and this is why hookers don't kiss
..wings of pastrami part 2
We continued our online flirtation. We never discussed that last text conversation. We kept it light and casual. This I understand. The back and forth dance of seduction, learning each other's predilections and quirks. He's a self-proclaimed romantic. A relationship guy. A guy who likes Disney movies, for God's sake. He refers to sex as 'making love' and talks about how much he wants to kiss me.
I don't like kissing, don't do it often, and suspect I'm not very good at it. It's interesting that I can suck, swallow or fuck a guy that I don't know, but kissing him makes me uncomfortable and kinda grosses me out. And yes, kissing is very personal.
But kiss we did. Our online flirtation came to a head one night and we agreed to meet. Up until the moment he texted the address, I was still wondering if he really was local. On the drive over, I was uncharacteristically nervous. You'd think that going to unfamiliar places to meet strange men, to do naughty things would make me anxious, but I tend to be pretty calm during these assignations. I've learned to trust my instincts which are usually spot-on when it comes to physical danger. They may be spot-on for emotional danger as well, but my heart is a complete idiot and has no compunction about disregarding instincts and going off half cocked.
Which brings us to Aaron. I couldn't make heads or tails of his motives and yet here I was, on my way to meet him face to face for the first time. When he got into my car, I did this thing I do where I seem to be looking at you but really I'm looking through you. Eye contact can be difficult for me sometimes. Plus I didn't want to see that look of disappointment that I occasionally get upon first meets. I'd warned him that I was uglier in person to which he replied, “aren't we all”. In truth, he was cuter in person than he was in his pics. Jerk.
I continued to not look at him as I fidgeted and babbled nervously. He wanted to hold my hand. I was self conscious about my rough, dry hands but he insisted. We chatted about nothing while he held my hand and the rain on the windshield made for a ridiculously romantic setting. I didn't feel a physical chemistry with him as much as a mental one. I suggested we address the elephant in the room and get the inevitable blow job out of the way. He said he wanted to kiss me.
We made out for awhile. I enjoyed kissing him but didn't feel that elusive zingy, swirly sensation (as described in romance novels) that I've been waiting for all my life. As things progressed we decided to move our little party to a more secluded location. We found a dark corner in a nearby parking lot and I was happy to let the oral games begin. I was perfectly happy to suck him off but he wanted to fuck. I had my doubts we could do this in my smallish Toyota, but he was confident, so into the back seat we went. For back-seat sex, it was pretty good. Sure, I could've done without the cramped space, my head banging into the car door, the sauna-like heat (I'd forgotten to crack the windows). At one point early on, while I was blowing him, he said he was getting a bit light-headed (high praise indeed but not my highest; one guy said I made him feel like he was levitating...). We switched from bj to missionary to doggy and I ended up finishing him off with my mouth.
I did my best to redress myself. I may or may not have put my panties on inside-out. I didn't quite know how to take it when he said that “now, I'm feeling on edge...”, echoing my earlier words to him. I thought maybe he was having that male post-sex/escape-hatch syndrome but since he was in my car, couldn't make a graceful escape...? Who knows. It didn't occur to me to ask. Men baffle the hell outa me. I drove back toward his house. He was helpfully telling me where to go to catch the freeway home. Honestly, I wasn't really listening (that's why God invented Google maps). He told me I could let him off and he'd walk the block back to his house. I hate it when guys do that. I take it like they can't wait to get away. Monsoon, rain, tornado...they'll take their chances out in the open. So I pull over and say goodbye.
“Goodbye?”, he says with a slight chuckle.
“What?”, I reply, puzzled.
“Nothing,” says he and gets out of the car.
“Got everything?”, I ask.
“I think so.”
I must've hesitated to drive away because 3 seconds later he peered through the passenger-side window which was still open.
“I think I left my suspenders in here.”
I find them and hold them out to him with a suggestive grin. He takes them from me with a wicked grin of his own...and he's gone.
I wonder if that's the last time I'll ever see him.
END OF PART 2