Ryan was a
late bloomer, and had been a virgin for forty years. Yeah, he’d heard all the
jokes and been called a loser more times than he could count and, after a while, he started to believe it. He binged and purged and
learned to suffocate his feelings with food. By the time he was forty, he’d
ballooned to almost four hundred pounds, and was miserable and completely
alone. He never imagined he’d have a normal life and sex scared the hell out of
him. Yeah, he loved his dick and played with it every day and, as time went on,
he began to imagine what it would be like to be a normal guy . . . a guy with
muscles and a flat stomach . . . a guy that could have any woman he
wanted.
When he
closed his eyes and jerked off, he'd imagine he was anybody else. He wasn’t Ryan the piece of shit
anymore . . . he was an Adonis or a famous actor or even the handsome guy he
saw on the bus on the way home. He could picture it all in his mind and, after
a while, began to wonder if maybe he was gay. Maybe he was fantasizing about
these men because he wanted them. Maybe that was why he was so terrified of sex.
He started
trolling Craigslist, searching for a hookup but nobody wanted a “chub” and the
endless emails were exhausting. He came close to meeting a guy a couple of
times, but it never happened. After the picture exchange it was always over because
they all wanted the hot guys. Desperate, he finally turned to other sites . . .
escorts.