Sweet sweet young Dylan…

April 22, 2024

Every year at this time, I remember Dylan. A lovely young man of 26 (FUCK! 26!) whom I seduced after everyone had left my 56th birthday party at the Backdoor in Louisville. He let me lure him away from his friend, who was visibly disgusted, which made me giggle and laugh and giggle and laugh out loud. I remember Dylan smiling at me with the goofiest grin, and I saw I had him. I had him. I was amazed, but not really. I’m fun and fat and old, but way way fun.

After a short while, I dragged him out of the bar and put him in an Uber. It wasn’t hard. I wasn’t really dragging him. It didn’t take much coaxing. Back to the Henry Clay we went, where I gave him a blowjob which was interrupted by violent vomiting. I remember watching him in the bathroom (I was drunk, too) while he splashed my antique lace shower curtain with vomit. I laughed. I still laugh. Then I proceeded to follow him around the apartment with a plastic wastepaper basket. We finally slept and the next morning, we had some very brief sex.

“I always cum really fast after I’ve been drinking,” he said apologetically.

Oh goodness, did I not mind! It was truly truly the most memorable, the absolute best birthday EVER. I haven’t seen him since but we text periodically, always around my birthday. We texted this morning.