Cruising… But Not Really on HotGuySecret
So, this ‘story’ may be all over the damn place, but please forgive me as this is basically like a rant cause it’s a true-ish story and I’ve never written one before xx
TW: BDD, SA, Abuse
Just some background info probably not all needed:
I had been thinking about it for some time now. I wanted better for myself. I wanted to look in the mirror and think “you’re so fuckable” instead of “you’re a cow”. I knew it was possible because I was once in ‘great’ shape. Well, in 2019, I looked like a skeleton… that’s malnourished, weighing a very healthy 40 kg. Then because of the pandemic in 2020, I put on a bit of weight and by the end of the year, I looked really good and was at a healthy weight, about 50 something kgs. Oh, but wait.
What’s that? The pandemic isn’t over? We’re staying indoors, again? Oh, great, more imprisonment – yay! Unfortunately, because I was a lazy bitch and fighting for my life with university academics and my mental health, of course (!) I put on more weight throughout the year. And by the end of 2021, I was officially at ‘moo bitch’ status. My only competition was the whales. I tried not to break the scale, weighing a very lovely 75 kg. Now, you might be thinking that’s not bad at all. But it is – at least for me and my community that has ridiculously high standards, which I HAD to maintain and keep or else I felt useless, ugly, and un-fuckable. I mean considering my ‘average’ (yes short as fuck) height of 165cm, my BMI said I’m overweight! Luckily though, the next year we were allowed to return to campus. See, the campus was actually my gym. I would eat anything and everything, yet I was a good ol’ twink. And that’s cause I used to walk a lot on campus; like averaging at least 10 000 steps a day; climbing 9 – 16 flights of stairs nearly daily; have physically demanding classes daily and all that fun! And yeah, I know being skinny doesn’t necessarily mean being healthy, but idc. So, when Ms Corona did her world tour, I stopped being active, completely.
After spending 2 years at home being the literal definition of a couch potato and also probably being an obesity statistic; I was finally back on campus – my gym! And of course, it was also great to see my besties daily, and you know, have contact school again as it’s my last year of uni :(. Damn, 2 years of vital experience down the drain, just like that. But anyway, I managed to clock in at 55 kgs by the end of 2022. This was my ideal weight. And I looked good cause I was not giving kwashiorkor-chic nor hippopotamus-core. I was serving a mixture of the two; what some might call skinny-fat – but like less belly fat because that was really my problem area. My thighs and ass could’ve been ‘big’, but I wanted a flat (ish) stomach, okay?! And that’s what I had. Oh, I also grew like 3cm since the last time I was on campus (extreme late bloomer much?) and now my toxic-ass bestie BMI said I’m at a normal weight! Pizza and McD on me hoes!
Uhm, but there seems to be a pattern cause now schools out, actually over because I literally graduated with an honour’s degree (not so humble brag) and guess what? Yes, I am unemployed! But that was not my original guess question for you. Sooo? Guess what… again?! YES, I GAINED WEIGHT… aFUCKINGgain! It’s more than halfway into the year, and I have managed to gain a modest 5 kg. But it’s most likely way more because I don’t trust my scale at all! So, I probably eight about 60-something kg’s right now. I don’t know why I don’t learn my lesson because by now, surely, I should know that I need to be active af to maintain my twunk without the muscle status?? So yEt aGAiN – it’s operation ‘lose some fat you fat cunt’ time. I decided to start doing some daily walks because I think (definitely know) it will be the easiest exercise to do consistently, as I am lazy.
But finally – coming to the whole reason why I wrote this story:
The Present Day: Monday, August 14, 2023
On the first day of my journey to lose 10kg’s, which would make me underweight according to my fav bestie’s BMI (why do I still use this shit), I decided to wake up in the morning (a VERY rare occurrence for me), did my bed, brushed my teeth for 20ish minutes as I usually do (I have braces, sigh), washed my face, moisturized it and put a ton of sunscreen, got dressed in my Adidas tracksuit and sneakers, put on a bucket hat, curated a ‘walking’ playlist and then I hit the road – or rather the golf cart routes in the country estate I live in. My goal was to get at least 10 000 steps a day. So, I hit the road and I was about 2000 and something steps in, thoroughly enjoying the walk.
Then quickly, that enjoyment became terror. From a distance, I saw some of the estate groundsmen and I started to feel anxious cause you know… men. It was about 7 men gathered in a group and I contemplated exactly 1 598 293 times whether I should greet them or just walk past or pretend I’m on a phone call or turn back and change course or or or. “Greet them so they don’t kill you – but they’ll think I am interested in them and will SA me” OR “Don’t greet them and they will SA AND kill you,” I thought (fun times we live in). Now you might be wondering why I would fear a group of men. Well first of all – they are men… in a group… and I am androgynous (I think), so I do not look like a boy… at all (at least to MANY people). I am VERY femme presenting and passing #blessedbutwhatcost. So, I pretended to be listening to my music, fake lip-syncing some random song and passed them, lifting my hand to wave at the one guy who was eyeing me ever since I saw him a few meters back. “Whew”. I passed them without any problems. Btw, did I mention some construction workers were catcalling me from an unfinished balcony a few houses back from where the groundsmen were? Yeah, you see… men.
Anyway, I continued my walk and I check my iPhone again to see that I have only walked 4000 and something steps. That’s too low. “Damn, now what”, it really felt like I walked forever. So, I decided to walk back home, take a shit, grab a bottle of water and head out again to complete my walk goal, but in a different direction and a different route.
About 6000 and something steps in, I come across a guy. I can see him coming from a distance and he looks about my age or slightly older. “Great, more people to give me anxiety”. As we approach each other and he gets nearer, I can see that he’s quite cute, oop, very attractive actually… ‘blushes but doesn’t show it’. He’s a pale white guy, about 180cm tall, athletic build, dirty blonde hair in a buzzcut (okay young Channing Tatum dupe), ocean blue eyes, thicker than usual natural pink lips; and he’s wearing a maroon Ralph Lauren golf t-shirt tucked in 5-inch tight khaki shorts, white calf-length socks, and off-white Nike sneakers. I tried not to be too obvious that I found him hot and make too much eye contact as he was approaching me and I approaching him. I could tell he was doing the same thing, trying to be subtle but wanting to stare some glances at me. He acknowledged me by nodding, and I do the same by fake smiling. As I observe him and his outfit, my eyes couldn’t help but stare at the protrusion on his pants where the zipper is located. “Ohhh. m.g. Not his bugle being big”. I inspect it a bit more in detail, still trying not to be obvious (which I think I failed). I can see a faint outline of his cock and can make out that his mushroom head does not have a foreskin. Just like mine #cutdudesunite. I must admit, I am now starting to feel some blood rushing to my cock as I witness this beauty.
We eventually pass each other, only a few meters apart, and I wait for a few seconds before turning back to look at him, doing a double take; to see that he is carrying a huge fucken bubblebutt. Not only am I startled by his massive pooper as I was not expecting him to have a really nice, huge ass, but I am also startled cause he was looking at me the same time I was looking at him. I think we quickly both turned our heads to face the directions we were walking towards.
Fortunately for him, he also had quite the sight to stare at. I won’t lie, I am very attractive with my feminine-like features, thick black afro, milk chocolate skin, obviously average build, hazel eyes, luscious two-toned burnt pink lips; wearing my favourite long black Adidas track pants as they carved my voluptuous shitter too well, a cute white Micky Mouse t-shirt, a red and black Adidas jacket, a black Adidas bucket hat and navy blue Adidas trainers (yes, I am kind of obsessed with the brand). My body may not be in the best shape (for me it wasn’t but for many, it was more than great), but my face was stunning. I think it caught his attention the most. But his wandering eyes beg to differ. “What a man,” I say to myself as I continue walking, now starting to fantasize about our wedding day, but more importantly, wondering what type of underwear is between his plump cheeks and carrying his dick. 9000 and something steps into my exercise journey and it’s already midday. I began walking about 1 hour and something minutes ago and I must say I am feeling the burn because the golf course routes have slopes which add an intensity that’s much needed. I am also sweating but not too much, though, I can feel my black CK boxer briefs are wet and my pits moist.
“Stooop. What the fuck?” I say, cause from a distance, I see my husband. He appears to have stopped walking and it means that the routes lead back to the mini dam area where he’s sitting and where some old men are fishing, as most of the roads split to merge further down and vice versa. “He must be taking a break,” I say, seeing him sitting on one of the benches. I begin to have anxiety again as I walk closer and closer to him. I can see he hasn’t noticed me coming down his path yet. So, I wonder if I should turn back cause it will be too awkward if we bump into each other again. “But now I must go ALL the way back,” I say, too lazy to walk back as there’s a roundabout nearby, which has a shorter route back home. I know it leads back home cause there are signs all over the golf course, displaying the location of various street names.
I decide to walk and just go for it. I take out my iPhone, pretending that I’m texting someone, so I don’t have to make eye contact as I approach him. I also see that I have reached my goal of 10 000 steps! I am a few meters away from him and my heart starts beating ever so quickly, then suddenly, I look up to inspect the scene and then realise he is sitting on the side of the route I want to take to go back home. Lol… fuck. So, I make a rash decision to keep walking forward, taking the 2nd exit of the roundabout. With my head tilted down, eyes glued to my screen, earphones in my ear, not at all playing music; I confidently walk past my spouse who I know can see me even though I can’t see him looking at me.
“It’s a dead end” – a stern and deep voice suddenly startles me. I pause and look back – wondering who said that. I make eye contact with my love, and he says “That road leads nowhere, it’s a dead end” – he says smiling. “Oh” is all that I could muster, as I could not believe Mr Right is talking to me right now. I look ahead again, seeing that the road does not look like a dead end. “But it looks like it still carries on,” I say to my king, confused. “Don’t believe me?”, he says smirking. Gosh, what voice I never want him to shut up. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just wanna see for myself…” I say jokingly. “Okay then go ahead. Don’t fall into the dam though” he says. That stopped me right in my tracks. “Hahaha very funny,” I say, not convinced he’s telling the truth. I start walking again and my better half gets up and begins to follow me from behind. I stop to look back at him and he stops as well. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Nothing,” he says. I then walk again, and suddenly stop to look back at him, again, and he stops, again. “Okay seriously, what’s going on? Why are you following me, lol?” I ask him, again, a little worried now case you know… men. “I just want to watch you fall into the dam and then save you,” he says with a serious tone. “Uhmm okaaay,” I say very much confused. I am now slightly convinced my partner might be a serial killer. Ahead, I can see a field of bushes and long grass, looking like the actual end of the road, and a ‘WARNING: No persons allowed further beyond this area’ sign. Lmao he was right. “Hmm, looks like you were correct, sorry. Anywho, I’m going to go home now so I’m just gonna head back this way”, I say walking and passing him, trying to escape his cunning yet tantalising presence.
“Wait, sorry if this is forward but – are you a boy or a girl”, he asks nonchalantly. Really, in 2023 you still asking such questions? Bored. “What do you think I am?”, I ask without much enthusiasm. Listen, I’ve been asked that question ever since I began high school. So, I was used to it by now and it didn’t bother me as much as it used to. It used to bother me because you know, I was naïve about my sexuality and questioned a lot of things back then – even wondering whether I’m trans. It’s also just like SO MUCH harder to be a femme black gay guy.
“I think you’re beautiful”, he answers my question. I try to hide my smile, folding immediately. We then start to have a genuinely nice conversation about everything and anything for what seemed to be forever, but we actually only spoke for like 10 minutes. Even though I can tell he’s not that progressive regarding his ways of thinking, I can also tell he’s trying to be. I must say, I started seeing him as an actual person instead of pure fuck meat. Still near the bushes, barely concealed, we stop talking and the silence is loud af. He starts undressing me with his eyes. Whoops, looks like pure fuck meat guy is back cause I feel so violated yet in fucking heat with how his eyeing me. “What?”, I ask him, knowing very well what he wants. “Come closer”, he says softly. I obey my master and walk ever so slowly to him, standing just a few centimetres away. My head makes direct contact with his chest, and I look up to make contact with his eyes. “Close enough?”, I ask, wanting to really satisfy sir. “No”, he says, this time sterner. I take like 2 steps towards him, never breaking eye contact with him – his head looking down and mine looking up at his. We’re now so close to each other only a paper can slice through our lips; his nose so close to mine, we breathe each other’s air; and his eyes so close, I can see my reflection. Finally, he seals the deal and leans in to kiss me. A peck at first. Then he pulls away. I do the same, but my kiss is slightly more aggressive. We both moan. What the actual fuck is happening right now? You know when you’re drunk and don’t feel like anything is real, but you know it’s real cause you know you’re drunk, but can’t really process anything, and everything feels surreal, but like right now I’m also sober af? Yeah. That’s how I am feeling.
We start to slowly make out. Kissing each other like lovers – our lips and tongues like gears; perfectly aligning and syncing to a rhythm made by our lust for each other. The session escalates and becomes more passionate, wild, wet, sloppy, and loud. We aggressively kiss each other like our tongues are searching for something in each other’s mouths, constantly fighting for space in each other’s mouths. We stop momentarily, locking eyes again, and he says I must open my mouth. I obey my commander, and he spits into my mouth. I moan at the act, and treat his saliva like honey; enjoying, savouring then swallowing it before we go back to eating each other’s faces. By now, our hands had been exploring each other’s bodies. My hands kneading and fondling his big, firm, and round dumper; and his, holding my back, thrusting my crotch into his with every kiss. We are both fully erect now as he keeps thrusting me onto his penis – then with my left hand, I hold the back of his neck and with my right, I begin to massage his bulge. He does the same to me and we are stroking each other’s dicks through our pants, all while still tongue fucking each other.
He begins to unbutton and unzips his pants, making me feel a wet spot of precum. His cock feels very huge in my tiny hands. It must’ve been an impressive 7,5 inches – more than plenty to satisfy me. See, I am not a size queen. We finally break our kissing session and I look down at his crotch to see that he’s wearing grey MCE Creations underwear. Upon further inspection with my hands, I soon realise he’s wearing a thong! It was such a sight for sore eyes seeing this masc, fit and dom guy wearing undies that barely did their job of keeping everything in its place. And I am sure he felt the same way about me because I was wearing boxer briefs. Idk, I’d say that’s unexpected for a femme guy like me. Anyway, as I stroke his throbbing penis through his thong, he licks his long and thick middle finger, pulls my soaked undies down to expose my 6-inch dick, slapping my left cheek, which jiggles like jelly, and rubs the wet finger against my tight shithole. I can’t help but moan so loud, wanting more, not caring about anything else in the world, like the fact that we could get caught which made this whole encounter much more surreal!
He removes his finger from my anus and deeply inhales it, moans, and instructs me to suck it. I do so, making sure to carry on respecting my ruler. He deepthroats me with his finger and I slightly gag, as it was unexpected, but I love it and I taste so good. He then removes the finger from the back of my throat, covered in my saliva, and inserts it in my poophole. Thank gosh I took a shit earlier. I wince in pain that quickly becomes pleasure. He finger fucks me for a while, and I moan like a crazy bitch. He covers my mouth with his other hand, then says “Shhh baby girl, you’ll get us in trouble”, with a smirk. He stops fingering me and licks his finger like it was the tastiest thing on the planet. He then pulls down his thong, tugging it a bit as the string struggles to let go of his shitter. I LOVED seeing his sweaty ass gripping the thin fabric of his thong. With the wet parts of the thong being darker due to the sweat and precum, and the part that brushed against his turdhole all day had a very slight tan colour to it. I drop down to my knees like the good boy I am and smell it, beginning to leak precum. The smell of damp clean underwear yet engrossed with sweat, musk and feint skid marks is penetrating my nose. I have never smelled anything like this and wanted to smell it for the rest of my life. I taste the used thong, and immediately begins to leak again. I could not handle it anymore, wanting to motorboat his dumper. I crawl behind him, he squats like he’s about to take a shit, and I get to work. I open his globes and I am greeted with a waft of man musk and rank ass from a slightly hairy poophole. I begin to eat his booty like groceries, and he moans in pleasure, taking one of his hands and putting it at the back of my head, forcing it and me to go deeper.
“HEY! WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING THERE?!”, we hear a loud, stern, and angry voice shouting from a near distance. Startled af, the lustful trance we were in is broken by the estate security guard. We scramble trying to reconfigure as quickly as we can. He stands up, pulling his now dry thong back up, and his tight khaki shorts, quickly tucking in his shirt and I do the same. We head over to the fun breaker, and he asks what we were doing. “Just walking around the estate sir”, I say lying a bit too well. “Yes, we didn’t know this was the end of the route so we were just looking around to see where we should head next”, my man crush every day (lol who still uses that) says – also, lying a bit too well. “Be careful, if you guys went just a bit further, you’ll could’ve fallen into the dam! It’s concealed by the shrubs and bushes cause most of it is growing from the dam!”, he says angrily but worried, like a concerned parent. “We will, thank you sir” I say not believing we managed to narrowly escape that.
My night and shining armour and I walk back to the route that led us here, and we hysterically laugh; still not believing what the fuck happened. At a T-junction, I say my home is this way, pointing to the right, and he says he has to go the other way. We laugh one last time, then lock eyes again, almost awakening the animals we left near the dam in the bushes. “See you tomorrow”, my soulmate says. “Cool”, I say, trying not to express too much eagerness, as if playing hard to get isn’t useless right now. On my walk back home, I replay the encounter I just had 2 758 952 times. “The fuck”, was all I could say, smiling and beginning to get a boner again.