Actual Casual Sex, Part One

After my week of phone adventures with The Coach, I guess I decided to play a little more like he plays. (Or I guess, the way he looks like he plays, I really don’t know his life!) I switched my very sensible 37-57 settings on Bumble to a more playful 26-57. I stopped automatically swiping left on anybody who looks like he goes to the gym a lot. I realized (!!!!!) that dating apps could just be for looking at cute people instead of steadfastly looking for The Right One. I slutted up my opening lines by a little bit, which means a lot of kissy-talk and emojis that involve hearts because! If they’re scared of hearts they could just not say hi back!

Note to self: They are NOT afraid of emoji-hearts. What have I even been doing with my life?

It is a whole. New. WORLD in my inbox now. Which was good because Friday night I was antsy, and I was (for basically no reason, it turns out) trying not to text The Coach, and I was trying to just read my library book but it was in my phone where all those guys were.

There were a few dating-y guys in the mix, but when Casual Guy was like “What are you doing right now?” I didn’t tell him about the library book I was trying to read or about looking for a Real Relationship. I didn’t even ask if he was allergic to cats (no) and if he was vaccinated (yes) until he was already on the way.

(Let me just stop and give credit to The Coach, because he could have said he was fully vaccinated too and been done with me like two weeks ago.) (I mean, kind of a low bar, but being a good citizen of both Covid and sex is superhot.)

I didn’t believe that Casual Guy would come, or that he would like me (well) or that he would look the way he looked in his picture. He did show up and he WAs beautiful. He was dark-skinned, dressed dapperly, and had pretty that’s-how-they-get-you eyes. A softly West Indies accent. A round tummy but/and jacked arms. (I believe that is the first time I’ve described someone using the word “jacked” on this blog and it sort of makes me feel one hundred years old, but it IS the right word.)

I poured us some wine. My supersweet lesson-planning Pink Moscato was the only one I had cold but it didn’t matter because nobody drank any wine.

OH MY GOODNESS I DID NOT EVEN STOP TO PUT MUSIC ON! Scream emoji!

He had told me to put on something sexy for him and I, because I am lazy and it was all-the-way after ten already, decided that meant cute PJs, a lacy purple bra, and no underpants. No things were shaved or even trimmed. He could not have given less of a fuck.

I thought it was really sweet that he didn’t want to move my cat from her spot on the couch. I scooted the cat over and sat as close to Casual Guy as I could without touching. I thought there would be…banter? Time to drink wine and settle in a little bit?

Instead he was like, oh, you’re shy? Let me help you. He took my hand and put it on his knee. He gently put one hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss as the other hand went right up my pajama-top, roughly (but not too roughly) pulling my nipple up and out. OHboy, the lace and nipple and his rough hand gathering me up with expert pressure, that’ll stick with me. I’ll picture and feel it for so many alone-times to come. He put my nipple in his mouth and sucked sweetly. I groaned and lay back, disrupting the cat.

“I mean, I do have a bed…”

My Ass Is Smitten With Mister Hazel Eyes, Part One: Spanked in a Stairwell

I feel really vulnerable writing this. Though it may not seem so from the title, last night was the first non-Sweetie date of my poly career that was truly romantic. I bonded with him. I felt cathexis. I got attached, and with that attachment comes a terrible, sad fear that he’ll go away now. (Which, okay, is made worse because I just watched the Gilmore Girls episode where Luke and Lorelai break up.) Liking him makes me feel like I’ve got to be ready to let him go, which is one of my central issues to overcome. So here goes.

Mister Hazel Eyes surprised me with tickets to see Jane’s Addiction and Die Antwoord. He bought the tickets before I’d even said I would go, which really knocked my socks off. Also, because he is sweet in a rather odd way, he asked if I would rather take the tickets and go with Sweetie: awww. But of course I was over the moon to go with him. Jane’s Addiction was my favorite band when I was a teenager, and I’d never gotten to see them. So it was a pretty big deal.

He wanted to meet him at his work, in one of the skyscrapers downtown. I stood in the fancy grey-marble lobby looking decidedly unbusinesslike in my black dress and sneakers, pigtails and spiked collar. I felt a little hookerish waiting there for him, but not unpleasantly so. When he came down, he said I looked great, and so did he, in the standard rock-boy bowling shirt and boots. He presented me with the tickets and I said “That right there? That’s some second base for you.” and he smiled.

He said he had to grab something from his car before we went to dinner, but I’m pretty sure he just wanted to spend some quality makeout time with me in the parking garage elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he crushed me against the wall and kissed me, yanking my pigtails and running his hands lightly over the front of my dress. I was more than happy to let him. I was so ready for him to be there. I’d been fantasizing pretty much non-stop about him feeling me up. (Also about bearing myself to him, ohboy, but we haven’t made it there yet…) I wish there’d have been hands inside my bra, but what can you do. Eventually he had to stop pushing buttons and get out.

On the way back down there were people in the elevator, so we took the stairs. In the stairwell, he kissed me some more, and when I was sure no one was coming I said “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” and bent over. My feet were on the landing, my ass was stuck out towards him, my arms draped up the metal railing. If it hadn’t been that-time-of-the-month, I would have pulled the back of my skirt up, too.

He hesitated for a moment but then started stroking my ass gently and thoughtfully. Then he pulled his hand back and smacked, full and strong, pushing the breath out of my lungs and into a laugh that echoed up and down the stairs. I looked down at the stairs spiraling down four levels and ooof, oh my goodness, he spanked me a few more times, and I laughed and blushed and signed.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have been spanked by some experts, but boy does his guy have a talent.

I stood to face him again and he pulled my face into a kiss. With no warning, he grabbed both my nipples and squeezed, just like he owned the place. I have already revisited that moment a few times during personal time. Fucking swoon, sheesh. Nonetheless, I pulled his hands down to my waist and said “Um, tickets…”

We dawdled around making out and getting dinner. Over Chinese, we made some more plans. (He likes eluding to the fact that plan-making turns me on. He gets the Good Listener badge.) We’re going to go to the next rope party, and he assures me he’ll take a crack at learning the knots. (!) The only part of the conversation that worried me is that he says that he doesn’t feel jealous of me being with Sweetie, he would feel jealous of another guy. Seems like there might have to be a little negotiation there. Jealousy won’t bother me, unless it translates to him going away like it did with Bill.

For someone to be close to me, they have to be good at concerts, and MHE totally is. He was even thoughtful enough to pick up some pastries and water in case we got hungry after the show. I think this was the first time I’ve had actual seats to a show, so that I didn’t have to get there early and jockey for general admission space. Which is a good thing, because there were certainly some car-shenanigans to be had.

If you’re thinking that I have a strange definition of romance, you’re right, but it’s coming, I promise.

Next: Getting spanked in another parking lot.