You check the time. It's 7am on February 13th 2018.
Two days before Valentine's day, and you haven't had any action from anyone other than your trusty pals Dexter and Sinistra since your ex left you in June of 2016.
You think to yourself "what kind of loser is alone on Valentine's day two years in a row?" You know you can't ask your woomy. Last time you asked her to do something as simple as scratch your back she looked at you like you asked her to flush her eggs down the shower drain. If you asked her for the ol' shlurp she'd probably splat herself. So despite your previous qualms against the app, you install Grindr.
You take a shirtless selfie looking down at your phone. It reminds you of those "I showed you my dick, answer me" posts, and you forcibly exhale out of your nose.
While typing out your bio you made sure to put your height as 183cm despite being a 179cm shrimp.
Proud of your work you begin looking for squid holes to plunder.
"Too fat. Too green. Too small. Too crazy. Too southern. Too old"
And then HE caught your eye. The perfect boy. His tentacles were the perfect shade of golden-Yellow. Those pilot goggles along with the matching black inky Rider and punk blacks made your heart (and by extension, your dick jump in anticipation. If you swiped him any harder you would have flung your phone into the wall.
Then hits you. Why would a semen demon like him bother with an average Joe like you? He probably gets hit on by everyone on the app, why would he settle with someone not as jaw dropping as him?
You hear something, "bing! bing!"  The sound of Mario grabbing coins, which is also your notification tone. Two of them back to back. You pull down the notification bar and see it.
[From: Mom]
"Please visit me, I miss you. I made spaghetti, your favorite!"
[From: RideOrD13]
"$100,000. 635 Gelson Ave, Inkopolis, Apt 4J. 3pm"
Ignoring your mother's plea, you focus your attention toward your new e-crush. It seems that he's a thot. You should have figured. Someone like him would already be in a relationship unless something was up. But you haven't gotten any other matches despite swiping a few others as backups, you've got to see him or run the risk of being a lonely loser on Valentine's. You're sure your woomy won't notice a measly 100k missing out of her millions.
You peel yourself out of your patented gaming chair and apply some shower in a can to yourself. Axe always smells good, no one can resist it. You comb your fingers through your hair, making sure there's no lint. You throw on your favorite clothes, a sweater with bleach stains, old sweat pants with holes at the bottom, and a pair of semi-new white Nike new balances.
2:50pm rolls around, you find yourself in front of the apartment complex where the cute biker lives. As you approach the door you are stopped by a woomy in a bobble hat, red tentatek tee, and blue slipons. She seems like she'd be pretty speedy if you challenged her to a race, but that's just a hunch. Beside her is a locked container, it looks pretty heavy.
"Name and payment." she hisses.
"A-Anon" you stutter a bit, shaking with excitement. Your palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, You feel like you're gonna vomit on your favorite sweater, you regret not taking mom's spaghetti. You reach into your back pocket and pull out the bag filled with tiny coins.
The speedy looking woomy snatches the bag from your hand and tosses it into the safe. You get a glance at the safe's insides. It's filled with different colored bags of a similar size to yours. "Down the hall, first room on the right. You've got 30, minutes." she spits, pushing you inside.
You stumble into the apartment with a gust of air blowing past you as the door is slammed shut. The interior is lonely, but rather average looking. Dishes sit in the kitchen sink and a candle burns within a deep crater in the center. You shuffle awkwardly in the direction the woomy told, your not-so-new sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floors. It's not too late to turn back now, you could go back to your chair and jack off and pretend like none of this ever happened. Despite your thoughts, you carried onwards down the hall towards a lit room out of view. You peak your head inside and see the heartthrob himself sitting in a large king sized bed, idly checking his phone. He continues typing as you drag your feet into the room and lean against a dresser. After about a minute of waiting, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of your heart beating out of your chest, he puts his phone down on the bedside table and gives you a cold stare.
"Well are you just going to stand there?" He sarcastically remarked. You jumped at his frankness and attempted to do something cool and confident to show how cool and confident you are. You paced towards him, one hand in your hoodie pocket, looking around the room.
"I haven't seen a carpeted bathroom in a long time." You force yourself not to stutter. "That's pretty awesome." The yebby looks completely unfazed by your casual chitchat, in fact his expression is a bit more sour than it was before.
"We both know what you're here to do, so get on with it. I have more clients to get to today." He opened the front of his satin robe to reveal a tanned boyish figure clad in a red banana hammock. You immediately felt the blood rush from your face to your weewee. It's been a while since you've done the do, so you're as giddy as can be. The waifish boy patted the area in the bed next to him, which you practically lept into. Your hands shook somewhat violently as you reached towards the yebby's enticing Crusty Sean. The mere feeling of near skin on skin contact was enough to get you from half-mast to full raging hard-on. You could no longer hold back your desires as you escalated your light touch to gentle petting. You look up to the young boy's face and see that he's returned to swiping at his phone with  managed to succea  blank expression. Your pride may have been hurt but now you were on a mission to get some of that sweet peen. You flailed around trying to get your pants off while lying down in a bed and  bunch them around your knees. You waved your rod of moderate size in the boy's direction, to which he grabbed and started pumping without looking away from his phone. His movements caressed you in ways your ex never would have even imagined, quickly bringing you to the edge. Your vision became blurry as you prepared yourself for orgasm, harshly yelling out your ex's name before releasing your load onto those beautiful yellow tentacles. The blissful feeling of post-orgasm quickly faded to humiliation as you realized that not only did you cum from a minute of a handjob, but you also yelled out the name of your ex in front of your "date". Tears welled up in your eyes and you clenched your hands into two tight fists to hold back your sobbing. The yebby grabbed a nearby cloth and wiped your jizz off of him. The silence between you two was frequently broken by your hiccups, holding back your emotional breakdown.
To save yourself from embarrassing yourself further you gather your belongings as calmly as you can and shuffle your way out of the yebby's room, stifling your tears. As you exit the front door Speedy elbows you and jeers "a quickshot, eh? hope it was worth the money!" humiliated and down 100k you sprint down the hallway, tears streaming down your face at full force.
You arrive back at your apartment. You wipe your face with some tissue you had in your pocket to hide the wetness from your tears.
You open the door and your woomy who is sitting on the couch greets you with a "So what were you up to today?".
You plop down next to your woomy, look her in the eye and tell her "Please don't pick team money."