til we meet again

a few days ago, i was with rm, introduced by a mutual friend.

rm is younger than me, shorter than me, and very muscular. in fact, he had competed in a recent bodybuilding contest, though he didn't win. it was a shame, though it was pretty obvious to tell that his chances were slim right from the start, considering the bulk of the contestants were in his competitive (short) category. at 5'5 he did cut an impressive figure, with his very broad shoulders and heavily muscled torso that slowly tapered down to his taut six-packed stomach and splayed down to his heavy thighs and legs.

he wanted to meet at a motel, so we did. i fulfilled part of my muscle fantasy. as he headed to shower up, i washed him down. water and soap made our skin deliciously slippery. i stood behind him as we lathered, marveling at the size and hardness of his body. he leaned back against me, my hard cock nestling between the cheeks of his bubble butt.

and so the dance began. it was not tango, it was not waltz, it wasn't even a frenetic dance one would dance with gusto.

it was more like a shuffling of the feet to an awkward beat that soon ended on a low note.

so there we were, in bed. i, on top of his warm body - as he hugged me, suddenly had a thought. this was the second time we had been together, and the second time that it was unexciting. he didn't do much, the sex was not really passionate, nor was there even a foreplay. it was, as samantha jones would term it, a deal-breaker. and then and there i decided, it was over.

though he was hot, he was not mt.

i still crave for mt.

so it was over for rm.