I hosted again in Louisville last night, having discovered serendipitously on my last visit to town that Sunday nights are apparently neither remembered as the Sabbath nor kept holy among the man-fuckers in Louisville. The trip was reasonably successful, with seven loads and six men serviced.

Well - seven, sort of.

He was the third to come along. He hit me up on Sniffies, and at first he said he wished he could fuck me but he had no car (cue sound of violins), so I cut the conversation short. Not long after, he messaged back to say maybe he could get himself there.

Nice looking young guy, bit stoner-y, great legs. The first thing he says is, “I’ve been walking around all day, would you mind if I rinsed off in your shower?

Red Flag 🚩 #1

Sure, go ahead. I mean, some guys are funny about wanting to be garden-fresh for sex, and that’s fine.

He took a shower like he hadn’t washed in a week.

He comes back out and asks me to suck him to get him hard.

”I’m a grower,” he said, “but I’m a little high.”

Red Flag 🚩 #2

The oral isn’t working. He lies down for it. Still nothing. He asks if I have a cock ring; I lend him a neoprene one. Still no wood. He wants to know if my ass is loose enough to take a soft cock (! !!) because he might get hard that way. N-ope.

At last, he figures it mist have something to do with all the G he did before he came, apologized, flopped down on the bed and asked if he could charge his phone on my charging cable.

Red Flag 🚩 #3

I don’t want this limp-dicked, patially-G-hawed dude hanging around my hotel room, regardless of how clean he is (and he damn well better be since he used all the towels) for who knows how long to charge his phone.

But I have a solution: I have an extra portable power supply, one of the small cylinder-shaped ones, fully charged, and I tell him he can have it since it works with his cable. At that point my daughter calls unexpectedly and I tell the guy I have to take the call. He says, somewhat reluctantly, “I guess you’d like me to leave, then.”

Red Flag 🚩 #4

“If you don’t mind.” He walks out, then back in again, seeming to look atound for something, and I herd him back out the door.

About an hour later, he messages me again on Sniffies, wondering if I could do him a big favor. The truth is, he’s just gotten out of jail and rehab and detox, and has nowhere to go to sleep and hasn’t slept in several days, and could I help him out with a room to sleep in for the night?

God. damn. It.

If you read my first blog entry about no good deed going unpunished, you will not fail to see certain parallels here. I did, by God, and told him that the last time I did something like that it went very, very badly, and I was not putting myself in the same position again.

He said he understood, but could he charge his phone because the portable charger was almost out of power. ! !!

”You have to plug the charger in to power it back up. It’s like a rechargeable battery.”

He said he understood. In a minute:

”What about if I got the room in my name?”

”I cannot afford to get you a hotel room. Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

At least he didn’t call me an asshole.

Oh, and by the way, remember my No Good Deed Vol. 2 entry about the guy who fucked me then stole my dildo? The guy after this guy fucked me then stole my poppers.

History doesn’t repeat itself so much as sodomizes you repeatedly up the cunt with a cactus. But only if you do something nice.