I’m the Only Him I Need

Jordan enjoyed his affair with himself. On Twitter he called it post-selfie meta sexting. Doing sensual, erotic and or sexual things by himself to himself with himself in photos, videos and elaborate scenarios stored in and accessible from the cloud. Viewable on his phone, tablet or laptop at whim anywhere anytime anyplace. Fucking with all kinks and torques known. Pleasuring the self in order to please the self. Commentary on the human need for connective interactions. On our ability to be in ourselves. On our narcissism in full bloom. Sometimes shared in order to exercise exhibitionism, voyeurism and autagonistophilia. He often asked his friends, “How has your technology substituted we and us?”

Darius did not understand. “What does that even mean? That sounds like you’re trying to make something dumb sound smart.”

“Think about it, Dar.” Jordan snatched Darius’ iPhone6 Plus out of his hand. Shaking it in the narrow space between them, Jordan continued, “I haven’t seen you in three weeks. Yet with this,…” He pointed at the phone. “We communicate every day.”

“You send me pics of your junk every day.” Darius took back his phone. He made mental note to sanitize it when he returned home.

“You mad?”

“Only half of them are as funny as you’d like them all to be.”

Jordan laughed, tossing his head and rolling his shoulders, like a mad puppet. “You’re still saving the good ones.” He pointed at his crotch. “I have a pretty big pretty dick.” He thought of the photo he had taken in Darius’ bedroom before they left, his erect cock perched atop the alarm clock on the bedside table with a retainer dangling from his pink purple glans. The image of Darius inserting the retainer that night. He adjusted his swelling down leg.

Darius motioned for Jordan to follow, and they continued up the sidewalk, en route to lunch at Krog Market. Darius wanted spicy dumplings and a large cup of black coffee. Jordan wanted to wet and caress his ass crack in view of the mirror in the mensroom. Similar to last Saturday. Minus the security guard interrupting without interest in participating. Then, he might enjoy some ice cream from Jeni’s. He had discarded his abs in favor of vice. A liberating side effect of his affair. The turn ons all resided in his head.

“What are you doing” Darius asked as Jordan queued up his most recent naked selfie. The DO NOT WALK light counted down from 20.

“Learning new ways to love myself.” He swiped the photo away. A close up of his ass hole appeared, followed by a screen cap of group sexts he had written between his three numbers.

“Is that technology substituting for you?” Darius met Jordan when khakis were not just for work or normcore, when two guys met for drinks at a bar where everyone smoked and joked about the AOL chat trolls. “Or him?” Darius cocked an eyebrow and grinned. He worried about Jordan’s more interior tendencies.

Jordan lowered his phone and glared. “What him?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m the only him I need.”

“Nice slogan.”

It was. As they crossed the street, Jordan made it his first tweet of the day, attaching a hi-res close up of his meatus drooling cloudy grey semen into and beyond the strategically cropped frame.

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