Smitten with Him

grown-up stuff happens here sometimes


on August 9, 2016


Last Tuesday night I went on a “Tinder date”.

I was pretty sure it was only supposed to be a one-night stand, but that’s what Dreamboat was supposed to be and now he’s planning our long-term future together (still!).

This guy seemed okay from our brief Tinder conversations. My standard for that is: keep it brief and still be conversational; use some wit and we should be golden.

It’s pretty easy to tell if I’ll have any chemistry with someone based on this Initial Intelligence Interaction.

We agreed to meet at his place.

I made a joke about how I could be an axe-murderer or something and he said, “I never thought of that. You aren’t, right?”

Amusing. We bantered and set up a meeting at his place, 7PM, Tuesday evening.

I asked if I needed to bring anything. “No, but thank you for asking.”

When I arrived at his place, I knocked on the door. He opened it and greeted me in his towel.

Only his towel.

Nice! That answered my one-night stand question.

“It appears I might be a bit overdressed,” I joked.

“Sorry, I just got home about 20 minutes ago and wanted to clean up quick before you got here. I didn’t expect you right at 7 o’clock.” He leaned in to kiss me and said, “You look very nice.”

“Thank you. I can go out and come back if that would make you more comfortable,” I offered with a big, fat grin on my face.

“Oh, no! Stay. Sit down, turn on the TV or something. I’ll be finished in just a minute.”

I sat down, still grinning. He had a bit more body hair than I prefer, but I could only see his chest, arms and calves, and they were all nice so I reserved my judgement on his nether-regions.

We bantered a bit more, with him in the bedroom, until he emerged in a pair of jeans and said, “Is this okay or would you be more comfortable if I put on a shirt?”

“No. This is perfectly alright. I’ve already seen you in less…”

He sat down next to me on the couch and we talked about our jobs, interests, recent fun things… It wasn’t long before he leaned over to kiss me and started fondling my breasts.

It felt nice. He wasn’t a particularly good kisser, but his lips were soft; they might feel good someplace else πŸ˜‰

Our clothes came off in a matter of minutes. And, I was right, his soft, wet lips felt very nice on my soft, wet pussy lips.

Unfortunately that didn’t last as long as I would have liked (it rarely does *sigh*) and he was leading me into his bedroom where it was my turn to work my oral magic on his (not-too-hairy) regular-sized cock.

It fit well in my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat without hurting too much. Then, he asked me to lick his asshole and stick my tongue in.

I need practice, so I went in hoping he cleaned that spot extra well in the shower, and he had (whew!).

He was very vocal. It’s fair to say that I have never been with a man who spoke so much before, during and after sex. It was almost constant.

I climbed on top and rode him for a few minutes until he pulled out and came all over the both of us. We took a second to recover, I grabbed a towel and he went in to take a shower.

Twice now, I have overstayed my welcome while a man was in the shower. The first time was with Mr. AM at the end of a rather badly-timed hookup and the second was with this guy I ‘named’ Rock Star. So, while he cleaned up, I debated whether or not I should get dressed and hot-foot it out of there.

It turns out that deciding to stay was, again, the wrong decision.

But for totally different reasons.

We talked a little more before our next go-’round. He told me some benign things about his family. He asked about my P.S. tattoo, so I told him. Which prompted a discussion about his ex-girlfriend from Canada who is 16 years his senior.

It was interesting conversation, per se.

Then, he told me he wanted to be in my ass.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Just a sec,” I said. “I need to get my lube.” (Which I brought because I just fucking knew I would encounter this scenario.)

A few seconds later, I was back with the lube and started applying it (very liberally) to that other, unlubricated, hole. He wanted me to be on top again (which, in retrospect, I think is better because I could control the penetration and speed).

He was sweet and gentle and reminded me to relax and take it slow more than a few times. His voice was soothing and we actually talked all the way through it. It was almost pleasant and I kept thinking, ‘maybe I need more experience with this butt sex thing before I decide I totally hate it.

Before long, he’d pulled out again and was jacking his dick off to ecstasy-land. This time, much quicker to get into the shower and clean off afterward.

I REALLY should have left during his second shower.

But instead, because things seemed to be more comfortable and intimate with him than earlier, I decided to stay a while longer.

Total mistake!

Apparently, the intimacy we shared physically meant he could open up and tell me all his family issues.

Let me sum up for you:

He was born in Pakistan, has 1 brother and 2 sisters. He’s the baby; never been married or had children. His family moved to Florida when he was a young child and lived in the US most of his life.

While they lived in Florida, his mother underwent some radiation therapy for a brain tumor she apparently didn’t have. It left a huge amount of scar tissue which caused irreparable brain damage. She deteriorated quickly after that.

10 years ago he moved to Canada (for whatever reason) and his parents moved back to Pakistan.

While living in Canada, he met the love of his life. It did not end well. Also, his father hired a nursemaid for his mother. His father quickly “fell in love” with the nursemaid and married her (“She’s a gold-digger who’s stolen our inheritance”, he said. “Now, none of us will get any of the money.”)

The drama continues with him and his siblings not wanting to take care of their invalid mother and the poor woman dying over there with no one but an (apparently) emotionally and physically abusive, philandering husband and the nursemaid/2nd wife who was fucking the (still not ex-)husband.

Before I managed to escape (at almost 11PM. Remember, I got there at 7PM. Maybe 30 minutes were actually spent fucking), he asked my advice on whether or not he should have his mother’s body exhumed and brought back to the US to be buried here.

“Oh my goodness, have you seen the time! I have to get home?!”


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5 responses to “T.M.I.

  1. Just wanna say Lol! and Sigh! πŸ™‚

  2. BallsyBilly says:

    Well, if that wasn’t just a comedy of errors πŸ˜‰ Well at least you got your cookies, we hope ?? πŸ™‚
    Mercy woman ❀

Talk to me :-)

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