It was a slow night. Nobody was biting. He should still be riding high from his last conquest, but it'd been weeks and he was jonesing. Ready for one more. He tried to score with some easy trade on the street, but the trick recognized him. So he did what he had to do and moved on.
11 PM. Nobody was biting. Correction: nobody that was his type. All the muscle dudes that tried to talk to him got the brush off. All the old uglies got the cold shoulder. He wanted young or at least youthful. He wanted skinny and pretty. He wanted vulnerable. He wanted someone who wouldn't fight back.
He thought about changing his picture, but it'd worked before. Fucking faggots were so fucking predictable. A bulging chest with a little fur and they're throwing themselves at him.
Except tonight. Nobody was biting.
Midnight. The fucking drunk in the next room was beating his old lady against the wall. Whatever, not his problem. He needed to get his fix. And just like that, a message chirped from his Grindr.
"Hey," messaged the slight little twinky boy.
"Sup."
"Got any face pix?"
"For trade."
"K."
When he received twink's pic, a slow smile crept upon his face. He was perfect.
"Cute," said twink when he'd received JacksonMaxium's pic.
"thx," he messaged back, ready to reel him in.
"I'm Alex, BTW"
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