[FM] I [22F] left a blind date with a “nice boy” to have hot sex with the “bad boy” bartender [31M]

When I graduated from college, I moved to a city a few hours from my hometown that has a thriving Jewish population. I love my heritage, but it has never been a top priority of mine to find a community of Jewish young adults around my age. One of my best friends from high school, Naomi, is also Jewish, and, from the moment I unpacked my last box, she kept trying to set me up with her cousin who lived a short subway ride away. “He’s such a nice guy,” she kept insisting, “all he needs is somebody to give him a chance!”

To me, that was code for “my cousin has no idea how to talk to women, and I figured you’d be nice to him.” I wasn’t against going on a couple dates with some NJBs (“Nice Jewish Boys” for the uninitiated), but I just wanted to meet new people, and I definitely didn’t want to settle down. Jewish men are awesome, amazing, inspiring, sensational, but they had a tendency in those days to put me in the marriage zone. I was generally not somebody they casually dated or hooked up with — something about the size of my tits and my responsible life choices meant that I was the person they could see bearing their children and buying a nice home with in the suburbs. And, being 22 and a total commitmentphobe, I was Not Down.

The transition from 16 years of being a full-time student to suddenly working a 9-5 with coworkers who were all married with kids and therefore unwilling/unable to hang out with me after work was not easy, and I found myself feeling pretty lonely in my new city. I chatted with some people on dating apps, but they either immediately tried to get me to send nudes (a kind of desperation I find extremely unattractive and indicative of a lack of respect for me as an autonomous human being instead of a walking fleshlight) or the conversation fizzled quickly. Ultimately, I let Naomi set me up with her cousin simply because I was having trouble meeting people my age. She forwarded me a picture from his Instagram of him at the beach, and I had to admit that he was pretty cute. His username was a decent pun of his name, and his captions were witty enough. So, I let her give him my number, and we were on our way.

The cousin, Ari, was not a great texter. I wrote it off as pre-first date jitters or him being busy or maybe him being a better companion in person rather than through the phone. But despite giving him the benefit of the doubt, when we finally set a date, I was excited to meet someone new but not particularly jazzed about that new person being him. More than anything, I really just wanted to get laid. My trusty vibrator was a solid dick substitute, but it didn’t compare to the feeling of another person on top of me, their mouth and hands roaming all over my body. As a result, I went all out for my first date outfit — my long, dark, curly hair down past my shoulders and a little black dress hugging my curves. I even put on fancy underwear, heels, and makeup, all in hopes that my efforts would convince the universe provide me with an orgasm not brought by my own efforts. Basically, I was desperate for decent dick. Or mouth. Or fingers. I wasn’t picky, but I wanted them to be attached to somebody who respected me enough to treat me like a human being before trying to stick it in me.

I’m always at least ten minutes early to meet-ups/dates/events because being late is one of my biggest pet peeves, so I decided to order a drink at the bar while waiting for Ari. Liquid courage was a necessity, my knees knocking together slightly as my legs shook in my high heels. I slid onto a barstool and nervously skimmed my eyes over the menu. “What can I get you?” a deep voice asked.

Lowering the fancy paper describing overpriced bar food in loopy calligraphy, I caught the gaze of one of the sexiest men I had ever seen outside of a red carpet. Colorful tattoos covered his arms, and a black v-neck t-shirt hinted at a dark swatch of delicious chest hair. I nearly fell off my seat. “Uh, hi!” I said perkily, feeling like a peppy idiot in front of this alt god, “Could I please get a shot of tequila?”

“ID please,” the walking, talking piece of art in front of me asked.

“Oh, sure!” I stuttered, my hands shaking as I handed him my out-of-state license, hoping he wouldn’t think it was fake.

“From out of town?” he asked, his eyes flickering between my horrible DMV photo and my hopefully more attractive real-life face.

“Just moved here. About to go on my first date since getting to the city.”

He handed my ID back to me and smirked. “You nervous, Lily from North Carolina?”

“Absolutely terrified,” I admitted, smiling at him through slightly chattering teeth, “Though I don’t know why. It’s not like I haven’t been on dates before. I’ve been on a fuck ton of dates. And I don’t even think I’ll like this guy anyway.”

Fuck, I was rambling. “What kind of tequila do you want?” he asked, bringing me back on track.

“Whatever will take the edge off without making me even hornier.”

He laughed loudly, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Goddamn he was sexy. “I hate to tell you, but all tequila makes people horny,” he teased, leaning his muscular forearms on the bar.

I bit my lip slightly and smiled, boldness washing over me. “Maybe make it two shots of whatever you’d suggest, then. Go for broke.”

He smiled at me, his gaze darkening slightly. “Two shots coming right up.”

“Three if you’d like to join me.”

“Three it is.”

He poured out the shots and placed a couple slices of limes on a plate. “Cheers,” he said softly, clinking shot glasses with me and knocking back his shot.

I licked salt off my hand, did both of my shots in a row, and then sucked on one of the lime slices. He watched me, a soft smile on his lips. I checked the time on my phone, my brow furrowing when I saw Ari had texted. “That your date?” the hot bartender asked.

“Yeah, he says he’s going to be late. But we were supposed to meet at 7:30, and it’s almost 7:45.”

“What a douchebag,” the bartender snorted.

I shrugged. “Maybe something serious came up. But definitely not cool that he waited until he was already late before texting me.”

“Let me know if you want another drink to drown your sorrows,” the bartender said with a wink.

That wink went straight to my pussy. I squirmed against the barstool, the tequila flowing through me just the way he said it would. The hot bartender took other patrons’ orders, racing back and forth between the customers, the bottles, and the cash register while maintaining a friendly but slightly disjointed conversation with me. I couldn’t help but watch him, admiring the way his tattoos moved as he mixed drinks. The bar got busier around me, and I started to feel guilty for taking up a barstool without any intention of ordering more drinks. “I can close my tab so other people can take my spot,” I offered the next time he walked past, holding up my credit card.

“It’s no rush,” he smiled, running a hand once through his dark, curly hair as he poured a drink.

“I insist,” I told him, handing him my card as soon as he finished with the other customer.

He slid me the check, and I smiled to myself when I saw he had only charged me for two of the shots. I gave him a big enough tip to cover his shot and the tip he should have gotten for the full price. In a fit of bravery, I scribbled my phone number on the bottom of the receipt and drew a little heart along with the words “Lily from North Carolina.”

Ari ended up arriving almost a full forty-five minutes late. If I hadn’t been so tipsy from the alcohol and lack of food, I would have been fucking pissed. He gave me an awkward hug that lasted way too long and then bickered with the hostess over the fact that our table had been given away. My face flushed, and I mouthed an apology at her as soon as I could. She smiled at me and shrugged good-naturedly. She clearly dealt with shitty finance bros all the time, but that didn’t mean she deserved it.

The conversation was pulling teeth, and Ari actually had the audacity to suggest that I order a salad instead of the pasta bowl I actually wanted. He frequently interrupted to talk over me, bragging about his travels and apartment and friends. I don’t think he asked me a single question. I could feel my pussy dry up with each passing minute, his sexism and masturbatory self-absorbedness literally making me fold in on myself as I crossed my arms and legs and stared at him with an eyebrow raised. I genuinely couldn’t figure out why the fuck Naomi had set me up with him. As soon as he excused himself to the bathroom (likely to do a line of coke, if his fidgeting was any indication), I whipped out my phone to send her an irate message. A text from an unknown number was on my screen. “*Lmk if you need an excuse to get out of this. It looks awful. —Zack from New Jersey*”

Well damn. My bravery had paid off. And, almost even better, he had been watching me after I left the bar. I smiled to myself and sent a text back. “*I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. But I might need some cheering up after. What time do you get off?*”

My phone chimed almost instantly. “*Usually after midnight but a coworker owes me a favor. Come find me when the douchebag leaves?*”

“*Deal*”

I barely had enough time to send a bunch of knife and skull emojis to Naomi before Ari returned from the bathroom, rubbing a finger under his nose. Definitely coke. I ordered a dessert he couldn’t eat just to spite him and didn’t offer to split the check. If he wanted to be an obnoxious, misogynistic piece of shit, then he could afford to shell out for the pleasure of my company. I couldn’t believe I had wasted an evening and a perfectly good hair day on him, but then I smiled to myself while thinking about Zack from New Jersey. Maybe the night could turn itself around.

Ari and I got up from the table, and he pointedly placed his hand on my lower back. I sidestepped, letting his hand fall. “So,” he smirked in an attempt to be smooth, “what do you want to do now?”

“I want to go to the bathroom. And then I want to go home. Alone,” I said pointedly, not smiling at him, “But thank you for dinner.”

He scoffed. “Are you serious?”

“Are **you** serious? Did you think this was going well?”

He waved me off, calling me a few choice words under his breath and leaving the restaurant without a backwards glance. I sent another text to Naomi with some vomit emojis and a middle finger. What in the actual fuck was she thinking? I then slipped into the bathroom to freshen up, my sour mood evaporating as I thought about the fact that I might be able to take Zack the hot bartender home with me.

After taking a deep breath, splashing some water on my face, and reapplying my lipstick, I felt ready to face him. Well, ready enough. My heart pounding in my chest, I left the bathroom and walked over to the bar, my confidence and bravery starting to disappear as my food continued to absorb the tequila. Zack saw me and did a slight double take. “Done already?” he called over the music and noise.

“No point in dragging it out,” I laughed.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Give me fifteen, and I’ll be good to go. You want another drink?” he asked, miming the motion of drinking something.

“Only if you have one with me,” I attempted to flirt but really shouted to be heard.

“Another couple shots of tequila it is.”

We each took two more shots, and I chatted with his coworkers as the crowd pulsed around us. They were all pretty cool, several of them aspiring performers and some of them in school nearby. Zack was effortlessly charming, his coworkers clearly appreciating him as both a colleague and a friend and many of the other patrons clearly as attracted to him as I was. The fifteen minutes flew by. In no time at all, he was clocking out, clapping a couple of his coworkers on the back, and coming around the bar to stand next to me. “You ready to go?” he shouted in my ear over the din.

“Definitely,” I smiled.

He was around my height while I was wearing heels, which I found refreshing. I’m fairly short when wearing flats, and I am constantly craning my neck to look men in the eye. The lack of height difference made him slightly less intimidating, though his tattoos and abject attractiveness still resulted in a net positive on the intimidatingly sexy scale. He placed his hand in the small of my back, and I didn’t shake it off. Guiding me out the door and onto the street outside, we were finally able to hear each other enough to make a plan. “Do you want to hit up another bar?” he asked, slipping a light jacket on, “I know a couple quieter ones in the area.”

“Honestly, I’d rather just go back to one of our places,” I admitted, biting my lip softly.

Zack grinned. “I’m right around the corner.”

“Perfect.”

He grabbed my hand and led me down the street, my heels clicking on the pavement as I giggled to myself. He paused at the corner and turned, kissing me without warning. His hands cupped my face, his fingers tangling into my hair at the base of my neck. I usually hate it when men don’t ask permission before touching me sexually, but I was not mad about this, having already told him that I was horny and wanted to go to his apartment. I deepened the kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth briefly before pushing him away with one hand on his firm chest. “We can’t exactly do what I want to do to you out here,” I whispered.

His gaze darkened, and he gently pulled me around the corner, smiling over his shoulder at me. He unlocked the front door to a large apartment building and opened it for me. “Such a nice boy,” I teased, pinching his cheek as I walked in.

He placed a light smack on my ass as I walked ahead of him. I yelped and giggled. He punched the up button for the elevator and then placed his hand on my lower back again, pulling me towards him. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and lightly scratched his hair on the back of his head while I pressed my tits against him, my lips coming up to tickle his ear as I whispered. “I want you to taste me,” I murmured.

His hand slid down my back to grab my ass firmly. “Get in the fucking elevator then,” he hissed.

He maintained his grip as I led the way into the elevator. He pressed a button and then turned, pinning me against the wall as he kissed me desperately, his hands wandering up my waist to my torso to brush against my nipples with his thumbs before cupping my face again. I slid my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and squeezed, spreading my legs slightly so he could stand between them. His hardening cock pressed against the front of my pussy through our clothes. The elevator dinged and we stumbled out of the door, unwilling to separate our lips. We wrestled in place for a moment, our tongues tangling together as we each tried to assert our dominance. I detached myself, panting. “Open the fucking door,” I demanded.

He led me into a small, fairly dark apartment, barely locking the door behind us before he grabbed me again, one hand tangling in my hair as he kissed down my neck and sucked on my delicate skin. I moaned softly before realizing he might not live alone. “Do you have roommates?” I asked breathlessly.

He released my neck just long enough to respond. “They’re out of town.”

“Then I want you to fuck me on every surface in this apartment.”

His lips recaptured mine as we fumbled with our clothing. I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans as he whipped off his shirt, revealing the tattoos that decorated his chest and ribs. “Hang on a sec,” he breathed.

I pulled back. He turned on a lamp and then helped pull my dress over my head. His eyes raked up and down my body, taking in my flushed skin and the frilly pink lingerie I had put on for another man. “Holy shit,” he groaned, his fingers brushing against the lace cups of my bra.

I kissed him again before retreating teasingly as soon as he tried to deepen it, “Get a condom.”

He kissed me once more before striding through a door right off the living room. I took the opportunity to kick off my heels and fluff up my hair. “Get on the couch,” he demanded as soon as he returned, tossing the foil square on the armrest.

I sat down and spread my legs, smiling up at him as he kicked off his pants and boxers the rest of the way. His cock stood at attention, larger and thicker than I expected for a man of his height. He knelt on the floor in front of me and kissed me slowly as his hands reached around to unhook my bra. He followed the fabric with rough kisses and nips, his hands pinching my nipples as he kissed down my body. Looking up at me, he enveloped my pussy with his mouth over my silly lace panties. I moaned loudly, relaxing against the couch. He slid his tongue against me slowly as he massaged my tits, every movement sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I wrapped a leg over his shoulder and tangled one of my hands in his dark curly hair.

Zack hooked a finger under the crotch of my panties and pulled them to the side, not pausing for a single moment before diving his face back into my pussy, his tongue flicking rapidly against my clit before traveling down to push into my cunt. “Oh! Oh fuck!” I shrieked, pulling his face harder against me.

He smiled against my pussy, his tongue rolling against me expertly. Enthusiastic pussy eating was definitely something I had been missing in my life. Especially from the boys my age I kept falling into bed with. I was in ecstasy, this hot, older, heavily tattooed bartender kneeling in front of me and worshiping my body. He pulled away to yank my panties down my legs. “Turn around,” he ordered.

I turned and knelt on the couch cushion, placing my hands on the back of the couch. Without hesitation, he spread my cheeks and pushed his face between them, his tongue attacking my clit from behind as his nose teased the entrance to my cunt. After a few minutes of calculated licking, I was cumming against his face, my body shaking and my face pressing into the back of the couch to muffle my moans. He released my pussy, grabbed the condom from the armrest, and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he informed me gruffly, kissing my shoulder and scraping his scruff against my skin.

“Please,” I moaned, arching my back and rubbing my ass against him.

He let go of me for a moment. The crinkle of a condom wrapper reached my ears, and then the tip of his cock was gliding up and down my labia from behind me. “Zack,” I whimpered, leaning back against him.

“Scoot forward.”

I pushed my knees forward and spread my legs more, holding onto the back of the couch for balance as I pressed my tits against it. Zack placed his knees between and behind mine on the couch, one of his hands reaching around to hold mine on top of the couch and the other angling his cock to tease at the entrance to my pussy. He sank into me slowly. We moaned in unison, his cock filling and stretching me. “Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead leaning against my shoulder as his other hand also reached around to hold mine on top of the couch.

He laced his fingers through mine, his warm palms covering the backs of my hands as he slowly began pumping his cock in and out of me. His chest slid up and down my back. I stared at the tattoos on his forearms, watching the way his muscles flexed as he squeezed my hands. He kissed and sucked on my neck, my head rolling back against his shoulder. “You feel amazing,” he whispered, his tequila-scented breath fanning across my face as he gradually increased his speed.

“Fuck, Zack,” I moaned softly, pushing my ass against him rhythmically, “Harder. Please.”

He began thrusting into me harder and harder, his warm body enveloping mine and pressing me against the couch. “Oh my fucking god,” I moaned, his cock filling and emptying me roughly.

His breathing got heavier behind me. “Shit, fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of me suddenly and stepping back off the couch.

“You ok?” I asked, rotating my torso to see where he went.

He shoved his fingers inside my cunt, pressing down hard on my g-spot. “I don’t want to cum yet,” he groaned, his hand working me from the inside, “I need a sec.”

“Take your time,” I moaned, leaning my forehead against the back of the couch as I enjoyed the rough pumping of his fingers.

After a few delicious minutes of massaging my pussy, he removed his fingers. “Lean over the armrest,” he ordered.

I did as I was told, walking around to the side of the couch and bending over at the waist. I reached back to spread my ass cheeks for him. He walked behind me. “Fuck, Lily,” he groaned, kneeling and shoving his tongue into my pussy from behind.

Moaning loudly, one of my legs instinctually popped behind me, my torso collapsing over the armrest and my arms coming around to hold me upright against the cushion. He shook his face rapidly and then withdrew, replacing his tongue with his cock in one smooth thrust. He slapped the side of my ass, both of us moaning loudly. “Again,” I ordered.

He placed another hard smack on my ass and then grabbed my hips tightly, slamming his cock into me over and over again. I lost all ability to hold myself up, my knees buckling. “Fuck!” he groaned, his hands moving to hold my ass and lift my cheeks out of the way.

“Harder!” I demanded, my limp body jostling with every thrust.

“If I go any harder, I’m going to cum,” Zack strained through his teeth.

“Then cum!”

“Not until you cum again.”

He pounded into me, our bodies slapping together loudly. His thrusts got more frantic, and I thought he was going to cum, but he suddenly withdrew, panting again. “Get in my bed,” he whispered, smacking my ass.

He yanked me off the couch, spinning me around to kiss me again. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and shoved my tongue into his mouth, pushing us through the door to his bedroom. He rotated us so that I was walking backwards and then leaned me onto his bed, his body covering me as he centered us on his mattress. The street lamps and occasional car headlights outside were the only source of illumination in the room. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my fingers trailing through his chest hair. He buried his face in my neck and thrusted inside me, docking his cock deep within my pussy and groaning against my skin. I moaned loudly. My hands wrapped around his torso to pull him flush against me. “Fuck me, Zack,” I demanded, “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

He wrapped his arms under me and punishingly pounded me into the bed. “I’m not holding back this time,” he warned, his forehead still pressed against my neck.

“Good,” I moaned, sliding an arm down between us to circle my clit.

Turning his head, he slid his tongue into my mouth again. My fingers rubbed desperately against my clit as I careened towards an orgasm. His thrusts got wilder and wilder, his cock stretching my cunt and pushing hard against my g-spot, my moans flowing freely into his mouth. I pulled my face back to rest my head against the bed, my face contorting as I got closer and closer. “Oh, fuck! I’m cumming! Oh my god, I’m cumming, don’t stop!”

Zack watched me as I tipped over the edge, my entire body tensing roughly and then relaxing just as quickly. His thrusts never skipped a beat, his face full of pride as he pounded me through my orgasm. I could only imagine how flushed my skin was. Or how much my wild, curly hair was spread across the bed. My hand trailed back up from my clit to wrap around him, pulling him tightly against me. “Cum for me,” I begging in his ear, “Please cum for me, Zack.”

He groaned. “Can I cum on your face?” he asked, his desperate pumping faltering as he neared his own orgasm.

“Yes,” I whispered, internally dreading having to clean his cum out of my hair afterwards but dick drunk enough to be willing to do anything for him in that moment.

He removed his cock and pulled off the condom, kneeling beside my head where it lay on the bed. He thoughtfully brushed my hair away from my face as he jerked his cock over me, his mouth open in pleasure as my tongue extended to catch his cum. He groaned as cum landed on my face. Placing his cock horizontally on my tongue, he kept jerking, the next ropes spraying across my mouth all the way over my cheek. I turned my face and swirled my tongue around his tip, closing my eyes. Bobbing my head a couple times, I moaned into his shaft and suctioned my cheeks, the final drops of cum hitting the back of my throat. He held himself in my mouth, his loud groans tapering off. After a moment, he removed his softening cock, grabbing a t-shirt off a chair and wiping the cum off my face as he helped me sit upright. “I didn’t get your eyes, did I?” he asked gently.

“No eyes were harmed in the making of this facial,” I joked.

He laughed and kissed my neck, sitting down beside me on the bed and tossing the shirt on the floor. We sat in awkward silence for a moment, both of us laughing softly and not really knowing what to say. I broke the silence first. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He grabbed my hand and walked me over, kissing me softly before closing the door to give me privacy. I used the toilet to avoid a UTI and tried to clean myself up a bit, unfortunately having to wash the remaining cum and smeared lipstick off my face with the same gentle foaming hand soap that I used to wash my hands. I dabbed my face clean on a hand towel and stole some unscented lotion to replace the oils I had just viciously stripped from my poor, innocent skin. My hair was too fucking big. I braided it and shrugged at my reflection. Good enough. He had already fucked me, clearly I didn’t need to keep trying so hard with my appearance. After a moment, I rejoined Zack in his room. He had pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and was laying on the bed, his head resting on his pillows. “Hey,” I said shyly, not entirely sure how to talk to him or what to expect.

“Hey,” he smiled over, clearly just as uncertain, “Do you… want to cuddle?”

I nodded enthusiastically and jumped onto the bed as he laughed. We laid on our backs and wrapped our top arms around each other, our legs tangling together. I loved the way the colorful tattoos on his arms and chest contrasted against my pale skin, and I traced my fingers along a couple of the images. He shivered against me, and I giggled. “Probably not quite how you thought your evening would turn out, huh?” he asked, kissing my jaw.

“Definitely how I hoped it would turn out,” I admitted, “though I thought I’d be going home with a nice Jewish boy.”

He burst into laughter. “What?” I asked, giggling in spite of myself, “You can’t blame me for expecting to go home with the guy I was on a date with.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “I’m Jewish, Lily,” he laughed.

“No fucking way. You have tattoos!”

“I’m obviously not religious, but my last name is Stein. I had a Bar Mitzvah and everything.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I promise you, I’m not.”

I giggled and then groaned. “Oh god,” I murmured.

“What?”

“You’re Jewish, you’re hot, and you‘re a great lay. We’re have to get married now, don’t we?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Shit.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/hizwsr/fm_i_22f_left_a_blind_date_with_a_nice_boy_to