(28f) Matched on Tinder. Met. Fucked. Deleted Tinder. All in six hours. [FM]

I’ve never been much of a fan of Tinder. It’s just a little bit *too* ‘instant gratification’ for my particular tastes. It tries to boil everything down to the most basic level – see a face you like, swipe (even in itself the most basic function a phone can do) say hello, arrange to meet; job done. Don’t get me wrong I can see why this stripped down approach would absolutely appeal to some but, personally, for me, it takes all of the – for want of a better word – ‘game’ out of it.

In its simplest terms, I’ve always felt that a date or a meet up or, hell, even a hookup, should be *earned*. There’s a satisfaction to be found in actually getting to that point and it’s a satisfaction that something like Tinder entirely strips away.

But, all this said, Covid and lockdown has rendered more traditional methods of meeting people an impossibility and, frankly, I’d gone without some lustful interaction for far longer than I felt was healthy. And so, pushing aside my reticence, I swallowed my pride and re-downloaded Tinder for the first time in years.

The app, somewhat predictably, appears to have continued entirely unaltered in my multiple year absence. Basically a place for window-shopping and hoping that your picture (because, let’s be honest, nobody reads the text regardless of how much or little effort is placed into including something witty or engaging) is enough to encourage a swipe.

Despite my temptation to include some pithy text and encourage some actual conversation from any could-be swipe righters, I swallowed my pride and went for the basic (and, dare I say, lowest common denominator) approach. Which is to say I scrolled through my phone to find a relatively recent shot of me wearing a HIAATAMT dress (which, for the uninitiated is a ‘Hi, I’m Alice and these are my tits’ dress; I.e. one that features a more than generous volume of cleavage) – Something that would hopefully catch the eye, but otherwise not appear as though I was trying *too* hard.
This was backed up by a variety of less obviously attention grabbing, but hopefully still showing off any potential; ‘look, I have legs too!’, ‘here’s a wink that you could consider suggestive’, ‘I also have attractive – but hopefully slightly less attractive – friends too, who knows what that could mean down the line?’ pictures, all carefully curated to straddle the line between immediately appealing, but short of desperation.

Profile set, I began the huge tedious task of actually swiping through any potential matchees.

I understand on some level this process is actually supposed to be the ‘fun’ part. The time to sit back with a glass of wine or six and fondly imagine the person behind each face – considering their personality, if you might get along, what their favourite flavour of ice cream is, whether they’re the sort to encourage you to call them Daddy – whatever’s your poison, and having weighed up all your entirely imagined facts, consider whether they’re worth a swipe right, potentially embarking on a long and exciting journey together.

However I fIrmly believe no one actually does this. Instead it is my stringent belief that every single user of the app looks at the potential match before them and asks themselves a single, solitary question:

‘Would I fuck them?’

If the answers yes; swipe.

I can fully understand this thinking too. If you can only engage with people who swipe back, then wasting time on any other consideration is fruitless. You can conjure up all manner of long and happy fantasy together, but unless they decide you’re the sort they can imagine bringing you to orgasm, then you’re not even going to get to say hello.

Which is why, all philosophy aside, I began swiping through faces based on one piece of selection criteria alone. Would I bang?

I was initially surprised how despite my recent drought I’d still managed to maintain some standards. And relatively high ones too. Perhaps obstructively so. Out of the first fifty or so faces that popped up I think I swiped on fewer than five. A pervasive fear begin to creep in that perhaps I was shooting myself in the foot. I’d come here, whether I was willing to admit it I myself or not, out of something near to desperation. Yet here I was casually dismissing dozens and dozens of guys who, had I encountered after a few drinks on a night out in a less screwed up world, I’d probably have been more than happy to go home with. (Or at the very least enjoy ten minutes in a bathroom).

But I’m nothing if not stubborn, and I’d have felt guilty for the few that had missed the opportunity if I were to suddenly lower by expectations mid swipe frenzy, and so continued with the bar set at much the same level as before.

In all and among other things, I was swiping for a little under an hour. During this time I’d managed a small handful of matches – several of which I was already questioning my judgement about – when I found myself matched up with Ben.

Apparently he’d already given me the thumbs up, digitally speaking. So when I came to swipe right on him I was informed immediately we were a match. I’ve never been one for being coy and waiting for a guy to make a move – especially since I could justify that he already had my matching with me in the first place, so I immediately fired him a message.

Fear not those of you who have made it this far despite the total lack of sex, I’ll resist the urge to regale you with our entire messaging back and forth. Just know that a) I was on top witty and flirty form, and b) I was in no way subtle about my intentions. Which seemed a good fit as neither was he. So much so I don’t think i need have bothered with a), but it made it more fulfilling for me regardless.

Lockdown is still very much in place here, so selecting somewhere to meet proved tricky. Ultimately I suggested we could meet in a local park for some takeaway coffee – the nearest we could get to ‘going out for a drink’ – whereupon we could take a quick walk in each other’s company and, assuming we didn’t find each other repulsive in the flesh, then it would be a relatively quick journey back to mine for us to get to what I’ve been missing for months.

Reader, we didn’t even finish our coffees.

As soon as I spotted him I knew I’d made the right choice. If anything he actually looked slightly better than in pictorial form. I can’t imagine he thought the same about me as it was fucking freezing and I was wearing about seventeen layers – about as far a reach away from my HIAATAMT dress as it’s possible to get. But, mercifully, he didn’t run at first sight. Nor did he attempt to scarper when I introduced myself with a “I don’t really know how to greet a tinder hookup. Do I shake your hand, give you a hug, give you a kiss or just grab you inappropriately?” If anything he just looked confused but, to be fair, he hadn’t matched with me for my sense of humour.

We bought coffee. Walked. And indulged in incredibly tedious small talk. Near to unbearably tedious. I was actually boring myself. So instead I suggested that, unless he’d changed his mind or the boredom had rendered him impotent, we should just head back to mine to fuck.

He agreed.

What followed however was another twenty minutes of unbearable small talk while we embarked on the journey. I really hadn’t thought this through. I’d also learned that his small talk was even more boring than mine. I was concerned by the time we actually arrived one of us might be comatose.

Mercifully, arriving back in my lovely warm flat I was able to lose the layers which did wonders to suddenly reignite his interest. We kissed and, practically before out tongues touched, I felt his freezing cold hand slide under my top to take a generous handful of my chest. My nipples hardened immediately at the cold touch which I can only assume had been the effect he was looking for.

I returned the favour by reaching down his trousers, but my cold hand had almost the reverse effect as I felt his cock practically recoil in the presence of the icy fingers. I apologised and offered to resuscitate it. Which, in practice, meant I got to my knees and began to blow him.

I say began. As I’ve mentioned it’s been a while, and having a cock in my mouth was something I’d missed more than I’d realised. And he was very much enjoying himself. So I both began and finished. I couldn’t help myself. Nor could he. Nor, I should add, did he make any effort to stop me. I don’t even know how long it took. I could have been down there for minutes or hours. We were both just having a lovely time and, before I knew it, I was tasting cum for the first time in months.

Swallowing it down I told him it was his turn now, before I promptly got naked (pausing only to turn the heating up a little higher), and lying back inviting him to return the favour.

At no stage had he claimed to be out of practice, but he clearly was. Suffice to say he got more out of spending time with his head between my legs than I did. But, thankfully, he was a quick recharger, and wasted no time in telling me he was good to go again and suggesting I climb on top.

I’ll admit this wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for. I’ve no problems with a round of cowgirl at all, but after an absence I was rather hoping I’d be the one *getting* fucked rather than doing the fucking.

But fuck it. I was near now, and it was better than nothing.

I came twice.

With him happy to lie back and let me set the pace, i, frankly, rode the shit out of him. Thanks to his recent orgasm his stamina had apparently doubled and he was more than capable of lasting for the duration. I hopped off him a delighted sweaty mess, and he requested I finish him with my mouth again, which I happily obliged.

I wanted a shower and he’d already fulfilled his purpose so I didn’t particularly want him loitering around my flat, so I encouraged him to leave suggesting we ought to do it again some time.

He left. I showered.

And in my towel, still basking in the glow or a recent orgasm, I found my phone and deleted Tinder.

But something tells me I’ll be Installing it again soon.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/jtkx4h/28f_matched_on_tinder_met_fucked_deleted_tinder