This Wasn’t the Plan!

October 2015

It’s been three months since I graduated from university and, in that time, I have achieved exactly nothing. My parents will of course tell me it’s my own fault:

“You had plenty of opportunities to get some work experience and you didn’t bother.”

“This is what happens when you decide to leave everything to the last minute.”

Quite honestly, they’ve got a point. Instead of using the long summer breaks to seek out internships and use my time to expand my CV, I partied, travelled and partied some more. It’s only now, jobless and quickly running out of money, do I begin to regret that I hadn’t made some better, long-term decisions.

So, three months into being unemployed, I start the day the same way I always do. Get up, check my emails and start tediously filling in another application form for a job, any job, that will get me started in life. I was lucky enough that, following graduation, my parents agreed to pay six months worth of rent on a small in one of London’s suburbs.. Being close to the city was meant to make getting a job easier. Obviously that hasn’t been the case, but at least I can wallow in my own self-pity quietly and without being nagged.

As usual, by the time mid-afternoon came around, my motivation had seriously flagged. I mean, who wouldn’t after answering questions like: ‘Think of a time when you have used your leadership skills to turn around a bad situation’? For a 21 year-old guy, a drop in motivation and the onset of boredom probably results in one thing: a wank. Opening a new tab on my laptop, I pulled down my shorts and set to work on jerking one off. Grabbing my phone, I simultaneously scrolled through the myriad of men that announced themselves on Grindr. A guy with a well-chiseled six pack covered by a sprinkling of dark fur (yes please!), a slim but toned hunk confidently showing off his armpits in bed (who wouldn’t?) and a stubbled man in his early thirties who looked like he knew exactly what he wanted (definitely hot). But, by the time I had reached orgasm and covered my chest and stomach in a fair smattering of cum, my interest in messaging any of them for a ‘good time’ had quickly evaporated.

For the rest of that evening, as with most evenings before, I ended up slouched on the sofa mindlessly watching the same crap on TV, waiting to sleep, only to repeat the same process all over again tomorrow.

Before I go any further, let me tell you a bit about myself. The basics: 22 years old, 5’10”, brown hair and brown eyes. 

Throughout secondary school and university, I  always played some form of sport - mostly tennis, but over the past few months I’ve also taken up swimming. Combined with my twice-weekly visits to the gym, my body could best be described as ‘toned’ - slim, with a reasonable amount of muscle. A reasonable amount of body hair in all the right places helps the ‘twunk’ look. As such, I’ve never had any problems taking a guy home during a night out. It’s only when my underwear comes off does my body confidence…falter. My cock is small. And I don’t just mean slightly below average - I mean tiny. When soft, my cock measures no more than an inch. When hard, no more than two and a half.

As you can probably imagine, this never fails to be noticed by my one-night stands. I’ve had it all: the awkward look upwards as a guy gets to his knees to give me a blowjob; the brief exhale of air that represents a stifled laugh; to the comments which add to my humiliation - “not much going on down there!” Where a guy comes back expecting a good fuck from me, he usually leaves disappointed and unsatisfied.

This particular story begins on one of these nights - a regular trip to the club on a Friday night, picking up a guy, and coming back to my flat. Except, that this night ended very differently to all my previous experiences.