SL — goodbye

I must admit to being flummoxed about his disappearance.

He sent a positive text the day after we last met and we sketched a plan to meet for a car activity early the following week. I let him know the days I was free and never heard back.

Lost interest, found someone else, wants someone else, I was too experienced and wild, not experienced and wild enough, fuck knows.

I’m back to step one so I’ll resurrect my profile again. I know where I’ve made errors along the way and can exhibit better judgement, but this last one took me by surprise.

SL – hello

The tall chap I met and was lukewarm about taking for a test ride has been taken for a test ride. I’m feeling a bit embarrassed as I am running out of names for people; he can be Skinny Lover as the similarly-titled song by Bon Iver was playing on the drive home. The playlist also served up Prince and Queens of the Stone Age so best I stick with SL.

A break of a couple of weeks between having a drink and meeting took me on a spinning wheel of attitudes from joy to apathy but landed on ‘anticipation’ in the days prior. On the morning he sent a message wishing me a good day, and I thought I could take this interaction at face value, thank goodness, as my brain was warping from dealing with others.

I got lost finding his house in the dark and almost took out a rubbish bin in the narrow driveway but I managed to arrive at the agreed time. He answered the door and I did that thing where I skulk around the lounge room uncomfortably while pretending to be relaxed, so this time after a lap or two of the room I planted my backside on the couch. He sat next to me and put his arm around me, and I thought, good, I can respond to that action without looking awkward, so I kissed his neck and after not very long at all our lips made contact.

He seems to have a thing for my breasts and his cold hands brought instant goosebumps when they slid under my shirt. He undid the buttons and lifted my bra to replace his fingers with a warm tongue and small bites until I squealed a little too uncomfortably. My fingers ran along his long spine and clasped his backside and I returned the favour by sliding my hands under his jumper while they were still cold from being outdoors. He didn’t squeal.

We were squished side by side on the lounge and he navigated his way on top of me and ground his pelvis into mine. I encountered the first thought of wondering what he was packing inside his jeans; I’d been switched off the dating site for a week and couldn’t recall if I’d bothered to read the ‘measurements’ section of his profile (I tend not to read those as they’re usually filled with more fantasy than horoscopes in gossip magazines). My initial guess was that if he’s tall and thin then his penis might follow similar lines but I’ve experienced surprise packages in the past. When he raised himself on his arms for me to remove his shirt, his jeans slid down his waist a little and the engorged head of his erect cock poked out.

Oh, hello, this might require further investigation.

Off came his pants and underwear and by then my hands were warm enough to go exploring.

I got the long part of my guess correct, but his shaft was a generous handful of thickness and I was wrong yet again with my prediction. It became my goal to have this slab of cock inside me as soon as possible.

My plan went awry for an hour or so because his cock somehow made the journey from my hand upwards to my mouth. I could get him somewhat firm but couldn’t find a technique to bring him to full hardness, however, I was listening to his noises intensify and he was thrusting in my mouth by this time. I thought I couldn’t be too far from discovering what he liked because everything sounded like he was having a good time.

Then he said, “You’re going to make me come.”

And he did.

I was not expecting that.

And I wasn’t really wanting that. While I can appreciate the thrill of learning the reactions of someone new, I had no idea of his recovery time and I was feeling more than a little in want of attention.

I didn’t have to sweat the next move as he set me back on the lounge, spread my legs and went on a magical mystery tour with his fingers and tongue. I’ll definitely be going back for more tongue treatment as he has some tingle-inspiring moves; I didn’t come but I think I’ll be able to if we settle into something regular and I can relax more. But his fingers honed in on my G-spot and thankfully he was relatively gentle as I could feel the urge to squirt building when I orgasmed. I could hear myself laughing and feel my legs kicking in the air and thought I could have a hundred of those without batting an eyelid. And all without squirting – check out my new self control!

As he continued I felt his fingers sliding through a different kind of wetness and I asked forlornly if I had indeed squirted on his furniture. He said not to worry about it. I looked for the damage and saw a fist-sized dark patch on the cushion between my legs. I tried to feel guilty about leaving a mess but I was still giggly and also glad my body hadn’t released a full quantity of fluid. He can learn about those marvels another time and in a location not upholstered with fabric.

With both of us sated, we relaxed on the couch and watched TV for a while (not a terrible movie this time, but a boring sports game that I could tolerate as I knew we hadn’t finished with each other).

Part of me was curious about why we hadn’t gone to his bedroom, but when I opened the hallway door to use the bathroom, the rear section of the house was close to freezing and I scurried back to the warmth as quickly as I could. He got up to use the bathroom and I had a quiet perve for as long as my poor eyesight could maintain the view. He’s rail thin and all protruding bones along all the bony parts and there’s a nice covering of muscle along his lengths and some detailed inkwork on his shoulders. Ah ha, Mr Respectful, Normal and Sane has a ‘side’.

He returned and launched for my breasts again and I took him into my hands to do higher level research on how his erection functions. Again, his cock became almost hard when he walked to the kitchen to fetch a condom. We slid into the classic missionary position and I prepared to be filled when he entered me because his cock was at a perfect 90 degrees when he returned from the kitchen.

He entered me but I didn’t feel full. I looked down my belly and could see his cock moving in and out but without the accompanying expected sensation. I wrapped my legs around his back to adjust the angle and there was no change. He brought my legs to his shoulders so I was almost eating my knees and the reduced feeling was the same. I braced my hamstrings to stabilise myself and he put a lot of effort into slamming me — I finally felt some hard thrusting and he came.

Later we repeated the exercise and the same thing occurred. I think he gets fully hard prior to orgasm as I can feel him in those moments, but the rest of the time he operates at about 80 per cent. It’s not a problem as there are plenty of things we can do in addition to intercourse but I was nonetheless thrown out of my comfort zone of assumption and into a new world of perception.

I think I’d worn him out and he distracted me by changing the TV channel to the Tour de France coverage. I was instantly transfixed. I calculated the breakaway group’s margin versus the kilometres left and the likelihood of a thrilling finish versus the awareness that I really should be in bed and not keeping SL up because his television is bigger than mine. After several ad breaks of me saying I really needed to get dressed and leave, I finally got dressed and left, almost taking his rubbish bin out of existence again.

He messaged the next day asking what kinky things I was interested in, so I guess that means we’ll see each other again. I’m happy about that.

Perception and reality

I am as guilty of self delusion as any other woman when I say and write I want a respectful, normal, sane casual partner, yet I still revel in the blood-warming flush of lust when facing an unsuitable man with whom I have experienced a strong and immediate attraction.

Respectful, normal, sane men can’t win sometimes if their assets aren’t immediately evident and women can be their own worst enemies for not giving these men a greater chance. I don’t know the moral of this story yet except I’m currently trying to break the stereotype but may fall back into delusion and want things that aren’t good for me.

Perception

I met the third man mentioned in the last online dating post, and the poor-quality profile picture of a young, shit-grinned punk didn’t do him justice in the slightest. When a tall, charismatic, broad-shouldered, dirty blonde-haired, golden-skinned, hand-carved statue of a man (that might be enough adjectives …) strode towards me in his building’s foyer, every cell in my body woke and paid strict attention. He was friendly and wasn’t scared of direct, unblinking contact with his opal green eyes but I couldn’t read a single message contained in them. Even towards the end of the conversation his body language was open and interested but was no different from when we said hello. Bamboozling, and I, of course, could not have been more interested in determining when I could rip the suit from his body.

When I needed to leave I asked if he was interested in meeting again. He said yes and suggested we have lunch next time I’m in the area.

What does lunch mean? Doubly bamboozling.

Nevertheless, I was still enchanted and we later exchanged a few messages heading into decidedly heated territory. He started making more mention of his predilection for swingers’ parties and watching people fuck while having his cock sucked. I must’ve processed the conversation overnight as I woke in the  morning thinking that getting naked with strangers wasn’t my thing, and it was his, which was fair enough, but we hadn’t spoken of anything that might happen between us.

And thankfully my interest level waned; he also must have experienced buyer’s remorse overnight because he didn’t respond to my last message. I mentally said goodbye and let him be. Phew.

Reality

I met the second man from the same blog post for a drink. He is outrageously tall and had to bend markedly at the neck and base of his spine for us to kiss hello. He’s also fashion model skinny and has mad scientist-unruly strawberry blonde hair verging on red depending on the poorness of the lighting. I liked his physical differences and how we interacted, but when we left the bar I wondered if I could make myself feel a spark of lust for him. I was in a mindset of if we were stuck on a deserted island together we’d be going for it day and night rather than fetching coconuts, but in this real life I’m holding back for some reason. Oh, perhaps it’s because I want everything in one person straight away even though not many in that mould exist and I may not be worthy anyway.

I engaged in some self talk telling myself to be less critical and more open, and I spoke up and asked if he’d be interested in catching up the next weekend we were free (he has part-time custody of his children).

He said yes and leaned against my car, pulling me towards him and locking his lips with mine. After a couple of exploratory kisses he grasped my breast and I could feel the hunger building through the pressure of his hand. It was too early in the piece for me to reach correspondingly for his groin area so I felt around his bony spine and shoulder blades with fascination (I’m distracted at the most inappropriate times but my mind wandered to thinking if his hip bones would hurt if he was on top of me – only one way to find out).

But I felt some things happening inside, and one of them was satisfaction at my maturity of committing to see him again. It’s not forever if it doesn’t work out during the test ride.