The Match
February 4, 2024. Sunday. 11:00 PM.
Tinder, Raf? Really? I mutter to myself. Why not Grindr if you’re just hunting for a hookup?”
I've just finished my first week as a junior associate at Carranza Libres and Associates. Getting some sleep to prepare for the week ahead is the most rational thing to do at this time, but boredom is getting the better of me — it makes my mind wander. I am not required to be present at the office at a specific time, but like every newly hired employee, I need to be the first person there.
Of course, like every other normal person, I don’t go to sleep early on Sundays. Instead, here I am sprawling on my bed, swiping left and right at random profiles on Tinder. I could swear I’ve nearly hit my daily swipe limit, when one profile stops me in my tracks: faceless, just a photo of a shirtless man exposing his muscular chest and chiseled abs, almost absurdly perfect. Surely, he stole the photo from the Internet. A physique I’m usually totally into, to be honest. But surprisingly this time, it doesn’t do anything for me.
Normally, I just ignore faceless profiles on Tinder. There are plenty of those on Grindr already. Something about swiping right on faceless torsos feels like a gamble. But this one… I don’t know why. I feel like it’s worth it.
Without overthinking, I swipe right. And just a few seconds after, the app bursts with the notification: It’s a match! I barely even look at it, shrug, and swipe more.
Then my phone buzzes. “Hey!”
“Hey”, I reply flatly.
“Call me A,” he writes.
“I’m Raf”, I respond, brushing off the fact that this guy is so weird and secretive he wants me to call him by the first letter of the alphabet.
“Where are you from? I’m from Labangon,” he adds.
“Balamban”
“I’m 23 years old, bro. You?”
“26.” A rare instance when I’ve been honest about my age.
Certainly, I have no expectations whatsoever of getting anything out of this conversation with a faceless stranger. The reason I chose to waste my time on Tinder is to get rid of the usual shit of trading photos only to end up with nothing, yet here we are having the usual small talk — the same old tired superficial stuff.
But there is something about this guy that intrigues me, a pull I couldn’t explain. I’m surprised how I don’t even mind if this turns out to be a waste of my time more than it already is.
Then he suddenly asks, “Do you have Telegram?”
Before I even think about it, I send him my account: @LikeitRaf. I don’t know why I’m so quick to give it without second-guessing. And honestly… why do I still use that username?
Almost instantly, a Telegram notification pops up, someone with the username “A” with an eggplant emoji, just added me. It has to be him. Maybe his name starts with the letter A. I mean, what else could it be? And I won’t even pretend like the eggplant is strategically included there to mean it’s his favorite vegetable.
My phone rings. A video call suddenly comes through. This guy wastes no time.
I quickly sit up, lean my back against the headboard, and glance restlessly at my reflection on my phone screen to adjust my expression.
Where are my AirPods? Shit!
I rummage through my bag which is lying flat on the floor at the right side of the bed, grab my AirPods, yank them out of its charger, and shove them in my ears. I wouldn’t want anyone to hear me even though it’s just me here in my apartment. I freeze for a second, thumb hovering over my phone screen…then I press accept. My heart rate is racing as I wait for him to appear.
His face fills the screen and I find my mouth open in awe. What the fuck? Is this guy for real?
I can already say — even just through a phone screen — that he’s got a handsome face. And he is very hot. Damn! He’s got thick eyebrows, sharp eyes, and a strong jaw softened by the faintest hint of a smile, like he’s amused by what he sees, but not trying too hard. Half-naked. Of course, he’s half-naked. The lower portion of the phone screen is filled with the view of his chest — broad, sculpted, firm. I couldn’t help but to straighten my own posture as my chest rises and falls in uneven breaths and a feverish intensity leaves my throat dry.
“Hello, bro,” he finally speaks. His voice is so deep, low, and sexy I couldn’t help myself but whisper, half in disbelief, half in awe: “Thank God I swiped right…”
“I’m horny. You?” he says without hesitation.
I’m speechless. And yeah… I’m definitely feeling the same, especially after seeing what he looks like, but I can’t seem to form any words to say.
“Can you show your body too?” he adds, calm and effortless it plunges a shiver through me, a jolt of panic and heat twisting together.
“Wait!” I tell him. Then I quickly set my phone, gently place it on the bedside table just on my left, angling it to show my full upper body. I pull my t-shirt over my head, a little awkwardly, like I have never ever taken off a t-shirt before in my life. My nerves buzzing with anticipation as I wait for his reaction.
“You’re so hot!” he says.
Believing what he just said is just as hard as comprehending the fact that I am talking to him right now. That I am even talking to a real person. “You too!” I tell him. Not because I am being polite and would like to return the compliment but because it’s true. Too good to be true.
Even from this tiny screen, I could see the hunger in his eyes, the way the movements of his other hand has already become urgent. He slowly lowers his camera, letting it drift past his abs — six solid planes I could count. I catch sight of his other hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it up and down, in a slow, teasing rhythm. My mouth is half open, eyes glued to my phone screen, and my right hand also wrapping my cock, imitating him.
His whimpers and grunts echo inside my eardrums — hard, desperate, and full of need. Each sound he makes hits me like electricity, making my chest tighten. My whole body increases in temperature.
“Fuck!” he gasps.
Just that one word — low and rough in his deep voice — surges more blood straight into my cock, now fully erect. I couldn’t help myself. I shift my phone so it captures my entire bed, I lie back flat, and join him. He smiles sheepishly, like the idea to join him was his and I only read his mind. We jerk off, mirroring each other, hands sliding our rock-hard dicks up and down.
“Shit… You’re so sexy!” he whispers.
“I want to suck you. Fuck!” The words blurt out from my mouth before I could even stop them. But hearing those words from me only seems to make him even harder, makes him even more riled up.
“Shit…Yes, please. Suck me!” he begs.
We keep going, our breaths ragged, completely lost in the moment. The world outside doesn’t exist anymore; only the phone screen is what we have.
“I’m close. Ugh!” he moans.
“Me too… Let’s cum together?” I gasp as I’m literally running out of breath.
He brings his hardened cock up to the screen. I follow. My hand moves faster, instinctively reacting to his, following the rhythm I could feel even through the glow of pixels. Holding myself back is no longer an option; the sight of his throbbing dick dripping with pre-come unravels the last of my restraint.
Lost in the sound of each other’s moans, we continue to stroke our cock, and when unable to edge any longer… we ejaculate… letting ourselves go, giving in completely and releasing our loads — unaware of who came first.
“Fuck. That felt so good. Shit!” he groans.
His milky, white, opalescent release spreads out unevenly on his smooth chest, to the left side of his neck — glistening. I could only wish I’m right beside him at this very moment to lick off all of his warm come and swallow them leaving no trace on his body.
“Thank you,” he says. But there is a hint of something else in his voice — not satisfaction, maybe emptiness.
“Thanks. That was…fun,” is all I can manage to reply, my heart still pounding.
And just like that, he ends the call. The screen of my phone goes dark, and the room feels suddenly empty. He goes offline and I’m left here wondering if I’d ever hear from him again. He could block me the moment he got the chance.
