You said on your profile, you didn't like scat.

You said on your profile, you would never meet anyone in real life.

You said on your profile, that you didn't even like guys.... Yet here we are.

I thought it was so strange, when I was in the General Chatroom and you sent me a message, wanting to talk. Your profile was so vanilla, I thought that maybe you'd opened a chat with me by mistake but it quickly became evident that it was no mistake.

At first you just bombarded me with questions: Why do you like this? What makes this sexy when most think it's gross? How can you do that to a woman, do you hate them?

And so it went, for a couple of hours, you questioned me and I nearly closed the chat window several times during that first conversation but by the end of it, I was glad that I didn't. I felt like explaining my kinks to you, in some way gave me a better understanding of why I liked them in the first place and in a way it made me feel more comfortable with them than I ever had before.

A week or so later, I was really happy to see a message from you, in my inbox. It was more of the same but more nuanced this time. "What would happen if the woman liked this thing but not something else?" "Would you enjoy doing this instead, if they did this thing you like, at the same time?" Stuff like that.

I kept replying, as best I could and our exchanges quickly became daily events that I'd look forward to, sometimes we even exchanged messages several times a day about things in our lives which were completely non-sexual but by this point I truly enjoyed hearing about your life and wanted to share what was happening in mine, no matter how inane it was. Then, about six weeks after that first conversation, you sent a message with four little words that were so completely unexpected, I spent several hours contemplating them. The message said simply, "I want to meet."

I replied later that day, saying that I felt the same and we exchanged Facebook details as a way to verify we were "real" but I think by this point, we knew each other well enough that this was just a formality.

We met a week later, on a sunny, Friday afternoon, in late May.  You met me at the train station cafe and it was obvious by the state of your table that you'd been waiting for a while, despite knowing when I'd arrive. It's difficult to explain but when we finally saw each other and we stood together in a warm embrace for the first time, I felt like an unknown weight of a lifetimes anxiety suddenly drained from me. I think you must have felt something too because after we uncoupled after what seemed like several minutes, I could see such a warm and contented look on your face, shining though wet, smiling eyes, it said more than words ever could. We hugged again, almost immediately and after we let go, our hands slipped into one anothers and we proceeded to walk together, through the sunny streets, barely speaking a word, just smiling and holding onto each other, until somehow, we were stood in front of a door and you had to let go of my hand so you could let us into your home.

Now, only a few minutes later, we haven't even kissed one another, yet here we are, with you lay on the floor of your bathroom, mouth open, tongue out and I'm crouched over your face, letting out a deep, guttural groan as I slowly open up my ass and prepare to let out a long, fat, piece of shit, straight into your hungry, waiting mouth.