First Date

I promised you tales of my past sexual exploits and to start off I thought I might tell you about the time I gatecrashed a first date while out for a drink with a friend and ended up getting fucked.

I used to love a good night out but I’ve always hated the post work Friday night crush that spills into every available space in and around a pub. I used to get round it by having very sharp elbows and a total and utter lack of shame about standing so close to people leaving their table I practically slid over their knees as they stood up to grab their still warm seats.

It was inevitable this would catch up with me at some point and so it happened in that in a favoured pub in Shoreditch shortly after settling down with a close friend and a bottle of white wine one Friday night, a guy asked if he and the woman he was with could share the table and just sat himself down before we say no.

It was exactly the kind of arrogant bullshit that goes straight to my cunt if the guy is handsome enough and this guy was a knock out. Tall and dark with cheekbones you could cut yourself on and that look of barely suppressed filth. No wonder he was on a date.

I was drinking my wine and listening to my friend’s exploits with an investment banker she was dating at the time while enjoying the company and gradually I became aware that our neighbours were not having such a good time. Despite being squashed in close enough to feel each other breathe they were on two different dates.

She seemed to be on the kind of date that is auditioning for a boyfriend as she ticked off each relevant topic of career, five year plans, kids and what to call their first Labrador. He was responding to each intro with an attempt to flirt and create some kind of light hearted rapport that was tanking each time. It was a mismatched car crash neither of them was enjoying and I was fascinated.

I think he must have sensed my interest because he seemed to stop focusing quite as much on her and start to address his responses more generally to the table as if appreciating an audience. His date surprisingly did not feel the same way to begin with but as their tension approached actual argument she seemed to hope she could get two women on her side and gang up on him.

She certainly got my friend onboard almost immediately and with in minutes they were chatting like long lost friends leaving me to talk to him. And I was very receptive to his flirting which as soon as his date realised made her much more interested in him and plunged the table into a different sense of tension.

Being British, their answer to that was to buy more drinks and a second bottle of wine appeared on our table for my friend and I only for my new found frenemy to pull the ‘oh we must be somewhere else’ trick about twenty minutes later counting on the fact we’d stay where we were drinking free booze and whisk her date away before he could flirt further with me.

She hadn’t counted on me being just past the point of sober to behave and him having sneaked a beermat with his phone number onto the table before he left. I had texted him before she must have decided what they were doing next. His reply was prompt and to the point telling me to meet him in the Holiday Inn nearby in an hour.

My friend was oblivious to this all and my excuses for saying I was going home early for once on a Friday night and insisting on waiting with me at the bus stop before walking round the corner to her house. I had actually board the bus to get rid of her and go two stops down the road before doubling back to the hotel.

I felt like a fucking idiot when I was just on time and he wasn’t with no sign in the next ten minutes in bar or reception. I was debating whether to text him passive aggressively for embarrassing  me or slink away and sober up. I was going with the second option when three digits appeared on my phone.

I was up the stairs and standing outside the hotel room seeing the door ajar before it occurred to me that curiosity is said to kill the cat. But I was certainly thinking only with my pussy when I pushed the door open to find him standing there completely naked and considerably cockier than he had even seemed in the pub.

He didn’t have to tell me to get on my knees. The next thing I knew I had my back pressed up against the closed door with his cock in my mouth too distracted to care if he was a serial killer or not only paying attention to my increasingly wet cunt.

He was certainly arrogant enough to make it all about himself first, stopping and backing away from me each time I hit the kind of stride on his cock that might make him come so that I had to crawl across the floor toward him to be allowed to start sucking him again.

I had got as far as the bed when he decided to pay me attention by flipping me onto it face first and pulling my jeans off and pressing his cock against my still clothed cunt so I ground against him until I was clearly desperate for him to fuck me

For a man who’d had his cock sucked to the point of orgasm repeatedly he fucked me hard and intensely until I came round him and then he pushed my face hard into the bed by my hair so my make up smudged as my eyes ran and I squirmed under him as he came into me for what felt like forever.

I was still face first in the bed legs hanging over the edge when he pulled my panties back into place and started threading my foot back into my jeans. Between being tipsy, fucked senseless and enjoying the powerlessness he’d created in me, I didn’t fight it letting him dress me and pull me to my feet and point me back towards the door where my coat and bag were and steer me out into the corridor.

I don’t remember either of us exchanging a single word and I was walking through reception looking exactly like I’d been fucked stupid and sent away again within an hour of arriving. I was too amused by how much his actual date would have freaked out his plans for the evening had been while I had embraced every inch of it…

First Date

One thought on “First Date

  1. […] And it suddenly occurred to me that not only could they still, thanks to the wonders of smartphones, read my blog if they were killing time in an airport lounge but that it hadn’t even entered my head how either of them might feel about reading posts I’ve started writing about other people I’ve fucked. […]

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