Troy's Experiences: The Man I Am Obsessed With (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

Author’s NoteThis one isn’t fiction, it’s a confessional. A story from my own life about a man I crossed paths with a while back. It’s messy, complicated, and definitely not the kind of situation most people would call ideal. But that’s part of why I wanted to share it. Writing these down feels like letting you peek into my private diary; the unfiltered, raw side of me, equal parts erotic and toxic.

Read it less like a fantasy and more like a glimpse into a real chapter of my life.

So, let me tell you about Malek. I first came across him about eight months ago on Reddit, and from that very first exchange, I knew he was going to leave an impression. He’s Arab, tall, with rich dark skin that seems to hold the light, a clean buzz cut, and a body that looks like it was built for temptation. His chest is broad and dusted with hair, the kind that just begs to be touched, his frame lean but strong, with faint lines of abs cutting across his stomach. Thick thighs that strain against his shorts. Shoulders that make you wonder what it would feel like to rest against them.

Malek is the kind of man who makes you stop mid-scroll, your breath catching for just a second, thinking to yourself; holy fuck, this one is different. Not just another face online, not just another body. There’s something about him that pulls you in and refuses to let go.We started talking, just small stuff at first, but it escalated fast. He had this confidence, this teasing energy that pulled me in. He’d tell me he was planning to visit my city in a few months, and normally that kind of “someday hookup” talk feels empty. But with him? I didn’t care. I was willing to wait. He even joked once, 'the longer the wait, the bigger the load'. And I believed him.Those months blurred into each other, a constant rhythm of texts, late-night chats, and endless exchanges of nudes and videos. Malek had a way of making even the smallest thing feel erotic. He’d send me clips fresh from a night out, still in those tight formal clothes that hugged his body just right, his tie hanging loose, his belt clinking as he unbuckled it on camera. The way he looked into the lens; calm, assured, a little amused..always made me feel like I was the only person he wanted to show himself to.

Malek would lean casually against the counter in nothing but his underwear, arms crossed over that hairy chest, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. His cock would twitch inside the fabric, straining against the cotton like it was waving hello, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Every clip was a tease, a slow burn meant to get under my skin. He never rushed. He didn’t have to. Just the sight of him standing there, thick thighs flexing, his body a casual display of power and heat, was enough to wreck me.

Sometimes he’d caption those clips, short and simple. A shaky close-up of his cock twitching, the message reading: “He says hello.” As if I needed the reminder. As if my body wasn’t already aching just from watching him.And I gave back everything he asked for, and more. I’d send him videos of my hole twitching, spreading myself open for him, captioning it with nothing but: “He says hi too.”That became our language. Our weird, hot, intimate little performance across the distance. A private world we built through screens, where every glance into the camera, every smirk, every moan typed in text carried weight. It was addictive, the way we fed each other’s hunger without ever touching, like foreplay stretched out over weeks, months, until I wasn’t sure where fantasy ended and reality began.

There was one time we actually planned it. He was visiting my city, booked a hotel, even told me he bought condoms and lube. I showered, got ready, the anticipation making me dizzy. And then… silence. He just stopped replying. No explanation. Nothing.

I was furious, embarrassed, heartbroken, all of it at once. I ignored him for three weeks when he finally texted “Hi.”I shot back: “Hey man, you’re probably the hottest guy I’ve ever laid my eyes on who likes me back, but I cannot keep going back and forth without it going anywhere.”

And then, like a final gut punch, his account was gone. Not blocked, he just deleted his reddit account. Just… gone.. poof!

Months passed. I told myself it was over. I forced myself not to think about him.

Then, last month, out of nowhere, a text: “Hi.”

And attached? A picture of a cock.

I knew instantly. Malek.

I messaged back, “Oh my god. Malek.”

He laughed, sent back a crying-laughing emoji, and wrote: “You recognized me just from my dick?”

And yeah… I did. I admitted I remembered every single part of him. His body, his smirk, even the way he used to pose in videos. It was burned into my brain.

He told me he’d permanently moved, now just two hours away. He also said he knew I’d told him not to text me, but he “couldn’t help it.” He apologized.

I told him the truth: “What’s the point if you don’t actually want to meet? But also… I was secretly hoping you’d text me again.”

And since then? It’s been the same loop. Every week he promises he’ll come see me. Every week it doesn’t happen.

I know this is toxic. I know I should block him. I know he’s dangling something in front of me and I’m letting myself fall for it. But then he sends me a video of himself walking bare-ass on his balcony, watering his plants, sunlight hitting his chest hair, his cock bouncing and I completely lose my shit.

I even jerked off to one of those clips last night, the same way I have too many times before, and thought: god, this is the dumbest, hottest, most frustrating obsession I’ve ever had.

And yeah… here I am writing this fun-toxic, cock-twitching, sad little experience because I can’t stop.

I still believe him when he says, “Are you free this weekend Troy? I need a release.”Yeah, of course I’m free, Malek, I think to myself. Sometimes I say yes, sometimes I say no, pretending I’ve got work just so I don’t sound desperate. I say no because deep down I know it’s never going to happen.

When we finally agree on a date and time, he vanishes. Another excuse comes up. Another delay. Another nothing.

But once again I find myself believing him.

I know, I know..you guys would say, “Troy, you need to stop this. Get rid of him.” And I try, I really do. But what do I do when just the thought of him makes my cock twitch? When I can’t help feeding this perfect little fantasy that’s been brewing in my head for months?

Maybe it’s pathetic. Maybe it’s toxic. But it’s mine. And until I finally let him go, I’ll be stuck here… obsessed.------------