Recent phone sex acquisitions

This is Bjorn. He said he was originally from Scandinavia but for some reason is living in a Midwest red state. He did write in broken English to me, but that can be easily faked, as can this photo, which is so obviously not a Scandinavian boy and just look at that hair, so 1994. The grainy webcam quality of the image and the cheap pressboard in the background speaks of trailer-park faggotry and Fantastic Sam's two-dollah hair cut and the bitch said he was a top. He asked for my number so I gave him the phone number for the Tampa Police Department and told him to call in five minutes because I had to go get my dildo out of my older brother's bedroom and I also needed to do another bump. After about five minutes he started messaging me again and he was fire pissed. Said he was going to track me down and kill my muthfuckin faggot ass. I just LOLed at him a lot and then hit 'ignore.' I fucking hate Scandinavians.


Speaking of meth, while I was online someone from my hometown messaged me. Said he was high on meth and that his boyfriend was gone for a few days and even with his boyfriend there the dude doesn't get fucked enough and right now he just wanted a big fat dick in his hole. He sent me his photo and said he was the guy on the right. So we chatted a little bit. I said, 'you look like you like meth' and he took that as a compliment. He said he worked at the SuperAmerica near my apartment. So, let's meet up boy and I'll fuck your tight little boypussy I said and he was like, I'll bike down. We agreed to meet at this intersection at a bus stop beside a laundromat. I arrived early and sat across the street on this picnic tables outside a coffeeshop and I read a new age publication they distribute for free around town. I was reading about crystals when the dude shows up at the bus stop on his bike. He had brunette hair and was really scruffy. Maybe the photo was him from about four years ago but he looked like hell now. The meth had really carved holes in his face or maybe just the tears had eroded out his cheeks and the skin just hung on them like scruffy animal pelts. I got up and nonchalantly walked away. Now my friends and I go into SuperAmerica to buy cigarettes and they're all like, "which one is the methhead bottom boy" and I'll point to him behind the counter and say, "there's the bottom faggot." I was using a fake pic anyway so he never recognizes me.