1
Asher
“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”—John Steinbeck, East of Eden
Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left…
The range of prospective suitors looking for a quick, no-strings intimate rendezvous was seemingly endless—but not necessarily desirable. Page after page of hokey profiles from men claiming to be interested in chatting and dating was certainly entertaining. Some used doctored celebrity photos for their bio pics, but it seemed the norm was to post their favorite body part. Abs, eyes, obviously photoshopped silhouettes…
How was this sexy?
I shifted the library light to lessen the glare on my cell. The change in illumination cast long shadows from my striped duvet to my desk on the opposite end of the room. I adjusted my glasses and froze at the sound of a door closing, glancing over my phone to be sure my bedroom door was locked. Yes, all systems were clear.
Of course, I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about. George, Holden, Tommy, and Topher weren’t in the habit of barging in unannounced and demanding to know what I was scrolling for, but a guilty conscience conjures mayhem at will. And I was guilty as heck…of being horny.
However, that wasn’t something I needed to advertise to my friends. We were all serious scientists navigating our final quarter of grad school with internships at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab and Cal Tech, not to mention connections with well-respected experts in aeronautic engineering. We were dedicated in our quest to manifest technical and scientific advancement to humanity so that we might better understand our place in the universe.
But I mentioned I was horny, correct?
Don’t judge. I wasn’t particularly proud of it myself, but I hadn’t been with an actual live human man in months. Too many months. My right hand and my dildo were overworked to the point of gasping. And now two of my four roommates had lovers, which meant that it wasn’t uncommon to overhear porny breathy sex noises emanating from their boudoirs. The average, libidinous gay man could only take so much before he cracked.
And no, I did not eavesdrop on my friends…I just had very good hearing.
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip as I listened to the sound of a toilet flushing and water running in the adjacent bathroom. When it was perfectly quiet again, I refocused on my phone and read through a few more profiles.
I’m 25 and very boyish. And most likely looking for a daddy. That was certainly not me.
I’m very versatile. Hmm.
I work out five times a week. I did not.
I’m hung like a horse. O-kay.
I love uniforms. Uh…maybe?
This wasn’t as clear-cut an endeavor as it had first seemed. How was I supposed to wade through this vague menu of possible candidates and choose one who was sexy, sane, and discreet? I’d never done this before, and I didn’t think my friends had either. I’d tried to hedge around the concept of hookups with Holden this morning, but I’d dropped the subject when I realized he thought I wanted to buy towel hooks from a hardware store.
So, here I was…an intrepid explorer on what was beginning to look like an improbable adventure.
I was about to log out of the app and delete my hastily-made profile when one caught my eye. The background was a generic blue, no photo, and his description read: 6’2”, athletic, twenty-six, not looking for a relationship. Promising for sure, but what really got me was his tag line at the bottom: Straight and curious. One time only. And best of all, he was 2.5 miles away.
I held my breath as I set my forefinger on my screen…and swiped right.
Nothing happened.
Was something supposed to happen? I stared at my cell, waiting for a sign. Wait. He had to choose me too. He might not have been impressed with my Star Wars lightsaber pic, but like him, I’d specifically stated that this was a one-time venture. And though I hadn’t gone into detail, the rest of me wasn’t so bad.
I was five eight and on the lean side with short blond hair, blue eyes, and glasses. I’d grudgingly listed that information, thinking it might be embarrassing if the person I swiped with expected a burly athlete. I’d be quite the disappointment, and my ego might not—
Match.
Oh. Wow.
He wanted to send me a message too. Okay.
I licked my lips nervously, staring at the message alert for what felt like twenty minutes before pressing the button.
Hi.
Well, that wasn’t so scary. I adjusted my glasses again and typed, Hello. How are you?
Horny. You?
Very much so. My cock pressed obscenely against the confines of my cotton Yoda PJs. I most assuredly had a huge wet spot on my boxer briefs too, but the short answer was…Yes.
Want to come over?
I’m interested, but your profile doesn’t tell me much. Do you have a photo of yourself?