I was at the bondage club on my usual night with a group of friends. I walked out onto the patio to have a cigarette and scope out the leather clad hotties, that’s when I saw him.
Sexy guy with dreadlocks.
I shall call him, Mr. Personality.
We made eye contact and I smiled but it didn’t do the trick. I figured he must have been shy. I put a cigarette in my mouth and clanked my 8 inch heel wearing,whore ass over beside him.
“Can I have a light?” I asked.
“You live around here?” he asked me.
“About 30 miles away, you?”
“Down the street. We should hang out sometime. Are you into art? I have a two tickets to my friends play next weekend, if you want to go.”
“I love art.”
It was a date.
“He invited you to a play? Where is it at?” she asked me.
“Where does he live, is he picking you up?”
“No, he lives in LA, I said I would meet him at the venue.”
“Woa! No, way *****. On a first date the guy always picks you up and you shouldn’t go to another city. He needs to meet you close to home, he could be a serial killer!”
Bella had a point.
The night before our first date my Rasta-Gothian called me to confirm and I broke the news.
“Uh, I really want to hang out but I need to stay close to home. Can we do something in my area instead?”
“Oh, well I promised my friend…well…nothing, yes, I can come your way that would be fine.”
“Awesome, thanks! See you then.”
That next evening I put on some PJ Harvey and blasted it at full volume as I whored myself up. I wigled my fat ass into a short skirt, fish net stockings and red knee-high platform boots. After two hours of slapping the bondo on my face, I saw lights radiate through my bedroom window, I looked outside and it was him.
I slowly crept to the front door and opened it with a giant grin on my face and the sexiest pose I could form.
“Hello there,” I moaned in a sex kitten voice.
Mr. Personality looked at me, then he put his finger to his lips and hushed me. He was on the phone.
I left him there with the door open and went back inside to grab my bag. Once I returned to the porch he was off the phone so I followed him to his car.
“Where do you want to eat?” he asked me.
I gave him the run down of the local joints and he picked one. Aside from my giving directions, we drove in silence. Once we had arrived, he parked and walked inside the restaurant to be seated.
Mr. Personality looked over his menu and we ordered.
He said nothing.
“So, how long have you lived I LA?” I asked
After a moment of silence he responded, “a year.”
I could faintly hear crickets chirping.
“Do you like it?”
Mr. Personality was blankly staring at something behind me. I turned around, there was nothing there.
“Where are you from?” I tried again.
He looked at his watch.
I started to do what I do best and ramble on about how much I love myself and how cool I am but he wasn’t listening.
I shut the hell up.
After what seemed like an eternity the food finally came. We ate without a word. As it turned out Mr, Personality didn’t have one. Once we finished…………
Wait a fucking minute, hold up. I’m SO BORED WRITING THIS STORY that I can’t even think of anything witty to insert, I’m falling asleep!
Anyway, after the stupid dinner Mr. Personality took me to a movie, you can see where this is going, right?
He paid for the tickets and we still had twenty minuets to kill so we sat down on a bench outside of theater 10, he said nothing to me. Sitting there silently he continued to check his phone and watch a blank wall.
I would have asked him to take me home if he hadn’t been so good-looking.
The time passed very slowly. Finally, it was time for the film.
I excused myself probably five times to go to the bathroom just for an excuse to walk around. The movie was 2 hours and 50 minutes long. When it finally ended my Blah-Date turned to me and said,
“That movie sucked. I wanted to leave hours ago.”
I just looked him in the eyes and blinked. I wanted to slug him.
He drove me home. Probably, I fell asleep on the way.
Now this is where I wish I didn’t have anything to write about, I should have called it quits then. But no, his beauty out weighed my brains because I went out with him again a week later.
It was less boring.
Since I was now convinced that my Dead-Locked hunk wasn’t a murderer, I agreed to meet him for a movie at his place. He was an artist himself and as it turned out he lived in a very interesting loft in an even more captivating building. He was actually pretty talented and his art kept me occupied.
We sat on his couch and watched a movie, quietly. Then, it happened.
Rope Head kissed me.
His lips were soft and his breath was sweet. Like the giant slut I am, it didn’t take long before he had me on his bed. He pulled my dress over my head, I tugged off his pants. Once he had sufficiently teased me and I was rearing to go, he asked me the big question.
“Can I put it in your ass?”
I was not that rearing.
“Woa! What? You want to do what?”
“Can I put my dick in your ass. Come on, you will like it, trust me. My ex didn’t like it as first but after a while she learned to love it. You will too!”
Now, I was still only a half giant slut in those days because rear entry was not something I commonly practiced. Actually, I had only done it once before and that was by surprise.
However, Mr. P was hot and he just said the magic words to me, “after a while”.
That’s right, my boring prince was planning on keeping me around!
Why, I wanted nothing more than a serious relationship with someone. I guess if anal sex was what I had to do to get a boyfriend you could count me in!
“Ok,” I said, “but be gentle.”
He rolled me over onto my stomach and then began trying to put his member in my members only club. It hurt.
I braced the head-board.
Then, I screamed, “lube! We need lube.”
Mr. Personality began looking around his room for something to smear on his dread-cock.
That’s when I spotted it, hand soap.
I needn’t explain any further.
Dumbest thing I have ever suggested, to this day.
Just writing this I can feel the sting. I’d rather rub jalapeno in my eye or pour rubbing alcohol in a stab wound.
In tears, I sprinted to his shower and ran water over myself for an hour until the pain became manageable. I drove home sitting on a jacket I had rolled up like a donut.
I farted bubbles for days.
I told myself that it would all be worth it because now I had my very own (mute) man.
I sent Mr. P an email a few days later. We responded back and forth that week but he never mentioned going out again, so I figured I would ask him. We had had sex already, kinda, it was OK for me to start initiating the dates at this point. Plus, he was pretty much already my boyfriend.
“I can’t wait to see you again, Stud,” I emailed, “What are we doing this weekend?”
A few minutes later my phone rang. I looked at my caller ID. It was him!
“Hi,” I said. My voice filled with excitement.
“Hey, *****. I just wanted to call you because I feel I need to explain something to you.”
“Sure,” I said.
How sweet he already had emotions for me. Probably he was going to tell me how I needed to be gentle with his heart. I knew he had just came out of a serious relationship.
“I am not looking for a girlfriend right now, ok?”
For once, I was the silent one.
“Ok,” I responded.
Then it happened, I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Personality started talking. He talked to me for 30 fucking minutes about his family and his school before hanging up.
He never called me again.
Not for year anyway, but that’s another story.
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