Craigslist Experience #44

Another short and sweet one.  Kind of.  (There's always a hitch, right?)

Another morning, another CL search.  My regular bud (John Smith) had said maybe Thursday, I could come for some “service”.  Thursday morning rolls around and he said, sorry.  Maybe tomorrow.  (Rats!  Cockblocked!)

So, there was this posting rather early:

Down, Dirty and Kinky - 43 (Salt Lake City)
Reply to: XXXXXXXX@craigslist.org

Bi-top looking for other adventurous gay and bi guys that want to play on the downlow.  Handsome and masculine, DND free. You must be dnd free, hnw proportionate, list your stats and status in the first email and include a recent photo to be considered. I host. Rimming, sucking, fucking, shaving and more will be on the menu. Would love to put together a group. I hate endless emails, so please be serious. 

So, as adventourous, as I may feel, I still don't feel like I'm “kinky” however, I hit him back and said I was just looking for a tame BJ, was he interesed?

He was.

Could I travel?  To Big Cottonwood Canyon?

Well, sure.  Why not.  It's early and I'm horny.

He's just a little sketchy.  I got his number, but he wouldn't give me his address to plug into my GSP.

“Best to call.  Addresses on GPS don't work up here, not like the city.”

So, we hammer out the details.  I call him when I leave.  I call at the mouth of the canyon, and I call again when I'm 8 miles up the canyon, and see “6 dumpsters”  


It was then he said to me, “do you like to fuck?”  That kind of freaked me out, because I was pretty clear that I just wanted a BJ.  I told him, I've tried it and wasn't very good, and I am never going to bottom, he sounded disappointed, almost surprised.  It was about this time that I got worried that I might be a candidate for being locked up in some cabin basement, and my dismembered body taken out into the woods, bit by bit, to be fed to the Coyotes.

So, I brushed these thoughts aside, and made it to the gate.  He was still on the phone with me, and I saw a silver car at the gate.  “is that you in the silver car at the gate? I query.   "No, is someone else at the gate?” He asks in response.

Then he discloses exactly what he wants me to do.  Park my car off the side of the road, and he'll come and get me and take me back to his place in his car.

Okay....the CL serial killer theory is starting to sound more possible.

While I still have him on the phone, I say....  “you know what dude, this sounds really sketchy, and I'm going to bail.” 

He says “Okay” and I say “Good-by”  And that was that.  


I drove all the way back home, through morning rush hour traffic.  I expected an angry e-mail from the dude, but there was nothing.  I didn't bother to write and tell him I got the creeps.

So,this brings me to the good part of the day.  Why can't I just have the good part of the day without having to go through all the bullshit?

The post:

looking for a host in SLC later this morning - m4m - 44 (SLC)
Reply to: xxxxxxxx-1452380717@craigslist.org

I am a bi, married guy looking for a host for some safe, nsa fun. I am fit, 5'6", 145, 6" cut, versatile, and std free. Would like to bottom for the right guy but am open to anything safe and fun. Please be able to host - hung guys preferred. Send stats, pic and the time you are available. Thanks.

I hit him back, letting him know I wasn't hung, but qualified in all other aspects, and he hits me back saying he' just leaving for SLC, and gives me his cell phone number.

I called he said he was definitely interested and we set it up.

He got to the car dealership, which was 5 minutes from my house, and rang me back.  I drove over and picked him up.

The guy was shorter than me.  He was classic Jewish looking guy . Not that I give a shit one way or another.   He was wearing shorts and had sculpted legs.  He had on a long sleeved t-shirt, but I could tell he was lean.  That was confirmed later when the shirt came off.  Maybe not the best looking dude ever, but crap, he had a smokin hot body!  He had a thick mop of almost kinky curly hair, in kind of a 70's cut.  To complete the Woody Allen stereotype, he wore glasses that never came off, even when he was blowing me.   The ride back to the house was awkwardly silent.  He was probably thinking I was going to turn out to be the CL Killer.

We got back here, and he used the bathroom while I cued up the twink porn in the DVD player.  I had my pants off and was in my boxers on the couch when he returned.   He sat down next to me and I wasted no time and undid his pants.  He stood up to take them down, and I discovered he was going commando.

He had a nice dick.  Much bigger than mine and a nice black bush above it.  I made a grab and tried to massage some life into it.  It worked.  Similarly, he fished around in my boxers, found my limp dick, and with somewhat cold fingers, got me hard.  I then removed the underwear.

I was debating on going down on his nice dick, but I wanted it to be clear what my needs were, so I instead, put my hand behind his head and pulled him down onto my boner.  He got the message and went to work.

There was a lot more “lollipop” licking that I would like, but the sucking part was pretty decent.  


When he got tired, I asked “want me to do you?” and he said “Sure!” and so we swapped positions.  He was pretty vocal, and even worked up a “yah, suck my cock” or two.
After a few minutes, I felt his balls rise up to his hard body, and I pulled off, and said “don't cum” to which he replied “I almost did.” 

“You'll get yours” I assured him.

I didn't want to take any chances.  A married bi-guy, might just get off himself and let me worry about my own orgasim.  If I was interested in jacking myself off, I wouldn't have gone to this trouble.

So, I let him assume the kneeling position again and he did a rather nice job of blowing me.  Not too much later, I cold feel the pressure build, and announced that I was getting close.  I wanted to see what his reaction would be.  To my delight, he stayed on my dick and mumbled “m-huh.”  “You want me to cum” I then asked.  “M-hum” I heard again.

Okay, green light and I quit talking and concentrated on the wonderful feeling going on down south as I watched the two hot euro-boys sucking each other on the TV.  The boy on screen, started spewing all over the face of the other boy, and I was right behind, pumping my load into some hot Hebrew mouth.  I opened my eyes when I was coming down to see him milking the last drops from my dick with his hand, while my cum was running out of his mouth, and back down on my dick.

I grabbed the little white terry cloth towel I had set out and use it to wipe myself off.  He also used it to wipe his mouth, and possibly to spit in, I'm not sure.

What I did know, is that now I had to suck him off.  I can't say I didn't want to, but it wasn't with the fervor I would have felt, if I had not just cum.

His dick was covered in white stuff, and I asked him if he came (cummed?)  He said “no, not yet.”  I guess the white stuff was MY jizz that he had allowed to dribble down to his dick, or spit there on purpose.  He was stroking his cock, working it in.

I took the cum rag, and wiped his dick off, and as I knelt in front of him, started blowing him to the best of my abilities.

Judging my his moans, it was working.  His dick wasn't as hard as it was before, yet it took only two minutes of dedicated sucking before I felt his abdominal muscles tighten and harden and his dick grew fat and pulsed jet after jet of cum into my mouth.  He was moaning and sighing with pleasure, and I was doing my best to hold it in my mouth, until his orgasm was finished.

When I sensed that he was through, I gently pulled off, being careful not to let my teeth scrape his dick head.  I spit a big ol' acrid gob of jism into the cum rag.  He was leaning back on the couch smiling.

I said, “That was gross, but hot.”  I hope he knew what I meant.

We got cleaned up and dressed.  The ride back to the dealership wasn't quite as awkward.  He was definitely more relaxed.  We joked about how if more car repair shops offered this service for their waiting customers, they could probably increase their business.

When I got home, I saw the cum rag on the washer, and for some weird reason, I sniffed it.  FUCK.  Cum stinks!  I'm sure mine doesn't but his sure did!  Ha ha ha.