came, as all nights do, and I enjoyed a nice cup of Merlot at home while watching some teenage comedy, had my last cigarette of the day, and fell asleep.

Very uncharacteristically, and perhaps very much in the spirit of the day, I forgot to close my window, so that when I woke up only a few hours later, feeling a heavy stare, and a salty taste on my lips, I saw him.

“Hello,” I lapped at my lips instinctively; a smile came to his face: “I thought we agreed that I would call you?”

“We did, but I just couldn’t wait to share.”

“Your cum?”

“So clever, even when just woken.”

“What the hell made you think that you should come over here?”

“The boogey man.”

“What the…?”

“No, no, no.” He nodded his finger at me as if I was a little boy: “I give you far too much credit for you to start cursing away at me.”

Then he stood up, moving to one of those clothes stands we all have in our bedrooms, balgat escort withdrawing a cigarette from his pants.

His pants?? I thought, and then it struck me, he was naked but for a nice black sweater, his dick at half mast with a bubble of cum at the tip.

“Now that you got your first glimpse of the scary boogey man, want to dry it off? Oh don’t look so disgusted, you still have not cleaned yourself after all.”

“What would be the point?”

“Too true, and still I feel that you should show some more enthusiasm.”

I sat up in bed and lit my own cigarette: “Should I call the cops or are you goin’ to leave now?”

“That’s not how it’s gonna work,” he said with a sexy smirk of confidence.

“Its not?”

“No. This show you have put up until now was cute, I must admit, but it’s getting tiring awfully quickly. So… what we’ll do is this: You will tell me now that you need me, that I am what you have been looking for these past however many years and that you are ever so grateful for every single seed you are blessed to bath in.”

“Is that what gets you off?”

“No, what gets me off is that PASSIVE that’s written on your forehead in blazing letters, what gets me off is the absolute certainty that you will never stop me. I have no need to hear it.” He motioned with his cigarette, got up, moved closer to me, in my mind’s eye I already saw him abusing my mouth and chocking me with his pretentiously delicious sperm.

He had other plans, he got within a foot of my bed, held his prick in his right hand, took a puff of his cigarette and showered stream after stream of urine all over my face, my body, my sheets. I was shocked, I was horrified, and I was gone. I was drenched: my taste buds overloaded, my body shaking, I didn’t know what to do.

And he? Now empty, put his pants on and walked out the door.

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