Tag Archives: Oral sex

Context: Dates 31.6-8, 35.1-2, and 14.4

Before I get to telling you about Date 37, who deserves a solo entry, just a quick update on where I was at in the dating arena. As you might recall, Date 31 was the sadistic nice Jewish boy who loves country music (and the way I give head). He would be so appalled if he knew I was writing this! Hehe. Anyway, he and I fall into the friends-with-benefits category since we love having sex but know we’re not right for each other based on where each of us is in life (i.e., he wants kids/I *don’t* want any more kids).That said, like me and Date 5 (whom you might recall has porn-star-worthy anatomy), Date 31 and I have an understanding that if we find someone we think is a serious contender, the benefits part of our friendship will be put on hold (hopefully indefinitely, but, you know…this isn’t our first rodeo).

Anyway, here’s the sequence of my dates just prior to meeting Date 37:

Date 31.6–He comes over to my place in his work clothes because he has client meetings afterward. All I can say is, yum! I love seeing a hot man (especially one I know is going to give it to me and hard) in a suit. Have I mentioned that Date 31 is a financial adviser? Well, he is. He works for a nationally known investment-banking conglomerate, so we always chat about the market and such. So there we are, on the clock, at my place. He’s hot, I’m hot for him, and he spanks the living daylights out of me until my ass is various shades of black, blue, and red. Which means I’m out of commission for at least a week with anyone else if I don’t want them to know what a slutty freak I am.

Date 35.1–Coffee date with a guy I met online. Even though I’d sworn off dating Hispanic men, since my many friends who are married to them consistently deal with all sorts of jealousy and possessiveness issues, Date 35 was super hot, over six feet tall, already had kids (boys–which are my theoretical stepkids of choice), and worked in lucrative field (yet another guy from the profession that must not be named, actually), so I made an exception. After meeting him in person, however, I was on the fence. I detected an angry undertone to Date 35’s words–especially regarding his ex-wife–but he was definitely hot and I couldn’t help wondering how the sex would be with him. Being that I was still all bruised up from Date 31.6, though, I knew I’d have to take things slow with this guy if they were going to go there, giving my ass time to look innocent. But what do I do? Instead of taking my vitamins and laying low, the next day…

Date 31.7–On my way to meet a romance-writer friend (of the sweet, chaste variety–yes, there is such a thing!) to attend a literary event, there was just enough time to meet Date 31 for a quickie. Right beforehand, he sent me this text: I’ll leave the door unlocked. Please lock it behind you. I’ll be naked in bed waiting when you arrive at 4:45. Please don’t say a word. Simply take off your clothes and start sucking my dick. After sucking it GOOD for a little while, ask me nicely if I am ready to fuck you. If I say yes, just turn over in the doggie-style position and wait for me to whip and fuck you. See you soon!

Oy. What can I say? I think Date 31 liked the idea of resetting my clock on getting close to anyone else. But that didn’t stop me from going out on a second date with Date 35, since I figured I’d be waiting until at least the third date with him anyway, but…

Date 35.2–When Date 35 showed up in his luxury SUV at my place to pick me up to go out for a sushi dinner, I was wearing a skirt, high-heeled sandals, a dressy top, and a very pretty cardigan (no, guys aren’t that far off base when they say I’ve got a “librarian thing” going on). Date 35, however, was wearing nylon gym shorts, shower shoes, and a grungy T-shirt. I almost didn’t get in the car. “Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed upon seeing me all dolled up. “I should have told you–because I have to wear a suit all week for work, I don’t dress up on weekends. At all.” No shit, I wanted to say, since he’d looked really nice when we’d met for coffee. “Want to go up and change?” he asked. I hesitated, wondering if I should just call the whole thing off, but honestly, I hadn’t had sushi in a long time, and I was super craving it. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll just be five minutes.”

Mistake!!! To make a long story short, the sushi was great, but the conversation was questionable. Date 35’s deep-seated anger became more and more apparent as the night wore on, but at the same time, he kept ordering drinks for us and touching me in ways that were turning me on, despite my better judgment. After dinner, he said he needed to sit in the car for awhile before he felt like he could drive responsibly. Now, the right thing to do would have been to tell him to walk me home, since the sushi restaurant was reasonably close to my place. Instead, I said okay and hung out with him in his car, where he proceeded to maul me like a sex-starved teenager. No, I didn’t have sex with him, but he got way too up close and personal with my business. Luckily, it was dark, though, so he didn’t see why I was fighting so hard not to remove my clothes. In the days afterward, he texted me incessantly, wanting to take me out again. Because of his angry attitude, I hesitated to say no right away, kind of giving him the run around, but within a week, I manned up and told him sorry, I just wasn’t feeling it, and he left me alone.

Date 31.8–Knowing I was about to have oral surgery and my dick-sucking prowess would be impaired for at least a few weeks, Date 31 made a special late-night visit to my place mere hours before I was slated to show up at the periodontist’s office. It was the third time I had seen him in ten days, and I have to say, even though we were clear on not being serious with each other, it felt way too comfortable, like if we did ever decide to take things to the next level, we’d actually be pretty happy together. We talked about pre-nups, my kids, the stock market, after-hours trading, and whatnot. He ate my leftover Chinese food, then devoured a bunch of my homemade oatmeal-craisin cookies, exclaiming how fat he’d be if we were married. But what can I say? Different goals. At any rate, we parted on a good note.

Date 14.4–Have I mentioned that I’m a sucker for men in golf clothes? Not sure what it is, but I can’t help it–I get totally wet when I see hot guys in polo shirts, visors, and golf shorts or pants. Date 14, who was still 27 at the time, works for a major golf-equipment manufacturer and golfs a lot as part of his job. I was probably way too loopy from the painkillers I was on after my surgery, but for whatever reason, when he texted asking if he could stop by for a little while, I said okay, sure. When he showed up still wearing his golf clothes, however, I was like, right on!!!

What a mess. So, all that to say, I’m somewhat lacking in the self-control department. Both Date 31 and Date 5 had been telling me forever that if I liked a guy, I needed to NOT sleep with him right away, instead making him wait a bit. With that bit of wisdom in my pocket and my recent experiences–which proved I was going nowhere fast in the relationship department with how I was behaving–a couple days later, I went on a first date with a new guy: Date 37.

Dates 29.0, 29.1 & Beyond: Here’s to the Future

As the year and this blog come to a close, I’ve been making some resolutions. Not resolutions, really, more like decisions. In 2010, 2011, and 2012, I opened the year with a 21-day “Daniel fast” (eating primarily fruits and vegetables), during which I also refrained from masturbation. Given that my ex and I only had sex three times the last five years of our marriage, believe me–not playing with myself for three weeks was way more difficult than going vegan and avoiding sugar and white flour. But I did it, and I felt like God blessed me for the effort. [Side note: if you want to know more about the rationale behind faith-based fasting, there’s a pastor named Jentezen Franklin who’s written some great books on the subject.]

Last January (2013), I was in a really rough place. I had left my husband three months earlier and was clinically depressed, the result of which being that I wasn’t sleeping well and had dropped 30 pounds. Honestly, I was dreading the annual fast and a little worried about my health given the circumstances. And then the pastor at my church made an announcement: for the opening of 2013, he felt like God was leading him to skip the corporate fast, calling for feasting, instead.

Anyway, this year, the fast is on again, and I know this one’s going to be an important turning point for me. In short, here’s the deal: vegan diet, no sugar, no flour, no caffeine, no alcohol, no sex (since I’m not married), and no masturbation. And this time, I’m feeling called to do it for 40 days instead of 21. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m doing my best to set myself up for success–I canceled all my online dating subscriptions and I already stopped drinking coffee a week ago.

Of course, as I’ve been typing this, trying to resolve to be good, Date 14 (the 27-year-old with the tattoo on his back, the guy who probably has sleep apnea) texted me out of the blue. I know I should ignore him, but I wrote him back, carrying on a totally inappropriate conversation [secondary side note: Date 14 mentioned how much he liked it when I gave him head, which is tawdry enough as it is, but here’s the really bad thing–I don’t remember sucking his dick! I was so drunk both times I was with him, I was inwardly all like, Hunh??? when he texted me his compliments just now.]

Okay–seems like the texting has tapered off for the time being, so maybe I’m not going to slip up before I ever get started being chaste (although, I have to say, there is the temptation to say, Well, January hasn’t started yet…), but let’s talk about Date 29, the guy from my church, shall we? Here’s the deal with him: we’re from the same small group (a home-based Bible study group designed to enable people to connect on a more personal level, even though our church is super big), so it’s kind of awkward to be dating, but that didn’t stop him from asking me out. First, he just asked if I was going to attend one of the Christmas production performances, saying he’d be there the same night and that we should sit together (Date 29.0). When I showed up, he’d gotten a serious haircut (big improvement) and was all dressed up. We wound up talking for an hour after the show, leading to his asking me out on an actual date.

We went on that date this week (Date 29.1). I wish I could say he was the one, but he’s not, and now I’ve got to face him (and our mutual friends, who know we went out) in church and at small group. We connected on a friendship level, and there was some degree of attraction on my part, but there were a few dealbreakers I just couldn’t get past, the biggest of which was the casual mention of a homophobic attitude. As I might have mentioned before, I have gay friends and family, and I believe that, whether gay or straight, God made us the way we are, and it’s not our place to cast judgment on others. And lest anyone out there start quoting the Bible to me, I’ve read through Leviticus enough times, I happen to know that we’re all in trouble for piercing our ears, having tats, and wearing mixed-fabric clothing if you want to get legalistic about it.

Anyhow, I don’t want to point any fingers, since I still consider Date 29 a friend (though one I hope to influence to have a more loving attitude), but here’s some general advice to the guys of the world about some key first impression stuff women are taking a careful look at when we date:

1. Haircut. As in, has he had one recently? And if so, is it decent? Beyond that, is it professional? For example, one guy I dated kept his hair buzzed short. The length was good, but I could tell from the way his neckline followed his hairline, he buzzed it himself, rather than paying a stylist or barber to do it. Know what this says about a guy? CHEAP!!! And if the haircut is bad or nonexistent, the messages we gals read are LAZY, CLUELESS, and/or OBLIVIOUS. Don’t be that guy.

2. Shoes. Call me crazy, but shoes say a lot about a person. You style mavens out there already know this, but I think this is a point that the rest of us just sort of internalize. Ugly shoes again point to cluelessness. Alternately, unfortunate footwear can also be an indication of someone having a really bad sense of style (extrapolate this to their wardrobe and what their residence looks like, both inside and out, and you get the idea about how this isn’t just about shoes). Down the road in a relationship, you’ll have to make a decision: will you put up with his bad taste or try to change it by offering more stylish suggestions? If you choose the latter path, there’s a good chance that you’ll ultimately be accused of being controlling and/or micromanaging your significant other, an argument to which no one wants to be a party.

3. Car. Now, this is a really tricky one–having too nice of a car might say the guy is a spendthrift, or that he has self-image issues, but having an absolutely awful car says he doesn’t really care about looking good or being comfortable (again, this translates to other realms of the guy’s life). On top of what kind of car he drives is the issue of its condition. My ex, for example, drove an expensive sedan, but he kept so much trash in it, I used to say he should open the windows, then have a garbage truck come scoop it up and shake it clean periodically. Yeah, I can be a bitch, but you probably get my point–it was unconscionable how he treated that fine, luxury automobile (which truly was the ultimate driving machine!).

Looking forward, I know God has someone in mind for me. I don’t know who it’s going to be, but three times in a row now, He’s demonstrated His power in delivering guys literally to my doorstep. The first time was with Date 17, the guy from high school who emailed me out of nowhere. The second time was when Date 29 was late to pick me up the other night–while I was walking my dog, a tall, super good-looking, single, age-appropriate neighbor stopped his car in the middle of the road, cut off his cell phone conversation, and jumped out of the car to talk to me. I was like, Wow!!! Not that I think this guy and I have any sort of future potential, but I took it for a message from above, kind of like God was saying to me, This date who’s late? He’s not the one, but I’ve got someone better lined up for you, and he’ll be along shortly, when the time is right. Third, I got a text from a now-divorced mom friend of mine while at church today: she’s dating a wealthy, good-looking guy who has a wealthy, good-looking (and tall!) friend who wants to meet me.

Of course, and then there’s Date 14, as well, texting me out of nowhere. Not sure if he was sent by God or the devil, but I’ll leave you with one guess as to what might happen with him later this afternoon, given that it’s still December and my perfect guy has yet to come along.

Like I’ve said, we all need Jesus.

Date 13.1: Out of Order

Sometimes, I have to write. That’s my disclaimer, just in case my agent happens to pop by to check in on how one of her favorite deadline-deliquent writers happens to be doing in the dating world. Yes, I should be working on edits, and I have been (along with copyediting for hire, since the money’s more immediate), but a girl needs a break every once in awhile.

Anyway, all that said, I was on a date the other night (20.2, which I’ll get to another day), and there was Date 13, sitting at the next table! No doubt, the world is way too small, but the situation was somewhat incriminating. Date 20 could tell I was uncomfortable, so I felt led to gloss over why, specifically, having this particular young stud hang out with his man-posse (probably his gym friends) over yonder made me ill at ease.

So here we go, then, with an examination of the half-truths offered in explanation of the situation:

1. I went out with him once.

“Went out with” is a rather generous way to put it. Actually, what happened was that a girlfriend and I went out for drinks one night at a restaurant bar reputed for its (wealthy) over-40 clientele. While there, none of the silver-haired fellows with whom I’d probably be a better match (since their kids are older, like mine) even glanced in our direction. Two young guys walked into the bar, however, and sat at the table right next to ours.

My girlfriend immediately called the one with the gargantuan set of muscles. Fine by me, I nodded in agreement, since the other guy was hot, too, and a little quirkier, which tends to be my type.

Maybe up close they realized we were a lot older than them or maybe they were just shy, but after ten minutes of their sitting right next to us (there were lots of empty tables–they didn’t have to choose that one) and not saying anything, I made an excuse to strike up conversation. Unfortunately, the ploy I used (inquiring about muscle-guy’s physique, saying my teenage son wants to bulk up but I don’t know what he should be eating) kind of backfired on me, since he wound up being a personal trainer who then wanted my business. No matter, though, because it did the job–my excuse of a question got the four of us talking.

I think I’ve mentioned this girlfriend of mine before. The preacher’s daughter? you might be wondering. Um-hmm. Yeah, that’s her. Anyway, she invited the guys back to her house with us for drinks! They seemed like nice enough guys, but I was still shocked. Because, how did we know they weren’t going to attack, kill, or rob us? We’d never met them before!!! I guess my girlfriend and I were both hammered enough to figure there was safety in numbers, though, because we wound up leaving my car parked near the restaurant, taking off in the quirky guy’s Mercedes for my girlfriend’s hillside custom luxury home.

Once there, we drank, played pool, spilled wine, and started to watch a movie. Muscle-guy kept pulling my girlfriend into the other room to put the moves on her in private, which I guess she rebuffed. In the mean time, I was having a great time playing footsie with the quirky dude (who turned out to be one of the muscle-guy’s personal training clients, as it happened).

His moves thwarted, muscle-guy declared he had to get home, demanding he and the quirky guy immediately leave. “Want to come with us?” the quirky guy asked me.

“Will you be okay if I go?” I asked my girlfriend.

“Please!” she said. “We’re both grown women. Go have some fun.”

So I did.

After we dropped off the petulant muscle-bound guy, Date 13 drove me back to his place. Only 34 years old, he had a head full of gorgeous dark hair, beautiful creamy skin, and that personal trainer he employed? Dude knew his stuff, because Date 13’s bod was rockin’!

I can’t remember if we had sex three or four times, but I do recall how fun it was. Definitely dominant, he kept pinning my hands back, plunging himself into me like he wanted to hurt me. And when he went down on me? Dude was relentless, repeatedly making me cry out with how aggressively he sucked my clit.

Okay–I know I said I wasn’t going to get too graphic here, so I apologize. Basically, I just want to relate the fact that the sex was hot, and I definitely would have been down for more. Date 13 climaxed repeatedly, so I thought he might have shared that opinion, but maybe he had a heart-to-heart with his cat afterward (she was making racket all night, the way my also-Siamese cat does when she wants someone to get lost) and she gave me the thumbs down, since although he accepted my friend request on facebook, he never ended up calling.

2. I’m not sure, but I think he might be on steroids or something.

Here’s where the story gets interesting, in my opinion: the next morning, Date 13 took me out to Starbucks on the way to pick up my car. While in Starbucks, we ran into one of his gym buddies, a majorly hot 50-ish guy of the ilk I wished I were dating (seriously thinking about joining their gym in the future!). The two of them made friendly, casual conversation. I was a little embarrassed, since being with Date 13 so early in the morning was somewhat walk-of-shameish (despite my being dressed in workout clothes, since I’d brought them to my girlfriend’s house and then brought them to Date 13’s when we left together), but whatever. The interaction with this acquaintance made Date 13 seem like a normal, regular, mild-mannered guy.

As we were leaving the Starbucks parking lot, however, a minivan driven by a family approached us going the wrong way according to the shopping center’s signage. The man at the wheel of the Honda Odyssey shrugged an apology, waving for us to pass, clearly indicating he realized he was in the wrong and sorry for any inconvenience. Date 13 rolled down the window of his Mercedes.

“Wrong way, asshole!” he yelled, then sped past the minivan on our way out of the parking lot.

Needless to say, sitting in the front passenger seat, I felt like I wanted to disappear. People make mistakes in parking lots, you know? It’s not that big a deal. The fact that Date 13 had to berate this guy for making a wrong turn seemed like a huge red flag to me. Shocked and befuddled over what had happened that morning, I later asked Date 5 what he thought of Date 13’s parking-lot behavior.

“Maybe he just really needed his coffee,” he said, which made me laugh so hard I think I snorted.

Whatever the case, it was obvious Date 13 probably has some anger issues. Maybe he knows it, and he’s embarrassed over what happened, or maybe he’s just not that into me, so even though he asked me for my number as he was dropping me off, he never had any intention of calling. Hard to say. Whatever the case, I didn’t like the idea of sitting there having a glass of wine, trying to get to know Date 20 while Date 13 lurked in the background with his weight-lifting cronies, so Date 20 and I wound up going inside the restaurant, abandoning the patio to its studmuffin mafia.

Dates 4.2 & 4.3: Hanging with the Anal-Sex Fan Club

I know it’s been awhile since I wrote in chronological order, but I think I was kind of waiting to see how things resolved with Date 4 before detailing the stuff that’s happened between us. Anyway, a few months have passed, so now the time feels right.

That said, considerable time has passed since I last mentioned him. In case you’ve (understandably) forgotten who Date 4 was, he’s the guy who’s super into anal sex, rimming, and spanking me. He’s also kind of a nerdy science guy who I totally get along with on an interpersonal level. Beyond that, he runs marathons, climbs mountains, and takes long hikes and such, so he’s super fit, meaning he doesn’t tire easily in the bedroom. Yes, he’s also blind enough that he keeps his glasses on while having sex, and he occasionally forgets to take off his socks before we get busy, but whatever–I actually think we’re pretty compatible.

Both Dates 4.2 and 4.3 were at my apartment. Because Date 4 and his ex-wife do the “nesting” thing, where their kids always stay in the house and the parent who’s not on duty sleeps elsewhere, he made it clear to me from the beginning that we would never be meeting at his place. That was fine, I assured him, since his coming to me meant less driving on my part and, quite frankly, sheer convenience. However, later on in our dealings with each other, I stopped feeling the convenient aspect of our dates, as I’ll relate below. Anyway, here’s a quick blow-by-blow of our history with each other:

Date 4.2 – On his way to the airport for a business trip, Date 4 makes plans for a quick lunch date with me that we both know isn’t going to involve either of us eating any actual food. With only two hours to spare, we don’t waste any time getting with the program. I go down on him, he goes down on me (front and back), he spanks me (both with his hand and with the belt, leaving marks that last a week), he fingers me (again, front and back), and we have both anal and regular sex. Along the way, we both climax, leaving us two very happy campers. I send him on his way afterward, and off he goes on his business trip.

Date 4.3 – Once again, we make plans to meet for “lunch” at my place. While not quite as frantically paced as our last date, we again have marathon anal sex that leaves me wondering what kind of damage I’m doing to my body. And speaking of damage, because my back had been acting up that week and Date 4 has bragged about being formally trained in massage, after we’re done having sex, I ask him for one. He obliges but seems kind of stingy about it. I’m thinking, Hey, dude–it’s not like I’m asking for much here. How many other 40-something chicks you know who’ll let you ride them anal for over 30 minutes a pop? As he’s leaving, I tell him I’d like to actually go out to lunch with him next time, so our relationship isn’t only about sex. He agrees and promises to take me out on a “real date” next time.

About a month later, Date 4 texts me, asking if I can FaceTime with him, so I do. While talking, we make plans for him to take me out the following day. The next day, however, he never texts, calls, or emails. I text him but receive no response. Because Date 4 had been pretty good about keeping promises to call, text, and see me up to this point, I was kind of worried about him. Did his son have to go to the emergency room? Did one of his parents die? Was there some sort of work emergency that necessitated his flying back to the home office on the East Coast ASAP? But he never told me what happened.

A couple weeks later, he finally texted me again, asking if we could hook up. My reply was terse. I told him how my time is valuable, so if he’s going to make a date with me, I’d appreciate his keeping it or, alternately, letting me know if he needs to break it. Message received loud and clear, he wrote back, not saying anything else.

I kind of wanted to tell him I wasn’t trying to put an end to things, just letting him know how his blowing me off had made me feel, but I didn’t. Instead, I just let it go. Because really, sex with him is a tad much. My sheets get all messed up, I have the runs the next couple days, and there’s no way I can picture being with someone long-term who insists on that much anal. I really, truly liked Date 4, though, so I was left somewhat at a loss by the way things ended between us.

The other day, however, I was trolling my favorite dating website and a new profile with a very familiar face came up. I clicked on it, knowing Date 4 would see I’d checked him out and kind of curious what he’d say about it. Sure enough, he messaged me on the site. Hey, gorgeous! he started off, saying some benign stuff about summer vacation and that he hoped I was well.

Softie that I am, I wrote back, wishing him well in return. At this point, he knows what I want–to be taken out for real, not just taken, period, at home in the bedroom–so if he cares to ask me out and start things over from scratch, I’d be open to the possibility. If that’s too much trouble, all I can say is, Good riddance.

Date 4.1: Let’s Talk about Kink

Now, I realize there are different levels of kinkiness. What some consider tame, others think makes them a wild and crazy guy. For example, Date 2, while we were having sex, kept remarking, “You are so submissive!” (Did he do anything about it, however, other than slap my ass a couple times? No, unfortunately, but I hadn’t been planning on going there with it, so the sex was still rockin’.) Date 3, on the other hand, straight out informed me that he was a little kinky. “Put on your shoes,” he ordered before proceeding to fuck me standing up in front of his mirrored closet doors. Eh, whatever. Not my thing, but I could see it–they were an awfully sexy pair of high-heeled sandals.

Maybe I’m a little blasé about the world of kink, but you have to understand, even my high school boyfriend and I (my first real love, when I was 16 and he was only 15–yikes! I know) had somewhat of a D/s relationship. (Side note: at the beginning of my senior year of high school, this bf dumped me, leaving me emotionally devastated. As I found out later–remember how I mentioned those exes coming out of the woodwork on facebook?–he thought he could do better, that every girl was like me, enjoying sex two-plus hours at a time and more than willing to indulge his fantasies. But guess what? No such luck! Because he’s a total player, I find this shocking. Apparently, though, I’m more unique than he figured, leading him to lobby a quasi-proposal of marriage at me. I told him we’d need to meet in person first, to see if the chemistry between us was still there, but on the inside, maybe I’m immature, but I couldn’t help cuing Nelson-from-The-Simpsons’ voice: HA HA!)

Anyway, Date 4 and I had chatted a little by email regarding our mutual interests in the bedroom. We seemed to be hitting it off, so we made plans to meet at Starbucks for coffee. When I showed up, I recognized him from his photos immediately, but he was little older than I expected. Although his online profile listed him as 45, I’d just been out with a 43-year-old (Date 2), a 42-year-old (Date 3), and my ex-husband is currently 45, so I know what that looks like. This guy was definitely older. Hot in his own unique way (I go for geeks, as you might expect, and he was a complete brainiac, as well as fit, so I was totally onboard with his package), I didn’t have any problem with his potentially being older, but something else gave me pause: his lips were blood-flush red. Because I (very unfortunately) have extensive experience with penile dysfunction, my mind immediately flagged the red lips as being a possible side effect of Viagra.

Maybe I’m wrong, and he just had a sunburn (on his lips!) or whatever, but I was flattered. I thought, At least he thinks I’m hot enough to spend a blue pill on me. Those suckers aren’t cheap! So we chose an isolated table and sat down to talk. As it turned out, he wasn’t 45, he was 49 (or at least that was the age he admitted to, since I have a subscription to one of those snooper services, and there’s a guy by his name who owns property in the same areas he does who’s 54).

After we’d gotten through the conversational niceties, discussing our respective kids, divorces, and professional backgrounds, Date 4 matter-of-factly laid out his intentions. I listened in fascination as he casually explained how he’d like to spank me over his knee, eat both my pussy and my ass, then have both regular and anal sex. “We don’t have to do everything right away,” he assured me, “but I’d really like to spank you today. Shall we go to your place?”

!!!

Yeah, I’ve done some kinky stuff, and I’m probably naïve, but I’m not used to going there with someone I so recently met! And the ass-eating? What was up with that?!? No way I was kissing him after that business. But still–I was curious, so we indeed went back to my place, and it was fun.

Not sure I’d want that much variety every day, every time, but we definitely clicked, and I’ve seen him again. I just need to make sure I have an opportunity to rest in between.