Nigerian Joe

I was talking to a guy on a certain unnamed dating site, hoping to meet some new people and maybe have some fun. 

Here's the thing about this particular site: it's full of assholes - brimming with them.  If I reach out to 13 guys, 10 will ignore me, 2 will block me and 1 will tell me to go fuck myself.  But still, I persist, because I never seem to learn my lesson.  I'm also horny 95% percent of the time. 

We got to talking and "Joe" accused me of ignoring him the last time we spoke.  Honestly, I didn't remember much about him.  This particular site deletes conversations after 10 days unless you subscribe.  I'm pretty sure that subscribing is not going to magically unlock the hidden portion of the site where the hot guys hang out who are nice and don't get impatient while you try to find out if they are serial killers, so I'll pass.

As we continued our chat, Joe revealed that most guys dodge him when he asks to borrow a few bucks. 

Oh, here we go. 

Years ago, at the start of the internet, some gay guy must have agreed to give a straight man money in exchange for nothing at all and now we have an epidemic of straight men bleeding gay guys dry just for the honor of talking to them.

Conveniently, Joe is also out of work.  I'm pretty sure that's what he told me last time when he asked for money.  For the record, I can't stand these sob stories, especially when you get a selfie that includes a fancy looking watch and a pinkie ring.

I wasn't buying his sob story, so I decided to offer advice and told him to try temping, but he scoffed at the idea of a temp job. 

Whatever, Joe.

Still, he continued to ask for money and I tried to steer the conversation into my pants.  He asked me if I wanted him to be my master.  So I said, "Yes," just to see his response.

"Then your master orders you to send over that money now!"  How many of you saw that coming?

I rolled my eyes when he told me I could go to Western Union.  I pretended like I'd never heard of them, but he countered with this:

"If you tell me your exact location, I can find one near you."

How adorable.  Because I couldn't possibly find one using the INTERNET.

You know, it's one thing to hang out with somebody, have a little fun, and spot the guy a few bucks, but to ask for money from a total stranger is just flat out begging.  And also, a turn off.

By this point, it was starting to feel like I was chatting with one of those Nigerian scammers, and was starting to doubt he was the cute Puerto Rican in the pictures he sent me.

In the end I just logged off the site and decided to start blogging again.

THE TUNNEL - An Erotic Short Story

THE TUNNEL is here!

Lovers of work boots and construction workers will be very entertained by this story.  Your satisfaction is assured.

Lester insults a construction worker on a hot summer day and is held against his will inside an old decaying building.

He tries to talk his way out of it, but things only get worse for him as he tries to survive against an onslaught of angry workers who are out for revenge.

This 5,700 word erotic boot fetish story includes boot related violence, sexual language and profanity.

EXCERPT:

Rick and Dean lead me down a cinder block-lined hall while the guards trail close behind. There is no way I’ll be able to escape, so I try to look for maybe an open window or door that I can jump through. I hear voices up ahead and they get louder as we get closer. As we turn the corner, the hallway is lined on either side with burly construction workers.

“Make a path, men. I have a surprise for you.”

The crowd splits, with the men turning to look at me, this outsider who is dressed in a flimsy t-shirt and shorts in contrast to them in their rugged jeans, boots, safety vests and hard hats. They glare at me, some muttering curses as I walk through. I don’t know why they are mad at me – I’ve never seen any of them.

One guy trips me and I almost fall. These massive guys would not hesitate to trample me en mass, crushing me to a pulp in mere seconds.

The hallway leads to an open area with what looks like a raised platform in the center.

“Come on, bitch,” says, Rick, grabbing me by the arm.

I follow him onto the platform and gaze upon the sea of angry workers. I still wish I knew why they were glaring at me.

Rick raises a bullhorn and introduces me; only it’s the worst introduction you could ever ask for in front of this audience. He lies to them, telling them I am here to break up their union and ruin their benefits. As ridiculous as it sounds, they believe him.

My skin goes white as the men yell and curse at me.

“It’s not true! It’s not true! He’s making this up!” I yell, but my voice is drowned out by the deafening roar of the men waving tools and sticks. Nothing’s stopping them from storming the platform and killing me, so I try to run, but Miguel and Jose grab me and I fight for my life. I can see Rick laughing, bullhorn in hand. The crowd is getting even more raucous so the guards pummel me with their fists to satisfy their blood lust

Buy THE TUNNEL for Amazon Kindle here

Don't have a kindle?  Click here to download Amazon's free Kindle app for your PC