Real-life escapades: The Smoking Otter
Jonzu shares his story.
We met on the intersection of 106th and Amsterdam. Both in our Adidas track-pants and trainers and both with the first meet-up introductory jitters after the initial Grindr album exchange.
There was something different about this hookup or, better yet, "meet-up" than the typical pump-n-dump fare that I've become accustomed to here in the Big Apple.
I arrived home from a gruelling gym pump with nothing but man on the brain - thoughts of getting a pump down below overriding every other thought, making all attempts at being a productive member of society utterly futile.
I chugged my protein shake, lit a cigarette, and began the app chess game of finding the perfect conquest of the day.
Minutes turned into an hour and the existential realisation of both wasting time and obsessive compulsion quickly sank in.
I hear this from so many other boys - it’s when you’re not looking that suddenly everyone wants to jump on or in you. For some reason, when you are ready, DTF, and VERY willing, men often avoid you like a leper.
As the pursuit of hole or pole moved into innocuous multitasking while I browsed social media, checked email, and pretended to be an actual adult, I received a ping from a nearby hunky otter.
I clicked the hairy, topless, shredded profile with an introduction to an album. No "hey", no context, just the bod, the D, and the disconcertingly handsome, friendly face.
I responded with a "hey" and a fair-as-square album-share on my end.
His next question is what made this entire encounter somewhat unconventional - even by my porn-set standards. He replied to my "hey" with “smoke?”
Now, most times that can mean and lead to so many things - either fairly innocent or fairly destructive. To each his own - I’m personally not the PnP type but a joint or tobacco seems fairly demure. I also know that along the lines of the latter, it can be a turn-off for many guys.
I am a man of honesty - I refuse to lie about my American Spirit just to lie with a guy. If you don’t ask or mention, no reason to bring it up, I suppose. But if you do ask, I’ll tell the truth - partially.
I responded to the questionable question with “occasionally”.
“HOT!” came his reply.
This seemingly vanilla-looking hunk apparently had a smoking fetish - particularly with cigarettes. Thoughts of us rolling around on my black satin sheets, hot and heavy, while smoking a cigarette like some kind of film-noir scene felt ever so sexy. This seemed to be the perfect way to spend my afternoon.
As I was typing the cliché, “come over?”, the Grindr siren song of a message notification landed before I could hit send.
He wanted to meet outside, in the light of day - in actual reality. Now that’s just down right cruel and sociopathic.
Straight-up hookups allegedly are not his particular cup of tea as he is one of the cerebral types that prefers a more connected experience. BORING! But hey, with not much else happening for the day and my interest initially piqued, I figured why not?
At least I would get to meet a cute neighbour who could turn into a smoking buddy at the park. Plus, I planned to dazzle him with my personality and lure him back to my place.
We barely exchanged words - at least, I can’t even recall the first few, awkwardly murmured from my lips to break the ice. We kind of just stood there staring at each other for the first five minutes - lit cigarettes between our teeth, smoke dancing between us. We stood close, VERY close to each other, just staring, intensely.
Eventually, he said it. “Can we go back to your place?”
I cooly - yet internally shook - responded, “sure”.
The smoking otter gave me a time limit of five minutes at mine before he was to vanish without a trace. We were just continuing this intense non-sexual “meet-up” and NOT hooking up.
I unlocked the door to my dark NYC 1br and instantly our lips touched and hands explored. I suppose my place has this kind of effect on all the boys.
We raced past the kitchen and living-room and into my bedroom. Clothes flying while he lit another cigarette.
We passionately locked lips while shotgunning puffs of nicotine. I felt like Marlene Dietrich and honestly, this was more than enough to satiate my sexual hunger for the day.
He stuck true to the “no hookup” rule for the most part. I mean, no one entered the other from either cheeks. We just lay on my bed kissing and touching passionately, stroking ourselves, smoke in the air.
We climaxed simultaneously all over my chest, as he stood over me holding one of my American Spirits.
It was definitely NOT five minutes - more like 25 minutes.
He lay beside me as we shared a couple of minutes of afterglow. We talked about nothing, shared one last kiss, and just like that, he was gone.
I was left satisfied enough on both nicotine and men for a good while - well, at least about an hour.
