2. McKinley
I’m sitting in bed with an ice pack on my face when a notification pings on my phone.
ScoringChance217 wants to chat.
My best friend’s wife, Kourtney, created an innovative porn-infused dating app called FreeMe . People can match with those who have the same sexual preferences as them, and are also looking for long-term love. It’s ingenious. It saves you the disappointment of connecting with someone you aren’t sexually compatible with, or someone who isn’t looking for the same things you are.
Plus, the videos people post are really hot.
I don’t post my face, for obvious reasons. I want people to get to know me before finding out I’m a professional hockey player with a shit ton of money. I haven’t figured out what I’ll say when I get past the talking stage, and try to meet someone in real life, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
Because I haven’t gotten past the talking stage yet. I haven’t clicked with anyone, haven’t felt that spark of excitement.
I click on ScoringChance ’s profile, but there isn’t much to see. No pictures, and an empty bio, which isn’t uncommon for an app like this. Many people are here to watch, afraid to make that first step toward their true desires. It’s crazy how many people suppress the things they truly want in life. But Kourtney’s website allows people to unlock that side of themselves and explore.
I accept the message request, and a private chat opens on my screen.
ScoringChance217: Hi. Looks like we’re a match.
Me: Hi there. Looks that way.
Me: Not much to see on your profile though.
ScoringChance217: Yeah, I’m new here. Just feeling it out.
Me: I get it. Tell me a little about yourself.
Me: Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.
ScoringChance217: You first.
Me: Well, I’m a man, for starters. I’m 26. I love sports, specifically hockey, and Mexican food. Hate golf and hate when the cheese on pizza gets cold.
ScoringChance217: That is the most random information you could’ve given me.
Me: That’s the way my brain works. Perks of having ADHD.
Me: Your turn.
ScoringChance217: I’m a man as well. Also in my late-twenties; also like hockey. Asian food is my favorite. I agree, golf is pretty boring. But I don’t mind cold pizza.
I knew he’d be into hockey. His username gave it away. A scoring chance is a hockey term.
Me: Got any mental illnesses like me?
ScoringChance217: Sorry, no. Extra point for you, I guess.
ScoringChance217: But I do have a ton of daddy issues. That should count for something.
Me: Ah, point for you then.
Me: My family is awesome.
ScoringChance217: Lucky you.
ScoringChance217: Why are you on this app?
Me: Looking for something more than a casual hookup.
Me: What about you?
ScoringChance217: Can I be honest?
Me: Always.
ScoringChance217: I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I want to find something... find someone... but I don’t know what to do once I find it.
Me: What do you mean?
ScoringChance217: I haven’t come out yet.
My stomach drops with disappointment. I don’t want to get involved with another person who isn’t going to be loud and proud about being with me. It felt awful when Kellerman kept me in the shadows during college.
Me: What’s holding you back?
ScoringChance217: The same thing that holds so many people back. Fear of judgment.
Me: So, you’d rather upset yourself than upset the people around you?
ScoringChance217: It sounds shitty when you put it that way.
Me: Sorry not sorry.
Me: It’s the truth.
ScoringChance217: You’re right.
Me: Have you even been with a man before?
ScoringChance217: Yes, as well as women.
ScoringChance217: I know what I like, and I know what I want. Just figuring out the other stuff as I go.
Me: It’s kind of like ripping off a bandaid. Once you do it, it’s over, and you can finally start living your life.
Me: The people who truly love you won’t care, and the ones who don’t will see themselves out like the trash always does.
ScoringChance217: I like your mentality.
Me: You’ve seen my pictures. I think you like more than my mentality
ScoringChance217: I do. Your body is very sexy.
Me: Send me something. I’d like to see you.
ScoringChance217: What do you want to see?
Me: Whatever you’re comfortable with showing me.
ScoringChance217: *insert picture*
ScoringChance217: This good?
I stare down at my phone, eyes wide and lips parted.
Olive skin and cut abs fill my screen. The stranger has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, but it cuts off so I can’t see its entirety.
Me: Damn.
Me: Will you show me more?
Me: Or we can switch to a video chat.
There’s a short pause before he responds, and I expect him to decline.
ScoringChance217: Okay, but I won’t show my face.
I click on the call button, and wait for him to accept.
When the video chat opens, it’s practically pitch-black in his room, aside from a dim light illuminating where his hand is wrapped around his cock.
“I’ve never done this before,” he whispers, his voice raspy.
“You’re doing just fine.” I keep my voice low, to prevent the possibility of him recognizing it. “You have a really nice dick, by the way.”
The silhouette is long and thick, but not too thick. I can barely make out the dark hair surrounding, but it seems neat and not overgrown.
He chuckles. “You do too.”
I give myself a few strokes, showing it off to the camera proudly. “I want to hear you come. Will you jerk off for me?”
“Yes.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” I reposition myself on the bed, and adjust the phone to give him a better angle. “Since we matched, that means you like dirty talk.”
“I do.”
“I wish I could taste your cock in my mouth. Suck on your head, and run my tongue along it.”
He groans. “Would you choke on it?”
“Is that what you like? You want to feel your cock hit the back of my throat?”
“Fuck, yes.” His hand moves faster.
“Have you ever fucked a man before? Or been fucked by one?”
“Both.”
His answer surprises me, and a loud moan slips free. “I’d love to bend you over and bury myself deep inside you. Fuck you from behind while I reach around and jerk you off at the same time.”
The sounds of his hand slapping against his skin fills the room, mixed with his grunts of pleasure.
“But I wouldn’t let you come. Not until you fucked me after. What position do you want to fuck me in, hmm?”
“On your back,” he pants. “With your legs around my waist, your heels digging into my ass, and my hand around your throat.”
My hips jerk at the thought of being choked by his massive hand. “God, I wish you were here right now. It’d feel so much better than my hand.”
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man. I haven’t wanted to since Kellerman and I parted ways four years ago. Focusing my attention on women helped bury the memories of him, and all that we were when we were together.
“I’m close,” he warns. “Come with me.”
“Not yet. Wait.”
“Please.” His voice cracks, and the sound of his desperation does something to me.
“Fuck, I like the sound of you begging.”
He gives me more. “Please. Please, come with me. I need you.”
Our hands move faster, our strokes sloppy and uneven as we moan louder.
Then I watch as spurts of cum spill out onto his stomach, over and over until he’s sated. His deep moans push me over the edge, and then I unload onto my stomach, wishing I knew his name so he could hear it on my lips while I come.
Once I catch my breath, I tell him exactly that. “What’s your name, stranger?”
But then he ends the call.