Sometimes, we over here at FAGATS get turned on by strangers in the night. Especially in dark alleys in New York. Usually the stranger is Fabrizio Moretti. Or Dolph Lundgren (we go in pieces!).
Until now. A friend on Craigslist gives a pithy, if honest, warning on missed connections on how this dream scenario could go awry:
You: Cute Guy, mid 30s, wearing a black wool cap, dark wool shirt and black slacks, nicely dressed.
Me: 26, in decent shape, jeans and dress shirt, walking through downtown in the early evening last night.
Remember? You waled up the street, and we made eye contact... as we got closer and closer my heart was fluttering, it one of those situations where I couldn't decide who makes the first move. I decided it would be me, but you jumped in right as I was about to speak. "Hey."
"Come With Me..."
And at this, we duck away into the alley behind the Terryaki place and I think to myself "Oh yes. Strange sex in an alley with a man who's name I'll never know."
I was hard immediately.
"Don't fucking move, faggot. Give me your wallet."
Actually, wait a minute, that's exactly how ours goes...