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Relief Next To Me

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Are you uncut? Clean? Open-minded?

You're in luck!

I'm a single 25 year old male looking to try out an uncut dick of a similar age (attached to a single male) for a quick blow job experiment.

Please email your first name, age, general location, and a photo of your dick with a Post-It on the shaft. On the Post-It, draw me a flower using your favorite color crayon/marker/pencil/etc. No faces in the photo, as I don't care what you look like, and could you imagine if your nude photo leaked? What if you're a celebrity one day? Please mention Craigslist in your subject line.

If chosen, please be prepared to provide your ID and two most recent medical screenings to prove you are indeed clean. That is an absolute necessity. If you arrive without documentation, I will send you on your way.

Sounds crazy, right? But, hey, you're getting free head out of it.

No romance. No kissing. No sleepover. Just head.

Best of luck!



"Tell me again why you're doing this?"

Louis shut his MacBook and smiled at the glowing white apple, shaking his head.

"You're going to think I'm crazy."

"We've blown past that," Liam said, refilling Louis' mug. Coffee tinged steam rose from the white porcelain cup. "Excellent eggs, by the way."

Louis lifted his fork in cheers, a bit of scrambled eggs hanging off the end.

"I just feel like gaining a bit more experience with uncut dicks. That's all."

Liam burst out laughing as he sat in his seat. From somewhere in the flat, Zayn could be heard groaning. It was a noise Louis was familiar with.

"You sound like you're taking a seminar to strengthen your Power Point skills. Or to broaden your social media horizons." Liam munched on toast for a moment, tilting his head. "Though I guess technically this is broadening your social media horizons?"

Louis smiled down at his breakfast, using his toast to push the remainder of his eggs around. He crossed his ankles under the table, bare feet shuffling on the hardwood floor.

"Yes, I'll have to update my resume immediately. Maybe even add it to my business cards."

"Why don't you just pull a few guys and see how that goes?"

"Ugh, that would require such effort."

"No way," Liam said, laughing again. "You pull at the bloody grocery store. The pharmacy."

"Funerals," Zayn said, shuffling into the kitchen. He wrapped an arm around Liam's chest, hand flattening on the center. His voice was like gravel to say, "Morning, love," into Liam's hair, kissing him twice on the crown on his head.

"Funerals is bullshit," Louis insisted, shoving toast into his mouth.

"False," Liam said, coffee poised at his lips. “You, me, your uncle's step-nephew's girlfriend’s brother Trevor, and the Lord Jesus Christ know that I speak the truth.”

"I'm not commenting on this ridiculous accusation,” Louis said over Liam, though he was smirking while chewing his last bite of eggs. He swallowed and placed his fork on the center of his empty place. “All I'm saying, is that I'd like to find someone to blow once, figure things out, and then be done with it. I don't want to pull or flirt or date or any of that."

Zayn flopped down in his seat. He wrapped his hand around Liam's coffee and brought it to his lips.

"This wouldn't have anything to with...” He sipped for a moment and winced. "Too much bloody sugar, babe. To do with Thor, would it?"

"Ooh, Thor talk." Liam placed his elbows on the table, planting his chin on his clasped hands. Louis shot daggers from across the table, his posture still relaxed as he read something on his iPad. "Do tell."

Thor was actually named Evan. He was one of Louis' colleagues at Simone, the most in-demand advertising agency in London. Louis and Evan worked together on almost every project for the past three years or so. Electric toothbrushes, high end alcohol, big name brand technology. All received their advertising expertise. Evan resembled Thor, something that only added to Louis' appreciation of him.

Thor was transferred to their Chicago office the day after New Year's, which Louis had not quite gotten over yet. Their chat at the company Christmas party, however, had made Louis question whether he should request a move to the Windy City.

“C'mon, Lou, spill,” Liam said, nudging their bare feet under the table.

Louis' eyes snapped to Liam and Zayn.

“Nothing to say about Thor. He just...” Louis glanced at his iPad screen, three new email tones sounding. Zayn rounded the table, planting himself at the coffee pot and simply inhaling. “We had a good chat at the party, that's all.”

“A good chat that inspired you to suck some dick?”

Louis smiled at Zayn's rasped comment and scrolled through to another email. He could feel caramel eyes burning a hole in his iPad screen.

“Jesus,” Zayn said, leaning over Louis' shoulder, a steaming mug of coffee gripped in his hand. “Is that a Post-It?”

Louis wrinkled his nose and went to the next email.

“Yeah. It's how I asked them to submit photos so I know it's real, not just a porn picture they sent.”

Zayn pulled one of the kitchen chairs up next to Liam, his body slinking sideways into him.

“And how do you know that this person won't be either crazy or a murderer or dirty as fuck or all of the above?”

“He put very specific instructions,” Liam said, opening Louis' laptop. He typed the password in without thought (fucks0ck$) and brought up the ad. “See?” He turned the screen to Zayn, nodding sagely. “Very thorough.”

Louis cooed and opened his fingers on the iPad screen.

“Aw, guys, look at this one. He drew me a rose and his favorite color is purple. Precious.”

He turned the iPad towards them. Zayn inhaled suddenly through his clenched teeth.

“Jesus, those piercings. I'm all for body art, but Christ.” He adjusted himself in his track bottoms. “How does he even piss?”

Liam eyed the photo, pursing his lips forward.

“He's got nice fingernails, though, so he's probably quite clean.”

Zayn laughed, pecking Liam's lips.

“I love you and the way your brain works.”

Louis placed his iPad on the kitchen table and stood up, grabbing Liam's breakfast plate as he passed. His iPad continued to shoot off tones and vibrations, all three staring at it.

“Fuck, I just posted the ad,” Louis said, rinsing his plate. “I don't know if the speedy replies are sad or inspiring.”

“Well,” Liam appeared at his side, “seeing as searching for a job is incredibly competitive, maybe your applicants are treating this particular job with the same sort of commitment.”

Louis squirted soap into a frying pan.

“I should have asked for resumes.”

“To find out what?” Zayn asked, propping his feet on Louis' empty chair. He shut his eyes and let his head tilt back. “Applicant one speaks intermediate French and Spanish--”

“Ooh, how international,” Liam butted in.

“--is comfortable with HTML, Java, and Adobe Photoshop--”

“Intelligent,” Liam said, shoving Zayn's legs away to sit down.

“--And loves blow jobs.”

“That's my hope,” Louis said, placing the pan on a drying rack. “I'll have to screen applicants later. I've got yoga in an hour and want to stop at the store first to get mouthwash. Either of you need anything?”

“Nope, thanks, though,” Liam said, smiling up at Louis. “Such a responsible young man, you are.”

Zayn's eyes popped open, his wrist flying in front of his face.

“Fuck, Li, why did you let me sleep so late?”

“Let you? As if there was another option?”

Louis smiled to himself as he padded down the hallway to his bedroom, Liam and Zayn quietly ribbing each other in the kitchen, which concluded with Liam offering to make Zayn cheesy eggs and what was left of the bacon.

. . .

When Louis returned to his flat a couple of hours later he was sweaty and exhausted in the best way. Liam and Zayn were out, giving him the place to himself. He plugged his iPhone into his bathroom dock, stripped his clothes off, and then spent almost an hour in the shower. The only annoying thing was that his phone would cut music out each time he received an email, which was quite often. It really broke up his dancing rhythm.

He flopped on his bed in just black boxer briefs, his iPad resting on the bed. He started to scroll through emails. He never thought he'd get tired of seeing cocks, but after a while, they all started to blend with each other. Some penises weren't even qualified for the project and did not feature foreskin, which seemed to be a clear indication that they were not the right match. And the flower choices. Pathetic, at best. Daisies were cheerful and easy to draw, but a little creativity would have been nice.

He was just about to call it a dick day when he received an email titled: Hi, I'm Harry and I read Craigslist sometimes...Usually when I take a break from admiring my perfect, uncut cock :)

Louis cracked a smile, the tips of his fingers tingling as he opened the email.

Hi! I'm Harry. I'm twenty-three, though I turn twenty-four in a couple of weeks. I actually don't possess a perfect cock, just a normal one that appreciates hands and mouths and, if I'm feeling wild, maybe a bit of teeth. I've attached my photo to this email. I'm in London (Kentish Town) and have a strange work schedule, but I can try to work around your scheduling needs. Hope to hear from you soon!

Right off the bat, before even seeing the photo, Louis appreciated that this so called Harry spelled out the numbers, instead of using digits. It just read more elegant that way. He also appreciated that Harry could spell without using text speak. That alone made his cock perk up in his boxer briefs.

He scrolled down and slowly murmured, “Hello, Harry,” aloud, smiling at the screen.

Harry's uncut cock seemed to be only half-hard, his wet head peeking out of the tender deep pink skin, but still enough that he needed his entire palm to prop it up. He had a touch of soft looking brown hair on his groin, his fingernails clean (Liam would approve) and his hand meaty. He couldn't see his face or most of his body, but he looked to be muscled, his skin smooth.

Louis bit his bottom lip, smile widening into a grin. His favorite flower was apparently tulips, but he'd broken a rule and used two colors of magic marker to create his detailed sketch. He used red for the flower itself and green for the stem. He'd also drawn a smiley face on the bottom of of the note in bright blue, along with a tiny print of: Sorry, I heart colors, with the heart drawn in red.

“I think we have a winner,” Louis said, opening a message to reply.

. . .

The next morning, Louis made Liam extra fluffy pancakes with blueberries. When his roommate sat down at the table he smiled up at Louis, his eyes bright and his body bouncing.

“Eat up.”

“What's the occasion for all this?” Liam asked, poising his fork for a bite.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Liam stopped his fork just shy of hitting pancake.

“As you already know, I don't qualify for your study for two big reasons. One being the lovely Zayn, the other being, well,” he looked down at his crotch, “you know.”

Louis burst out laughing, digging into his own breakfast.

“No, no, crazy. God, no. Ugh.” He shivered with his entire body, mouth opening in a wild grimace. “No. Fuck, that'd be like blowing my brother.”


“Yeah, no. I just need you to sit in the flat for about twenty minutes this afternoon.” He chewed for a moment, swallowing before adding, “Maybe thirty, if Harry's especially up for it.”

Liam raised his eyebrows, his mouth agape and pancake bumping his bottom lip.


“The winning candidate,” Louis said, sipping his coffee. “I picked him and he's free for a bit later today, so.” He shrugged one shoulder, his baggy white vee neck slouching. “He's coming over at around three.”

“And he met all your qualifications?”

“Via email? Yes. But we'll have to see when he gets here. If the ID and stuff matches his story.”

Louis brought up his Facebook on the iPad, smiling to himself. His twin sisters had a birthday coming up and their mum had posted a picture of them posing in their special birthday dresses on his wall.

“I mean, I'm as clean as can be, and have never had an issue with that, but I don't think I kept the paperwork from my last screening, let alone two screenings ago.”

He pulled up Harry's most recent email, eyes scanning over his message.

“Apparently, he had a wild couple of years in his early twenties. He's chilled a bit. He still gets tested regularly, which is kind of more arousing to me than most other possible features he could have.”

“Sounds good,” Liam said, dumping a spoonful of sugar in his coffee. He stirred quickly, tapping the spoon on the side of the mug. “So,” he sipped once, humming, “what am I supposed to tell Zayn if he asks why I'm sitting around the flat trying not to listen to the sounds coming from your room?”

Louis colored at that thought, the back of his neck warm.

“There won't be any noises, just,” he stumbled over his words, “just, I dunno. Put on headphones. Isn't that a roommate thing to do?”

“And Zayn? What do I tell him? I mean,” Liam's eyes went warm, almost concerned, “may I tell him? I promise not to say anything, if you don't want me to.”

Louis smirked, twirling his fork on his plate.

“Hmm, let's just say that we're, uh,” he speared a bite with extra blueberries, “exchanging CDs.”


“Yeah. Like I have some old CDs to get rid of, Harry has some to get rid of, so we're swapping.” Louis stared at Liam for another beat. “And,” he said, almost letting out a giggle, “we are exchanging come and dicks--”

“Oh, fuck, I knew that was what you were going to say!” Liam pointed his fork at Louis' hysterically laughing face. “I knew you were going to say come and dicks! Why did I know you were going to say that!?”

. . .

Louis smoothed his hand over his duvet, tugging the bottom left corner into place. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and lifted his hands to his hair, pushing the front off his forehead. He had showered after breakfast and attempted to do his hair, but he loathed primping on Sundays. He preferred to spend Sundays in sweats and a beanie with a steady stream of warm beverages or chilled wine, but he was expecting a guest. He had to at least make an effort to look presentable.

He went to close his closet door and frowned at the neat line of shoes around the bottom. He itched his ankle with his bare right foot. They were going to end up on the bed anyway, so why bother with shoes?

He shut the door, did a final scan of the room, and sighed happily. He'd managed to both tidy up his room and hide any potential personal information. He could smell the lemon cleaner he used on his hardwood floors. His bed was outfitted with clean pale blue sheets and his darker blue duvet.

He left the bedroom just in time to hear his door buzz. Liam emerged from his hallway and smiled at Louis, headphones and his laptop in hand. He sat at the kitchen table and plugged himself in.

“Have fun,” he said, lips twitching not to laugh.

Louis snorted and padded to the front door. He held his thumb over the speaker button.


“Tulips,” a deep voice said through the speaker. The hair on the back of Louis' neck stood up, Liam leaning back in his chair to eye the speaker, his brows raised. Somehow, the voice made their tinny intercom system sound warm and smooth. “Red tulips?”

“Oh, yes,” Louis said, holding down the black door button. He heard the door buzz through the speaker, the sound of it opening and closing sounding next. He stepped away from the door and ran his hand over the back of his neck. He felt eyes on him and looked to Liam. “What?”

“Nice voice, is all.”

“Weren't you supposed to be wearing headphones?”

Liam just giggled and popped his earbuds into his ears, giving Louis two thumbs up. His music vibrated in the air a second later, his fingers flying over his keyboard.

“Wait,” Louis said suddenly, holding his palm on the closer door. He jerked his hand at Liam and flicked his fingers towards Liam's side of the flat. “Go to your room.”

Liam pulled one earbud out.

“But why, mum?”

“Because I don't want to freak him out if you're sitting here.”

“But what if he murders you?”

“You'll hear it from your room.”

Liam grinned and shook his head.

“Whatever, man.” He picked up his laptop and strolled to his hallway, giggling, “Blow him away,” before shutting his bedroom door.

Harry knocked on the door, three soft knocks. Louis pulled the door open, then dragged his eyes upward.

He was reminded of the time when his boss took him out to dinner a month into working at the agency, just to talk about how he felt at the new position and get to know each other. They went to an expensive Italian restaurant where the food was meticulous and precise, course after course of flavors exploding on his tongue. No canned tomato sauce or over cheesed pizza to be found.

While eating the most delicious food he'd ever had while receiving nothing but positive praise from his boss, Louis thought he was going to come in his pants for the first time since he was fifteen.

He felt that sensory overload the moment he opened the door, one long second passing while he stared up at the long limbed, bright eyed, curly haired man taking up most of his doorway, the bob of his throat only reminding Louis of his deep voice. So much potential for pleasure.

“Hi, I'm Louis,” he said, holding his hand out. He could turn on professional at the drop of a hat. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Hi,” he was gripped tight and warm in Harry's fleshy hand, “I'm Harry. Nice to meet you.” While Louis added polite to his mental list of Harry items, which included collarbones, black t-shirt, and skin, Harry brought his left hand out from behind his back. “Oh, these are for you.”

Louis took the offered white box, his brows furrowed together.

“Oh.” He let go of Harry's hand to lift the top off, sugar and butter filling his nostrils. “Cookies?”

“Yup. Just a bit of a mix.” Harry put his hands in the pockets of his tight black skinnies. “They go well with coffee or tea.”

"You brought cookies to a Craigslist blow job?"

Harry shrugged his right shoulder.

"They were in my car. Brought them home from work. Thought you might like some."

"Where do you work?"

"Uh…A bakery."

Louis nodded and hummed, Harry's eyes crinkling with mirth. He walked closer to the kitchen and placed the cookies on the table. He turned to Harry, noting that Harry's wide eyes were scanning around the spacious, light filled living room.

“Nice windows.”

“Thanks, yeah, I loved them when I looked at the place.”

Harry turned in a circle, his legs seeming to understand the idea of moving faster than his long feet. His boots dragged a little while he turned. He smiled at Louis once he was turned around.

“You have a lovely home.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. My flatmate is in his bedroom, so,” his lips clenched together for a minute, Harry blinking at him, “no murdering, okay?”

Harry chuckled, “Okay, no problem,” in that raspy, deep voice.

"Alright then," Louis said, clapping his hands together once. "Have you got your ID and paperwork?"

"Right, yeah." Harry dug inside his rucksack for a moment. "Here are..." He hummed, his brows scrunching inward while he searched. “Aha.” He smiled onto the open rucksack and pulled a clipped stack of papers. “My most recent screenings."

Louis checked over the document, making a mental note of Harry's last name (Styles), his address (not too far from him, actually), his age (twenty-three), the fact that he drank socially but did not smoke (plus), and that he was completely disease free (biggest plus). He also noted Harry's neat handwriting in the top right corner of each paper, along with an orange tab on the center of each sheet, both listing the months DECEMBER and SEPTEMBER.

"Here's my ID."

He held Harry's ID up next to his face, unable to control a small laugh from escaping.

"Were you twelve when you took this photo?"

"Hey," Harry said, slow and deep, amusement lighting his eyes. "I was a late bloomer, alright?" Louis chuckled again, softer, and handed him his ID. "Um. May I see yours, too?"

"Oh! Right. Yes." Louis pulled his ID out of his pocket and handed it over. He jogged into the kitchen, standing on tiptoe near the fridge. "Lemme just grab this."

Harry appeared next to him, extending his mega-arm to reach a file folder.

"This what you're looking for?"


Harry smirked down at him and handed him the file, Louis tilting his head back to look into his eyes. A little tingle manifested in his stomach.

"Because everyone keeps sensitive information on top of an appliance they can't reach."

"Ha ha," Louis deadpanned, handing over his screenings.

Harry held it up, squinting from the paper to Louis' face. He ran his thumb over a bit of bright yellow paper stuck over where Louis' last name would be.

"Did you really cut tiny pieces of Post-It to cover your information?"

"I did."

Harry dropped his arm to his side.

"Are you serious?"

"You could be an identity thief."

“Or a murderer,” Harry said lowly, widening his doe eyes.

“Or both,” Louis said on a gasp. “Could you imagine my luck?”

“Would be total shit,” Harry said, nodding. “Luckily,” he handed the paperwork back and smiled, “I'm not.”

“Excellent news.” Louis placed his papers in the manilla folder and handed it over to Harry, who placed it on top of the fridge for him. He put his ID in his pocket and tilted his head to the left. “Wanna start?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”