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This is a story of casual, unprotected sex, and is a work of fiction. In real life, use a condom, damnit! Unwanted babies, HIV and all sorts of lesser sexual diseases await the idiot who "dips his wick" or "rides the rod" without protection.
Author's Note: This may or may not be based on a true story that may or may not have been emailed to me.
I sat on the toilet, trying to get his cum out of me. How could I let this happen? I was going to get pregnant!
A couple of months previous...
I finished my profile on PlentyOfCupid and reviewed it: Female, 35 years old, of average build, brunette, no kids, doesn't smoke, looking for a short- or long-term relationship with a 30-40 year old male. Hobbies: camping, card games, movies.
God, I hated trying to sum myself up with a page of words. It was like writing up a resume to apply for a job, but at least most bad jobs didn't follow you home, nor did they turn you down based on your looks. Well, at least in my line of work (veterinary assistant).
I saved the page and started perusing compatible profiles. Too short ... has kids ... too pretty (yes, that's a thing) ... this one is ... what the fuck? The guy's profile picture was a photograph of a goose that had been disemboweled. Ugh.
I shut the computer down and went to bed.
I woke up in the morning ... alone, of course. My boyfriend of two years had received a job offer to move to Ireland, of all places, and did not take me with him. Four months had passed, and given that I wasn't a very social person I had been single that entire time and I was getting pretty damn horny!
I checked my email. There was a message from a guy who wanted to tie me up and stick a feather up my ass. I considered it for a moment before deleting it. Ugh.
Over the next few weeks I would go out with the occasional guy who wasn't a creep over the PoC messaging, but we never seemed to hit it off. The messages I received ranged from the crass ("Hey baby, wanna suck my dick?") to actual poetry, but by the time I messaged that last one back he had already closed his account. The good ones went fast.
Another week went by and I was getting pretty antsy. After being used to almost daily sex, going cold turkey was not enjoyable. I had to replace the batteries in my vibe every couple of weeks!
Finally, I spotted "PaleWriter", a 39-year-old guy who looked to be in pretty good shape, was attractive (but not too attractive), and was in the next town over, where I worked. Also, no kids!
I stalked his profile for a bit before deciding to make the first move myself. But what to type? "Hey, wanna fuck?" My nethers said yes but my brain said no. "What's your favorite movie?" Lame.
Finally, I just quickly typed, "Great smile" and hit Send. I instantly regretted that. What the hell was I thinking? Great smile? Ugh.
The thing about online dating is that you don't know when someone will get back to you. Some people check their messages a lot, and some not so much. I kept the site up on the screen and went and fixed myself some dinner.
After eating I found that the guy had replied! "Thanks!" he said, "I like your smile too. Where was that picture taken?"
My main pic was a selfie from when I had visited Europe. I had really enjoyed myself while I was there so it was a genuine smile and that pic was my favorite. I replied with the details, asking some more about him.
Over the next couple of days we exchanged a dozen messages. He wasn't much of a camper but he did like card games, and who doesn't like movies? He had no pets but he did like cats, and I had a cat!
It wasn't love at first sight, but it looked promising. I suggested we meet at a local coffee shop the next day. Ladies, always meet an Internet date for the first time in a public place!
I recognized him as he pulled into the parking lot driving a blue Dodge Caliber. As he got out of his car I called to him and he paused as his eyes took in all of me.
He was taller than I thought he'd be, and almost certainly I was shorter than he expected ... I'd heard that a lot from the men I met online, as my profile pic only showed my face and shoulders. I didn't lie about having an average build, but my 5'2 frame made me look ... squatter? ... than a taller woman with the same measurements. The fact that I had large boobs didn't help.
However, his face lit up with that great smile and he called my name in greeting. We went into the coffee shop and chatted for a bit.
Again, we didn't hit it off famously, but it wasn't bad either. After a bit he suggested going for a walk around a local park and I agreed. I felt pretty comfortable with him by that point, so I took a chance.
We chatted some more on the walk. He had a good sense of humor, though corny. We liked some of the same movies, and we suggested some of our favorites to each other.
Soon we were back at our cars. I hadn't felt "the spark" with him so I said good night. He looked disappointed but took it graciously.
Another week went by and the pickings were slim. Too far away ... bald ... five dogs?! Ugh.
Finally, I dropped PaleWriter a line. Would he like to go to a movie?
We watched an action thriller but he didn't try to put his arm around my shoulders or cop a feel in the dark theater. We chatted for a bit and once he dropped me off at my car I said goodnight and headed home. Another so-so date; not bad, but not good either.
Another week of disappointments (including a guy who looked absolutely nothing like his profile pic meeting me for coffee and proceeding to ignore me while texting) left me extremely frustrated. I messaged PaleWriter again. Dinner at my place?
Things went better this time. He loved my lasagna and my kitty Tiger liked him. We played some gin rummy and watched some TV, but still no spark. I had decided that after the show ended I would ask him to go home and then I would go to bed, alone once again.
Then I saw it: a dark movement along the baseboards near the TV. A mouse! Where was Tiger? Nowhere to be seen, of course.
PaleWriter hadn't seen the mouse yet, but had turned toward me when I stiffened. He followed my gaze and...
... and the mouse charged! Or at least it headed in our general direction. I screamed, "Eee!"
PaleWriter was up in a flash, grabbing the candy tin from the side table, upturning it so its contents fell onto the floor, and slamming the container over top of the rodent. It was trapped!
"Do you have something flat that won't bend?" he asked. After a few moments I could move again and grabbed my cutting board from the kitchen. He carefully tipped the tin a little, slipped the cutting board under the slight gap, and then slid it forward until the lip of the upside down tin was fully covered by the board. He then lifted the whole thing up (making me go "Eee" again) and took it over to the back door. I opened it up and he went outside.
I closed the door behind him and watched through the window. He twisted and then spun around, tilting the top of the tin toward him as he did and sending the mouse flying out of my yard with centrifugal force!
When he got back in the house I jumped him.
PaleWriter was definitely a lot better in bed than at dates. He went down on me, juicing me up nicely before he slid a condom onto his nice 7" cock and fucked me silly with it. I didn't cum -- I usually don't, requiring a lot of clitoral stimulation -- but it felt good.
After that he came over pretty much every day and we fucked every time. After a few days he mentioned that he had had a vasectomy so we really didn't need to use condoms, but he understood that I didn't know him that well so he'd continue to use them for as long as I wanted. I appreciated that.
I let him know that we weren't really a good match but we could have fun for a while. He seemed okay with that ... what guy wouldn't?
.... There is more of this story ...