Three Strikes, He’s Out!

I'll take myself fishing.

I’ll take myself fishing next time. 

A while back when I was twiddling on Tinder and during a time I was in between seeing Big Liar, I swiped right on a man that was in his late 40s. I believe he was 49, to be exact. In his photos, he appeared athletic, he liked boating and a few other things we had in common.

On our first date, we agreed to meet at a boating dock and he was supposed to teach me how to fish. (Previously, Big Liar was supposed to teach me but never followed through.) I found a cheap but decent pole at Walmart, packed a cooler with some food and beer, and dressed very casually in a sundress over a bikini. And I waited for what seemed like hours before he finally said what time we were to actually meet (he had about a 45-minute drive).

I was pleasantly surprised at how much nicer this man looked in person, and he was dressed more for a casual dinner than a fishing date. I could tell we were both nervous, but we seemed to get along fine. We didn’t stay out long, however, because it started to rain. We docked the boat and waited in his truck until the rain subsided, drank some beer and had some really great conversation. Things seemed to be going well. Once the rain stopped, we had to get the boat out. Apparently, he’d left my brand new fishing pole on the dock, and someone had stolen it. I wasn’t too upset, he claimed he’d replace it, and he had to leave to feed his dog.

Date number two was a lunch date when he was on his way somewhere and couldn’t stay long. I have food allergies, so I have to be careful what I eat and drink. Whatever was in the tea I ordered gave me a reaction. I know my body very well, I usually know exactly what it is that is giving me a reaction, and I knew it was something in the tea. It usually takes a while to subside, but in the meantime I sat there feeling panicked.

Then he actually said this: something about my age and am I sure it wasn’t menopause. Ummm what??!!! I looked him straight in the eye and said I’m definitely too young for that, and this is an ALLERGY. I was offended, as I’m sure most women would have been. He had to leave, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there, because I felt like shit.

The last “date” went like this: He was on his way home from work, called me to hang out. I said he’s welcome to stop by my house and have a beer. Now this is in the middle of the summer in 90+ degree weather. I keep my A/C and fans on, but I don’t need it to be 60 degrees to be comfortable. He was dressed in clothes made for fall, and I could tell he was hot. I looked at him and realized I’m not even attracted to this guy anymore. We’d never even kissed, his eyes were too close together, and there’s just something about him that I can’t pinpoint that I just don’t jive with. He didn’t stay long, and as he’s leaving he says, “You’re house is hot, by the way.”

That was it for me. I thought to myself, fuck you, fuck your insults, and you never even replaced my fishing pole as promised. Fuck you.

I deleted his number out of my phone. He apologized for saying my house was hot. I ignored him, because it wasn’t half as bad as assuming I’m at the age of menopause. Every so often he would send a pic of himself on his boat, like I gave a damn. I’m sure he’s still on Tinder meeting new women to insult.

Tattooed Cub – Part 2

I loved when he buried his face here.

I loved when he buried his face here.

Tattooed Cub – Part 1

Tattooed Cub was the first (and only) cub of my time to seriously hang out with me. We never went on any actual “dates”, and I always hosted, but it was nice to have someone to have a meal with, watch a movie with, or (of course) make out with. We lasted off and on for a few months, but he seemed really unreliable, which ruined it. He worked a lot, which was great, but every time he’d make plans, he’d either have to cancel, or he’d be so late I was ready to go to sleep. A few times his excuse was that he’d fallen asleep. I began to wonder if it was more than just work keeping him busy. It got to the point that I had to tell him I was no longer going to make plans with him if he was going to stand me up. That was pretty much the end of that.

Every few months, Tattooed Cub sends me a text asking how I am and telling me how much I turn him on. But… BUT!!! I noticed he was obviously dating someone, then blowing me off, then coming back to me. That doesn’t exactly work for me. He has a girlfriend now, and although I’d love to hang out with him, I’m not going to be “that woman” shagging taken men on the side. But I still do get wet thinking about the fun we had while it lasted. 😉

 

 

Tattooed Cub – Pt. 1

I straddled him on my cougar couch.

I straddled him on my cougar couch.

Is there such a thing as a tattoo fetish? Because tattooed men really fucking turn me on. Big time!

A few years ago when I was newly single, I got onto Tinder and started swiping mostly to the left. One of the few right swipes included a cutie that was heavily tattooed, had a motorcycle (woo hoo!), and seemed like he had his shit together for his age. He was 26, a war veteran, and had just gone through a divorce. He also had one of those long beards that I wasn’t too fond of at the time, but I quickly got over that.

We communicated for a bit and decided to meet. When Tattooed Cub showed up, I wasn’t expecting him to be just about the same height as me, but I blew that off, because he had sweet blue eyes, and he was in pretty good shape. And those tattoos were making me wet!

We had a few drinks and ended up on my infamous make-out cougar couch, kissing passionately. I think he was a bit nervous, so I took the lead with my cat-like reflexes, pawing at his chest and pulling off his shirt. Da-damn! More tats! I was about to cum in my silky black thong just looking at them. I knew I loved tatted men, but I hadn’t realized how much tattoos turned me on like this. I wanted to maul him.

Wearing a skirt, I straddled him on the couch and grinded my hips against him. He unbuttoned my shirt and started feeling my tits, taking off my bra, sucking on my nipples. I pressed them into his face, his beard softly tickling me. I continued grinding on him harder, feeling his hard dick throbbing in his jeans.

We were getting sweaty, and the small couch wasn’t going to work for what was about to come (no pun intended), so I decided it was time to relocate into my air-conditioned bedroom. Tattooed Cub lifted my skirt and pulled off my thong. His soft beard tickled as he kissed up my legs and between my thighs, which actually felt nice. His tongue made its way to my wet pussy, circling around my clit, teasing me and sucking me. I was so turned on by him and his tattoos… I just wanted him inside of me.

Reaching down, I unzipped his jeans and pulled out his dick. It was a nice average length and girth, so I knew it could pleasure me without hurting me. I stuck his dick in my mouth and deep-throated for a few minutes. Knowing he was about to cum, I stopped and got on top of him like I was a cougar attacking her prey. I held his hands down and fucked him fast and hard. It only took a few minutes before we both came at the same time. All the while, I was staring at his tattoos, because they made me cum harder.

Tattooed Cub and I lay in my bed for a while sweaty and satisfied. I knew he wanted to leave, which was fine with me, because we both had to be up early the following day. It wouldn’t be our last time together… and I decided it was time for me to get more of my own tattoos.

Forgotten Hookups

Sexting my legs

Sexting my legs

What a weird weekend! Maybe it’s the full moon or something – but I heard from several different guys I hadn’t heard from in a LONG time. My phone was dinging with text messages with both potential and old hookups, but I simply wasn’t interested in any of them.

One was from a 20-something guy I’d met a few years ago after a night of drinking. I’ll just refer to him as Mr. Bush, because I had to tell him to trim that shit up. We stayed in touch for quite some time, but I hadn’t heard from him since last summer. Never bothered to say hello, how are you, kiss my ass, nothing… but proceeded to send me a random text wanting to hook up – as if I’ve spent the last year of my life waiting for him (**chuckles**). Of course, by now his number is no longer in my phone, so I’m like who’s this? Not only does he tell me, but he also includes – get this – a mostly limp dick pic and his unshaved bush. I happened to be out with my friends, so I shared the pic with them for some great laughs and wtf faces. I told Mr. Bush I wasn’t available, he begged and begged, and I ignored him. Then he actually called me (gasp!), and I could tell he’d been drinking, which is probably the only reason I was hearing from him. I not-so-politely told him to go fuck himself and haven’t heard from him since.

A 30-something guy that I’d met on Tinder two years ago also sent me a text wanting to sext. I will refer to him as Banana Dick, because his dick was long and curved like a banana. Again, I had no idea who it was, because I do not keep numbers for long. Who’s this?

Him: “####, we met on tinder and fucked twice”.

Seriously, this was a few years ago, and I’ve had my fair share of forgotten hookups since. Once I established who he was, I reminded him we only fucked once (he was too controlling and into himself for me to want to do it again). He said we fucked twice the same night. Semantics. He was passing thru my city, thought of me, and got horny. Flattering. He wanted me to send him pics, so I just sent him a pic of my legs. He wanted more, and I wasn’t falling for it. Told me how horny he was thinking about me. Then he BEGGED me to call him so he could hear my voice, because it would make him get off faster. I’m sitting there thinking WTF?!! Where do these guys get off thinking I’m just here and available without any life whatsoever waiting on them for years? Fucking narcissists. I made the excuse that I had to charge my phone. He was so desperate, it made me giggle that I had control of this little bitch.

Another forgotten hookup wasn’t actually forgotten completely. I’d seen him on a dating site a few years ago and discovered he’d never left it. He contacted me begging to hang out again, and then I remembered why I wasn’t interested. Although he had beautiful mesmerizing eyes, his breath was terrible and the sex wasn’t enough to die for. Plus, he lives with his mom. Three strikes. No thanks.