Curious mood? More like reflective...

But I was curious (still am) when I went to the hotel to meet up with the person I'd contacted through that listing site (the one that seems inhabited by school kids out for a laugh and desperate people... errr). Yes, I suppose I was.
It all seemed good - but I didn't hang around to think through the detail... it was one of those, right, shave, clean up and out, tin hat (protection) and off I went.
The hotel wasn't a passion killer but nor did it raise expectations - there was no getting away from the fact that it felt seedy. I passed a Muslim man on the phone in reception, why should he know anything? He couldn't - but it made me feel as seedy as the grubby stairs. Dampened but not deterred my meet led me to the "room" - room was a feature notably lacking in the cupboard that was about big enough for the bed and little else.
We'd exchanged a few words, that was fine. It felt perfunctory, as if I was going through the motions at the GPs, you know where you cut-off and do what you need to do: strip down to your pants.
Laid on the bed he started playing with my nipples - someone could have been stabbing me with a fork and it would have felt more sensual. I realised that if I'm going to suck a nipple it has to be one that's 'attached' to a female... call me old fashioned but it's just the way I associate the two together. I have no doubt that it can be stimulating, but... That was it, the smell of the shower gel, the pokey room, and the realisation that gay men want something that I can't give them (unless they're after the basics) was enough to have killed the embers of any "passion" still glowing.
It was a lesson. It didn't kill the curiosity but it has narrowed it down a little. This may be crude but as much a I love the emotional comfort of a woman, the kissing and touch, when it comes to satisfying a male encounter there is only one thing to be rubbed... (at least as a starter).

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