Eric was a practiced hand. Each night after work, he sat on the couch for hours in nothing but socks and underwear and scrolled profiles on DateMaker. Any time a new match appeared in his inbox, the response was always the same: his standard opening line—Hey, hot stuff, you know you want this!—and a picture of his naked body with the head cropped out. He’d sent the same sentence so many times that his phone’s autocomplete had learned it, and all he had to do was tap the words on the screen. In a typical night, he’d send his dick pic to dozens of men and women, most of whom would never respond.
On the off chance that he did get a response, Eric immediately directed the conversation toward sex and was relentless in his pursuit of his quarry. The conversations usually ended with the match going silent, or more frequently blocking him, but that didn’t stop him from beating off with one hand and typing explicit things with the other. Every night, Eric continued his chase undeterred, widening his search radius and even installing an app to fool DateMaker’s location settings. Each new conversation filled him with the adrenaline of a new chase, and when he was inevitably blocked, he pouted.
Continue reading
