Flakes are universal, along with fakes and catfish 
. This I know.
But when it comes to superstar flaking out, New Hampshire takes the fucking cake. In fact, my visit to Concord might take the bakery.
Allow me to explain.
I always post future destinations in my travel plans on my BarebackRT.com profile . I notify readers here that I’m visiting. Of course, all this is tweeted 
and ends up on my Facebook .
To enhance it all further, I post on Craigslist an add that looks something like the following:
TOP blogger visiting looking for bottom writing inspiration – m4m (Concord Area)
I’m a blogger who writes about my sexual experiences on the road with bottoms I encounter… My blog is read by thousands every single day, reproduced on several sites and even some entries end up on a famous porn studio’s website.
Perhaps you might like to be the inspiration for a piece when I slide into town next week?
I don’t identify the bottoms I fuck, just write about the experience…
Hit me up with your info — a pic, stats, etc. I’ll respond with my blog details so you can check it out. We’ll go from there.
The site contains a lot of information beyond my fucks. And if you happen to be a top, we can tag team or maybe you’d like to try sitting on my cock… it’s a perfect 7 inches cut.
Thanks!
P.S. The only major requirement (other than bottoming for me) is that you don’t smoke.
From all this, I do get a lot of inquiries. Most of them are lurkers who never intend to meet. This I get. It’s also an opportunity to find new people to read my blog since not all barebackers have found the Bareback Brotherhood or my blog.
With many there’s the “I just fuck safe,” and then more than half switch their story. But some don’t. Yet, with my blog, it becomes a jerk-off destination for many.
When I do finally arrive, I e-mail the best back to see if they’re still up for that fuck.
Arriving in Concord
My arrival in Concord allowed me to long in locally to BarebackRT.com, Grindr, Scruff and Manhunt.net, all of which use a geographic tool to notify one who’s closest. I also posted to Craigslist.
Two men of the many interested e-mailed me back saying they were still up for the fuck, but one 4 p.m. pump-and-dump session became a no-show with regrets arriving several hours later because he was “stuck somewhere.”
Flake.
All of my online activity netted me a lot of interest. A lot. I was fresh meat in a town that didn’t see a lot. Of course, I got the usuals…
People just wanting to collect photos, see my cock or face.
I had one prospect on BarebackRT… he was a fucking hot dude in his late twenties… seemed like a good one. But here’s where we begin one issue that baffled me for Concord.
He had no vehicle.
I needed to come to him and pick him up, bring him back to my hotel to fuck and then take him home.
Now please check out the map.
Concord is not a major city. It’s 1½ hours north of Boston. It’s not a walking city. How can you not have a car and survive, especially when you’re not in college?
This turned into a theme of the night. No car. No transportation. My car is in the shop. My car is in the shop due to the storm. I don’t have a car.
By the way, none of these bottoms ever asked where I was staying to see if I happened to be within walking distance.
I don’t guess Northeastern tops teach bottoms they’re the ones who need to make the effort 
.
While some of them were hot enough for me to go and fetch them, it turns out I didn’t rent the car but a colleague did. I simply wasn’t an option.
Then came the other morons.
I also get a collection of those who want to postpone. These guys appear in every city, without fail. I wonder if they ever fuck. All conversations go something like this.
THEM: “How long you in town?”
ME: Just tonight (no matter how long I’m in town, I always say I’m here “just tonight”)
THEM: “Damn! It’s getting late tonight.”
ME: It’s just 9:30.
THEM: “I know but I have to get up early. I wish you were here…” fill in the blank with “tomorrow night” or “this weekend”
In other words, they can never come over now or today.
Proximity Alert
My first promising opportunity looked like a threesome, which I won’t get into too much detail on. In his early thirties and a scruffy blond, wanted to know if I wanted to fuck both him and another guy, in his early twenties — both online at the same time. As if on cue, the younger one sends me a message.
The younger one asks if I’ve got poppers, which of course I do.
Then he asks if I’ve got anything “more fun.”
WTF.
“Dude,” I respond back. “You’re well aware I’ve come into town. That means I flew. That means I went through security. At an airport. Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I have any drugs?”
He responds, “Oh yea, I guess you’re right. But I still want to fuck.”
Anyway, the vibe is off and the duo then go even more weird. The young one claims the old one is stalking him. The old one claims they’re “together.”
I don’t want to get into the shit. Kick them both to the curb.
Right Downstairs
One last opportunity happens as a guy indicates he’s in a hotel. I ask which one and it turns out he’s in the same one as I am.
Bingo.
He won’t disclose his room, so I give him mine, knowing my colleague isn’t on that floor. He tells me he needs 10 minutes to shower and get cleaned up.
Those 10 minutes pass. Then another 10. Another 10. Yet another 10. And at 45 minutes, I finally message him.
He apologizes, saying it’s taking him longer than he thought to clean out his ass.
Whatever, I say, just get his ass to my room.
Then he says come to his.
I tell him I don’t have his room number.
He says okay, he’s now putting on his clothes.
At an hour after we started this exchange, he says he’s on his way.
Then I get a text asking me if I’ll suck his dick too.
I’m baffled. I just ask, “What?”
Then he writes, “I need to run by the front desk real quick.”
Fuck that.
This fucker is just playing me.
“Forget it.”
He gets all bent out of shape. Says he won’t go by the front desk. Blah blah blah.
After some back and forth, I say he can some to my room, but he has three minutes to get there.
He says he doesn’t like my attitude.
I tell him to fuck off.
The next morning, he begs me to come to his room to fuck him.
I tell him I’m not disturbing guests actually staying in the hotel.
Postscript
Perhaps the little fucker actually was staying in the hotel or maybe he was one of the guys I’d e-mailed earlier and said I was in town and knew the hotel from that. I’ll never know. I’m proud I never knocked on anyone’s door. That shit pisses me off. He probably kept delaying things to try and get someone else to come over and knock on my door but, like me, couldn’t find anyone to do it.
My luck is your luck, fucker.
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