FRIDAY
4pm: After going through a breakup, I did what any normal 29-year-old would do: I decided to travel across the country on my own. I’ve always dated one person at a time. On my first stop, I’ve decided to try… not doing that.
I check Bumble and a Military Guy with the most insanely light blue eyes and cheekbones that have more structure than my entire life has messaged me. He asks if we can meet up after I get out of work at 5pm and before he goes to a work event at 7pm. I text cyber Dom—a guy from OKCupid I video chat with from time to time—that I have a date tonight. He asks to tell me the details when I get back. He gets off to me telling him about the dates I go on.
5:30pm: Traffic is bad, so MG is running late. He is apologetic, but I’m happy it gave me the time to fold laundry. I text him, “Will you be able to make your work event in time? I feel bad. We can totally do another time!” He writes back, “I’ll worry about me. I want to see you.” Well, okay then.
I tell him I’m still in my work clothes: a cropped tee and ripped jeans with my belly on full display. He writes back, “I don’t body-shame so you do you.” As a feminist, hearing that a man doesn’t body-shame is a HUGE turn-on, so I joke that what he just said made me wet.
He writes back, “I’ll worry about me. I want to see you.” Well, okay then.
5:45pm: MG and I meet at the café and he is more gorgeous in person. We grab lattes and head to a nearby park. The conversation is interesting, but I can’t read his face at ALL. So I’m shocked when he asks me out of nowhere, “Can I kiss you on this park bench?” It’s the best kiss of my life. I actually pull back and say, “Wow. Can we do that again?” I feel like fanning myself afterwards. I tell him let’s cut the shit and go back to his place.
7pm: Two fatal mistakes: he puts on Amy Winehouse to have sex to (who DOES that??) and JUST as I’m about to come from riding him, he loses his erection. Afterwards, he admits he feels bad he wasn’t able to make me come. I tell him it’s fine. I blame Amy Winehouse.
11pm: I realize I completely forgot to eat dinner, so I order Thai takeout, smoke a bowl, and watch some TV before falling asleep. Sorry, cyber Dom.
SATURDAY
12pm: I wake up late and get ready for my date tonight with The Fighter, who I’ve been on a date with before. The sex was incredible, so I’m excited to see him again. We have tickets to the symphony. I shave my legs and blowdry my hair. Before I leave, I ask cyber Dom to get me worked up. I tell him about my last encounter with The Fighter. Our chat leaves me wet and throbbing.
6pm: The Fighter picks out a Mexican restaurant for dinner, which is an odd choice considering we both know what will happen later. I forgot how attractive he is.
On the walk over to the symphony, we have some edible marijuana. Watching the symphony high is amazing. He puts his arm around me while we watch the concert and when he rubs my shoulder a bit, my entire body is on fire. I’m itching to take him home.
10pm: After the concert we head back to my friend’s place that I’m housesitting. Soon his hands are under my shirt and we’re making out.
11pm: He undresses me and when he sees my peekaboo bra he exclaims, “That’s cute!” We both laugh. Yeah, that’s right, buddy, I brought my A-game. He lifts me up by the back of my thighs so that my legs are wrapped around him and then lays me down on the bed—that was a move he did last time that I loved so I’m glad he did it again, to be honest.
The thing about his weed is that it’s so good that every touch feels eye-rollingly good. We make out on the bed—him naked and me only in that bra. He asks, “Do you want me to eat that pussy?” If he does it as well as he did last time, I’m in. I give an emphatic yes.
He goes down on me and when I come, it’s very intense, probably because of the weed. My orgasm lasts about forty-five seconds and only ends because I decide it ends. It’s insane. I can tell The Fighter LOVES it. When he’s done, he says, “Take that bra off right now.” It sends shivers down my spine. I comply.
He fucks me in missionary and I tell him I want him to come. He does. He asks what I want to do next and I tell him I want to blow him. I am determined to give him the same kind of orgasm from oral that he just did for me.
1am: Mission accomplished.
I can tell The Fighter LOVES it. When he’s done, he says, “Take that bra off right now.” It sends shivers down my spine. I comply.
SUNDAY:
8am: When we wake up the next morning, The Fighter’s in the bathroom getting ready for early morning practice he told me about. He comes into the bedroom to say goodbye and asks for a kiss. I laugh and say I have horrible morning breath. “I don’t care,” he says. I melt.
My friend that I’m housesitting for is coming home today, so I make sure to strip the bed and put on clean sheets, tidy up the place, and buy her a plant and a bag of chocolate peanut butter cups. I leave her a note that says, “Thanks for lending me your fuck palace.”
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