My Name Isn’t Hansel and I Don’t Follow Breadcrumbs

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I don’t know what the fucking deal is lately with bottoms. You want fucked? Then give me your address. I’m not on a scavenger hunt for ass.

A bottom I’ve been texting with for about a week finally had his home to himself yesterday and invited me to swing by after work. I let him know I was available. He then began to dole out a little piece of information to tell me where to go then, once there, I was to text him for the next destination. It was like I was going to some sort of money drop for a ransom demand.

Told him to forget it.

Another bottom of late offered to be ass-up and naked at his apartment. One would drive there then text from the front gate and, then and only then, would the dumb bottom release the code to get in. Following that, you’d get the apartment building and number.

Told him to forget it.

Yet another local has been trying to convince me he will “meet” at the front of his community rather than at his apartment. He’ll guide me to his apartment.

Told him to forget it.

I don’t mind men who have the balls to tell me they’re not into me. I mean, we’re not all into each other. But I’m not on some cruel wild good chase, following text messages all over the planet. Believe me, if you want to see someone who will get spiteful, just do that to me.

Where’s the balls?

My Name Isn't Hansel and I Don't Follow Breadcrumbs, 5.0 out of 5 based on 1 rating If you liked this, you also might like one of these...

One Comment on "My Name Isn’t Hansel and I Don’t Follow Breadcrumbs"

  1. Atlanta Bottom says:

    I have to manually go down and walk people in. Total pain in the ass, and not in a good way. I guess I would rather have a secure building than have people breaking in and raping me. Or would I? O_o

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