Uncharted Territory

A couple of years ago I got into the habit of wearing eyeliner and mascara every day. It wasn't that I was trying to look overly feminine or exploring a transgender identity - I liked how much better my eyes looked made up. I didn't notice until I started wearing eye makeup just how 'tired' my eyes looked au naturel. Some days I'd line my eyes with black eyeliner - guyliner - for an emo look, while other days, I'd use a white along the waterline and do a bit of highlighting in the inner corner. Those close to me - except for my mom - assured me that it looked good and that I was actually good at doing it, which, of course, encouraged me to do it daily. To top it off, my hair was shoulder length and permed; I was going for a Conan Gray Found Heaven kind of vibe.

I had updated all of my Grindr pictures to reflect my current style and had noticed how a simple aesthetic change could draw in guys that wouldn't normally give me the time of day; when I had my long, red beard, I attracted an entirely new tier of guys who liked how rugged and masculine it made me look. Given my predilection for straight/bi-curious guys, I was hoping that the hair and the makeup combined would help me bag a few more of my favorite kind of guy.

One afternoon before I had to go to work, I was messing around on Grindr when I got a message from a guy. His profile didn't have a picture, but it said that he was straight, looking to get head from a feminine guy. I decided to message him back, enticed by the forbidden fruit. He said that he thought I was beautiful, and although he kept referring to me as 'girl' I didn't correct him, since he seemed to really be into it. I knew that while my face and hair were feminine, my hairy body was anything but. We talked for a bit before he sent me a picture.

I had never hooked up with a black guy before. With the exception of Nick Cannon and Marlon and Shawn Wayans, I wasn't really attracted to black guys, which was strange because I found black women gorgeous. Some people might accuse me of being racist, but to me, it was a matter of preference; was I sexist because I wasn't sexually attracted to women? This guy was very attractive, with a toned, muscular body and a cock that I really wanted to wrap my lips around. He said that he was driving through my town and asked if I wanted him to stop by for some fun; I wasn't doing anything besides lying in bed and he was hot enough that I was willing to forsake my reading time for him, so I gave him my address. He asked me to have my hair and makeup done up, to be shaved - no stubble - and to leave the lights dim; I was more than happy to oblige.

I was just putting the finishing touches on my mascara when he messaged saying that he was outside. I gave my reflection one last look-over in the mirror before I tied my bathrobe tightly and padded over to my back door, my pulse quickening as nervousness set in. Would he take one look at me and run the other way? Would he be as attractive in person as he was in his pictures?

He was even cuter in person. I felt a flutter of delight in my chest when he smiled at me, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. I led him into the bedroom, climbing into the bed and looked at him nervously. I wasn't sure how to proceed: if he wanted me to just pull his dick out and start sucking it or if he wanted to make out and grope each other. As I peered up at him through my lashes, I could see how relaxed he was, how calm. I was jealous; my heart was thundering a mile a minute in my chest, my throat tight with anxiety.

The guy joined me on the bed, grinning as he ran a finger through my curls. He met my eye and laughed. "What?" he asked, his smile making my stomach flip excitedly.

"You're just really cute," I replied, lowering my head bashfully. I wanted to ask him how someone as gorgeous as him could want an ugly bitch like me, but I didn't want to make him uncomfortable or seem like I was fishing for compliments; he was here to get his dick sucked, not stroke my ego and build up my self-confidence.

Still shooting me that heart melting smile, he pulled his joggers down to reveal his beautiful black cock. It was smooth and shaved - just like I liked it, and while it was on the bigger side lengthwise, it wasn't monstrous, nor was it overly thick. Without another word, he lay back against the pillows, put his hands behind his head, and watched as I shifted so that I was lying on my stomach by his feet. I grabbed his semi-hard cock with my hand; my mouth was already watering in anticipation of slipping him inside.

His dick fit my mouth perfectly; I lapped up his salty precum, sucking him slowly at first, trying not to overstimulate him. I wasn't sure if he had ever gotten head from a guy before, but my favorite part of being a straight guy's first was introducing him to what head was supposed to feel like.

I swelled with pride when I heart his soft moans and was filled with elation once he started muttering, "Fuck. babe," and "Suck that dick, baby girl." I lapped up his praise like a cat with a bowl of milk; I knew that this would probably only be a one-time thing, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from enjoying it fully. Chances were that he wasn't even going to offer to return the favor, but it was okay; sucking dick was a form of stress-relief in itself for me - I didn't always need reciprocation.

As I worked my oral magic on him, my free hand reached up and explored the warm skin under his hoodie. He was as toned and muscular as his pictures had shown him to be. I felt a drop of precum leak out of my dick as I ran my fingers over his abs before working my way up to his hard pecs. God, this guy was so hot! Why couldn't he be gay?

It didn't take long until he was filling my mouth with his seed, squirming as I sucked every last drop out. After, I looked up at him, fully expecting his warm, open demeanor to be replaced by a cold, closed- off one; to my surprise, he was smiling at me again, looking as happy as could be - then again, what guy wouldn't be after I'd just drained him dry? I've always thought that one of the reasons that straight guys end up coming to me for head is because they can tell I enjoy sucking dick; I'm enthusiastic and am more than happy to do it for as long as it takes for the guy to nut whereas women usually don't like it and have to be cajoled into doing it.

"How was it?" I asked, adjusting my bathrobe again. Now that he had cum, I figured he wouldn't want to be reminded that I was definitely a man.

"It was good," he replied, beaming up at me. He caught me grinning like an idiot and asked again, "what?"

"You're just really cute," I replied, ducking my head. "I enjoy looking at you."

"I enjoy what you did with your mouth there." He chuckled, pulling his pants back up. "I hope we can do it again sometime."

"Yeah? You liked it that much?" As much as I hated to admit it, I was grinning like a fool, soaking up every ounce of his praise like a pathic loser.

"I did. And you're so pretty, too."

He reached out his hand; at first, I thought he was going to caress my cheek lovingly, but instead he ran his fingers through my curls again, grinning widely.

Before he left, we exchanged Snapchat usernames so that we could stay in touch. I wasn't sure why, but I was dizzy with delight, practically floating on air as I walked him out and then continued to get ready for work. I couldn't wait to tell my friends/coworkers about my little afternoon delight and how adorably cute he was. It wasn't often that I had anything of substance to share, since my life mostly revolved around my job and the goings on there; this would be a nice treat that I was dying to share.

We stayed in touch for a little bit via Snapchat. He was nice at first, but the more that I messaged him, the more monosyllabic he became. I didn't want him to think that I was in love with him or anything like that, but I was riding the high of getting to hook up with someone that I actually found attractive; it was a drug that I'd longed to try for years, though it constantly evaded me. I was willing to be available for him whenever he wanted me to be, as long as he was clean and kept bathing me with that thousand-watt smile.

It wasn't long until I went to snap him and noticed that he was completely gone. He had blocked me. My feelings were slightly hurt, but I also understood that I had probably come on way too strong, desperate for the rush of dopamine that I'd gotten from him last time; it hadn't necessarily been about him per se, but more about the way he'd made me feel. I probably should have conveyed that to him, but I hadn't wanted him to feel like he was being used, which was stupid, because he had been using me, fetishizing me. He hadn't wanted me for who I was, he had wanted me because I had long hair and wore makeup that further feminized my already feminine features. He was the type of guy to cruise Grindr looking for trans-women to fuck with because he wasn't secure enough to let a regular guy give him pleasure. I was guilty of indirectly lying, of allowing him to believe that I was trans so that I could get what I wanted from him; in the end, I guess we both behaved wrongly, but walked away getting what we had wanted from the encounter.

I still don't know what his name was. I haven't seen him on Grindr since, not that it matters. Sadly, I know myself far too well: if he messaged me again, I would swallow my pride and let him use me again - all for the thrill. If I was a stronger person, I'd tell him off or - better yet - ignore him. Ill-gained attention isn't the same as attention; while it feels the same in the moment, it eats at you like a cancer, leaving you wanting more and feeling hollow and empty. Too many times in my life I've allowed situations like that to repeat themselves because I felt like I would rather be used and get the attention than be alone and feel like I wasn't good enough.

In this new chapter of my life, I try to refrain from instant gratification - at least sex-wise - in favor for more meaningful encounters. I don't have to be dating a guy to get intimate with him, but I want something more long-term than a one-night stand, something like friends-with-benefits situation at the very least. I find that I'm more comfortable and open when I'm comfortable with the guy, which comes from familiarity. Ideally, I would love to have a long-term, monogamous relationship, but I'd be lying if I said that that would be easy for me; I've lived my life on my own terms for so long now that I'm not sure how malleable my lifestyle is to someone else's. My time with Terrence taught me that when I'm invested, I will come out of my shell, but the problem is I haven't allowed myself to be open or vulnerable since then, too afraid of getting hurt and disappointed again. It's much easier for me to pine after straight guys than it is for me to let someone in who could actually want me for me and could potentially want a long-term relationship with me.

I know that I make a lot of mistakes, that I stumble a lot, but I hope that as long as I keep questioning and remain determined to find the love that I've always longed for, I will be able to find it in the end, no matter how hard I have to look or work for it.