Being in a new city, I’m always reminded how dried up my neighborhood really is.
Truth is I’ve met all the handsome guys who meet in dingy old Queens (slut shame!) and ridden the creeper roller-coaster of creating/deleting profiles. Now, if a hottie emerges on Grindr, I ask for about 732 photos, a Instagram handle, a Facebook add and three friend’s phone numbers as reference checks. Anyway… In Canada, I’m shiny and new and not jaded. I was the belle of the fucking ball, y’all!
First, sooo many huge dicks! I mean, I used to think I had a big dick but I had a hard time finding my dick when we were naked comparatively. The 9-inch uncut, infamous “baby arm” dick is a common occurrence in Canada, so much so that 2 of the 4 dudes I hooked up with had them and the other two were solid 7’s. What’s in the water and where do I drink it?
Second, I need to have (another) conversation with my Mom about the whole circumcision business. Foreskin is such fun!
Anyway back on track… in my last hours in town, I find a good looking, fit guy. His pictures were handsome, he was wearing a harness and he wasn’t 21 (oh! Three, ALL of Montreal is under 25… so beautiful young Men, who speak French with have 9-in cocks and are versatile. Why am I American?)
Regardless, I was intrigued by this 30 year old. We decide to meet and I gear up to leave my friend’s place. Being in a foreign country I never pony up the cash for a phone plan. I grab wifi but outside of that, it’s like living in the 90’s with no phone.
iPhone user tip: Google Maps still works on Airplane mode!
I study the maps and I’m off. I grab a Bixie Public bike (a little leg workout for a good testosterone boost) and ride through the Park La Fontaine (gorgeous!) to meet him in another area of town. I find the building and knock on the door. No answer. Not remembering if we decided to do the doors-unlocked-find-him-ass-up-and-ready fantasy. I covertly try the handle. Locked. Knock again. He answer in a flourish of energy like he had been scouring his apartment clean for my arrival but, after taking one look around, he DEFINITELY wasn’t cleaning. Maybe doing Jazzercise?
Anyway, he is pleasant. He’s a little jittery (nervous? I mean I AM a stunning, New York City visitor with a micro-penis ::insert hair toss::). He asks if I want a cigarette (death) but more importantly if he can have one. I had an ex who smoked and it’s slightly sexy on the mouth for me (Go figure! I’m a rare breed). One puff of smoke with the lighter next to the mountain of butts and I immediately regret the decision.
It’s now that I pet his cat stretched on the rug (a sucker for the ginger pussy). He claims the cat is trans. Come again? Only in Montreal. My mind gleefully bends as I flashback to this convo where the female cat tells him that it identifies as a male cat. Again, only in Montreal would the Transcat be all the rage. He continues to tell me that he didn’t see “Goldie’s” balls for 7 weeks and then “tah-dah!” I say nothing.
I sit down on the armchair and look at him again. He’s sexy in a ‘seen a life’ kind of way — a used but still hot, former gogo boy. There is no way he’s 30 (or at least I hope) but I go with it. I imagine how good he’s going to suck my dick. I’m sure whatever gag reflex he had was broken off on one of the 9-inchers at least 20 years ago. He might be able to swallow my balls too!
It’s now I notice the huge holes in the ceiling. It’s as if someone tried to shoot their way through the ceiling to escape or decided install a fireman’s pole to the upstairs apartment. On the floor under the spot, a crumpled sex sling. You had a sex sling? In your living room? I slightly disgusted, slightly turned on and slightly disappointed (I want to fuck a guy in a sling! Wahhh).
He shows me the hooks as I turn on my Bob Villa Mr. Fix-It Smile and explain that he needed to screw into the stud (just like I’m planning to do with him) We venture into the career portion of our chat. Impressed by my being a performer, he introduces ‘Starlight Express’ (not the musical on roller skates… Although I’m up for that challenge/kink/bucket list item).
‘Starlight’ is his alter ego/performer/recording artist creation. He gets really excited to tell me about his concept- he sings and strips… Um, so burlesque? Gypsy Rose Lee and such? He whips out his computer. We proceed to watch a video of him in a fat suit wearing a Baseball outfit (complete with bat) slowly stripping to his live singing vocals.
I can’t remember all the well-crafted lyrics but there was definitely a chorus loop of ‘Porn Fuck. Straight Fuck. Porn Fuck. Straight Fuck’ chanted to house music for 3 mins and 54 seconds. It’s at this point that he tells me he’s done a little T and G and hasn’t slept in 48 hours.
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