interested so I can meet you and hopefully find out your real name : ) ”
I guess smiley faces get me every time. He seemed like an honest enough guy and maybe that’s what hooked me. I probably wasn’t going to find anything better in the next few days and I definitely wasn’t going to contact anal-fisting-antenna man (of course I’d keep antenna engineer in my inbox in case the urge ever came to have a fist rammed up my ass ever - you never know). My best option seemed to be Jim.
“Hi Jim, this is Konka. LOL. I’d love to meet. It’s about time I meet an honest guy and you seem down to Earth. Are you free to meet tomorrow around 9pm? There’s a lounge called the Diamond Club that’s close to my place. You know it?”
“I just checked and found the club on Yelp,” he replied an hour later. “So I have the address. Let’s meet tomorrow. I’ll be the guy with an IKEA shirt.” IKEA? I love that place. Half my furniture is from there. Does he really work there? Maybe Fully Datable was the site Roman talked it up to be.
I knew this place too well. Dia is at the counter, servicing not one but two lonely looking fucks. To my right is a table of 30 somethings, one of which caught my entrance and probably at this very moment has me inside his head saliva sucking his cock and performing what he can only imagine to be my first ever face fuck. What he doesn’t know is that at this very moment the thought of his thought is already starting to make me wet. Unfortunately for him I’m here to meet Jim, but I’ll be keeping the 30 year old face fucker in my back pocket in case Jim is a no show or turns out to be a creep.
And that’s when I see a bright blue IKEA shirt in the back of the room. As the man stands I see his full 5 foot 8 frame and slim but muscular arms and thighs.
“Jim?,” I say.
“Konka?” We both share a shy laugh. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m glad you found me here. Can I get you a drink?” He waves over Dia. Suddenly fear comes over me that Dia will announce I’m a regular here and ask me how many one night stands I’ve now had with men from her club. But as she takes our order she is the consummate professional.
“I hope you both enjoy my place. Simply call me if you need anything else,” she says in her motherly voice.
“Konka and I will definitely wave you over if we need anything,” Jim says.
I see Dia shoot me a glance and amused smile upon finding out my ‘name’ for this evening. “I’m sure you guys will have a great time tonight,” she says as she turns away and returns to her two sad, lonely customers at the bar.
“So, do you really work at IKEA?” I say.
“If you can keep a secret… yes I do. Is your name really Konka?” he says.
“If you can keep a secret… no,” I say with a smile. “But if this goes well I’ll make sure to tell you my real name.”
We both laugh and relax a little as we dive into a conversation about life, work, and relationships. I’m amazed to find he really does work at IKEA. He’s originally from Chicago and moved out to San Francisco a year ago to take on the position of the manager of the city’s IKEA. While I’ve been liberally fucking my brains out and letting life (well, except for the sex) pass me by, he’s conservative and has been sucked into his life in IKEA and hasn’t had the time or the energy to enjoy much leisure or, as he shyly admits, sexual pleasures.
I don’t reveal any of the history of Roman and I and how our split had driven me in search of nightly organic pleasure that only flesh can provide. I simply tell him I was in a committed relationship but have had nothing serious since then. After 30 minutes of conversation and a few cosmopolitans, I decide to ask him more about his job.
“So you know, I was excited when I discovered you work at IKEA. Almost all my furniture is from there,” I say. “Your hot dogs are also the best! Sorry to say this, especially to you, but I
I guess smiley faces get me every time. He seemed like an honest enough guy and maybe that’s what hooked me. I probably wasn’t going to find anything better in the next few days and I definitely wasn’t going to contact anal-fisting-antenna man (of course I’d keep antenna engineer in my inbox in case the urge ever came to have a fist rammed up my ass ever - you never know). My best option seemed to be Jim.
“Hi Jim, this is Konka. LOL. I’d love to meet. It’s about time I meet an honest guy and you seem down to Earth. Are you free to meet tomorrow around 9pm? There’s a lounge called the Diamond Club that’s close to my place. You know it?”
“I just checked and found the club on Yelp,” he replied an hour later. “So I have the address. Let’s meet tomorrow. I’ll be the guy with an IKEA shirt.” IKEA? I love that place. Half my furniture is from there. Does he really work there? Maybe Fully Datable was the site Roman talked it up to be.
I knew this place too well. Dia is at the counter, servicing not one but two lonely looking fucks. To my right is a table of 30 somethings, one of which caught my entrance and probably at this very moment has me inside his head saliva sucking his cock and performing what he can only imagine to be my first ever face fuck. What he doesn’t know is that at this very moment the thought of his thought is already starting to make me wet. Unfortunately for him I’m here to meet Jim, but I’ll be keeping the 30 year old face fucker in my back pocket in case Jim is a no show or turns out to be a creep.
And that’s when I see a bright blue IKEA shirt in the back of the room. As the man stands I see his full 5 foot 8 frame and slim but muscular arms and thighs.
“Jim?,” I say.
“Konka?” We both share a shy laugh. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m glad you found me here. Can I get you a drink?” He waves over Dia. Suddenly fear comes over me that Dia will announce I’m a regular here and ask me how many one night stands I’ve now had with men from her club. But as she takes our order she is the consummate professional.
“I hope you both enjoy my place. Simply call me if you need anything else,” she says in her motherly voice.
“Konka and I will definitely wave you over if we need anything,” Jim says.
I see Dia shoot me a glance and amused smile upon finding out my ‘name’ for this evening. “I’m sure you guys will have a great time tonight,” she says as she turns away and returns to her two sad, lonely customers at the bar.
“So, do you really work at IKEA?” I say.
“If you can keep a secret… yes I do. Is your name really Konka?” he says.
“If you can keep a secret… no,” I say with a smile. “But if this goes well I’ll make sure to tell you my real name.”
We both laugh and relax a little as we dive into a conversation about life, work, and relationships. I’m amazed to find he really does work at IKEA. He’s originally from Chicago and moved out to San Francisco a year ago to take on the position of the manager of the city’s IKEA. While I’ve been liberally fucking my brains out and letting life (well, except for the sex) pass me by, he’s conservative and has been sucked into his life in IKEA and hasn’t had the time or the energy to enjoy much leisure or, as he shyly admits, sexual pleasures.
I don’t reveal any of the history of Roman and I and how our split had driven me in search of nightly organic pleasure that only flesh can provide. I simply tell him I was in a committed relationship but have had nothing serious since then. After 30 minutes of conversation and a few cosmopolitans, I decide to ask him more about his job.
“So you know, I was excited when I discovered you work at IKEA. Almost all my furniture is from there,” I say. “Your hot dogs are also the best! Sorry to say this, especially to you, but I
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