(#MM #romance #erotic #kinkylace #chocolate #flirtyD/s)
Love and romance have eluded Jeffrey all his life. He still lives in his mother’s house, he hates his job as an accountant, and he’s never been in love. In desperation, he signs up as AchyHeart1945 for an online dating site. For three months, he enjoys late-night exchanges with a man using the screen name EyeCandy2933. What began as a way to ease Jeffrey’s aching, lonely heart erupts into a real-life sexual encounter when, on a whim, he invites his younger friend to join him in a one-night-only, no-string-attached, steamy hook-up. And EyeCandy2933 accepts. But online fantasies can easily devolve into disappointment when confronted with reality. Will that be the case on this Valentine’s Day?
Jeffrey has finally reached a point when he has to take a chance or go out of his mind. But when AchyHeart1945 finally meets EyeCandy2933, everything changes. For good or for bad is yet to be determined. Jeffrey may discover that love and romance at any age can be an amazing thing.
Friday night. It had been a long, exhausting week of not-so-happy surprises. I was desperate. I did this, perhaps selfishly, just for me.
I guess the devil had me by the balls when I sent off that message asking if he wanted to hook up in RL. That’s real life for those not in the know. I went full-out and revealed, in what felt like anonymous fashion, ’cause it was online and one can hide so easily behind a computer screen, my deepest, sexiest wet-dream fantasy. An online relationship can give you that kind of freedom. Makes you feel like you can just throw your fantasy out there, be someone you’re not. Be someone you want to be. I took my chances.
An email response from EyeCandy2933 told me I could have that fantasy. He wanted to give it to me. Sure, we’d been corresponding for several months now. Little flirtations, some pretty hot and sexy. Other times, late at night, we’d chat into the wee hours of the morning about anything and everything. The story of my life with relationships, I guess. I could ignore the email response he’d just sent me. I could ignore my yearnings. After all, I wasn’t the type to adventure out. I was a simple nerdy accountant who worked in a dusty little corner office with no windows. I was someone who didn’t have steamy, hot love affairs.
I thought about it for several days. There was something between us–EyeCandy2933 and me. We hadn’t just exchanged one-handed steamy explicit messages. We had actually “talked” about stuff that seemed to matter. So I took a chance, and almost gave myself a heart attack in the process.
I’ll be there.
I sent the message off, my heart pounding. What had I just done?
But just the thought of what awaited kept me hard and hurting for the last few days as I tried to steel myself for the mounting pressure of tax season as credits, debits, and deadlines pummeled at my brain. I needed to breathe, I needed space, I needed a fantasy even more than I needed oxygen.
I knew from our exchanges over the last three months–and I don’t mean explicit photos of his cock or mine–I knew EyeCandy2933 was literate, he knew how to spell, he could string his thoughts together in intelligent fashion. I knew his photo likely wasn’t a real image of himself, but it didn’t matter. I was certainly no prize. Online relationships weren’t always known for being truthful. But the way he represented himself in his emails, I found him very sexy. Word-sexy. My kind of guy sexy.
We exchanged thoughts on the most recent bestseller, on financial matters–cliffs and crises. We argued in friendly fashion. We agreed that the latest hot action flick left us lukewarm. We both liked yoga and hiking. He liked Spanish food; I liked American. He had his own apartment; I still lived with my elderly mother. He was finishing up a doctorate in Latin American studies; I was established in a job as a CPA and well into a somewhat mundane career that no longer satisfied in the way it once had. He liked dark chocolate; I like butterscotch.
In my bedroom at my mother’s house, late at night, when I was feeling my loneliest, I’d lock the door, stretch out on the twin-sized bed in my plaid boxers, a cold bottle of beer on the nightstand, and I’d flip open my laptop. Eyecandy2933 would be there waiting. I’d envision him sitting there on his bed–a big one. Tight bikini underwear that left nothing to the imagination, ripped bod–fuck it made me so hard thinking about what he might be like in RL. Even though I was a coward, he never failed me.
I couldn’t believe we were finally going to meet. Would he be disappointed? We’d never used the vidcam. I think we both wanted the fantasy of what might be waiting on the other side. Would I be disappointed, when we finally met in person?
Since Valentine’s Day to be exact–three days ago–the anticipation about meeting EyeCandy2933 was more stressful than knowing that my boss had just slimmed down his staff and informed us at a staff meeting that those of us left behind would have to pull our weight plus some. Translated, that meant stuffing forty-eight hours of work into twenty-four. This job was going to be the death of me. I hated it.
As my midnight hour drew closer, I kept thinking I should cancel. I glanced at the pile of paperwork on my desk that needed to be translated and transformed into tax advantages for our clients. I knew I wasn’t going to cancel. I definitely needed the fantasy.
John Smith and Douglas Jones. That’s the name the room was registered in. It was the type of hotel where the desk attendant didn’t ask questions. Not too sleazy, let’s just call them discreet. As long as the money wasn’t counterfeit, they could have cared less whose name was on the register.
On the night in question, my hand trembled as I slipped the key card into the door slot on the sixth floor of the Remington Hotel on West Main Street. Fuck! Red light. Try it again. Bzzzt! The story of my life. One more time. Three’s the charm, right? Green light meant go. Bells ringing. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Open Sesame. Stupid kid’s tale, as I entered my own Aladdin’s cave filled with what I hoped would be my personal jewel of exotic delight.