First date, from a totally vanilla app.
The kind of date that five minutes in already has you sneaking impatient glances at your watch and trying to hide your ever growing yawns with great difficulty. Ten minutes in it’s either slashing your wrists, or the restroom window.
A dimly lit bar. She chose it, which is actually an encouraging sign. And a table at the back of the room that allows whatever little privacy the place can offer.
This time it was surprisingly interesting. The physical chemistry was evident right off the bat. The conversation flowed effortlessly and so did the drinks. I don’t really drink these days, and the liquor goes to my head as if I were a fifteen-year-old having his first beer.
An hour into the date we were enthralled in a heavy make-out session. My last memory of anything like it is from a field trip my class took sophomore year of high school.
I am not one for such public displays of affection, but the smoke-filled room and the loud music allow me to get carried away in the moment.
And then she notices the excitement that had gradually developed under my dark blue jeans. Without any hesitation she places her hand on my crotch.
For anyone taking notes, this is one of my most favorite maneuvers, and in my humble opinion, a favorite of any sensible man. There is nothing sexier than a women that knows how to take what she wants.
After massaging the area pretty thoroughly, as if trying to gauge the nature of that package that lies beneath the thick fabric, she elegantly unbuttons my pants, pulls down the zipper, and takes my, now fully erect, member out into the dense air of the room.
She doesn’t touch. Just lets it be there. Hard, throbbing, and visible to anyone whose level of intoxication hasn’t yet demolished all sense of spatial awareness.
I try to pull it back in. Embarrassed and a little shocked. But her hand holds mine. She wants it just the way it is.
I pull down my shirt to cover, but even that is not acceptable. She wants a man, at a bar, with his cock out and visible to all.
A couple of girls at a nearby table notice and start to giggle. I change colors. From red to an even deeper red.
A few minutes that feel like forever pass in this state. I look into her eyes. My hands are idle next to my body. There is no use resisting. She looks straight back at me, a thin smile on her lips, and eyes that reveal just how much she is reveling in this situation.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the waiter approaching our table, and a wave of adrenaline snaps me back to reality. I pull my jeans back up, and with a brisk motion return everything to its natural place. I remain sitting there with my head down and my heart racing.
It’s cold out. The car heater takes its time and we try to warm up in each other’s embrace. She is in the driver’s seat, and I am but a guest here. A sort of hitchhiker for a fleeting moment.
“Take it out”, she says in a stern voice. I’ve already understood that there is no use protesting. I also don’t want to.
I look left and right. The street is well lit, but there doesn’t seem to be much foot traffic at this time of night. I take it out.
“Jerk it”.
I jerk off, and she watches me. There is pleasure in her eyes. It’s not sexual pleasure or lust. It’s something else. Good and bad mixed together.
Her phone rings, and I stop (it’s disrespectful to jerk off when someone’s on the phone). But she gestures me to keep going. Her roommate wanted to check in and see if she’s okay.
Is she ok?! She’s just fine, but what about me?
“We’re in the car. He’s jerking off”.
I am not quite sure I heard her right. Is it possible that she just told her roommate what was going on?
If there was a moment of confusion on my part, her next move cleared it right up. A video call, a camera pointed directly at me, and a girl on the screen covering her mouth with a look that conveyed part shock and part pity.
I stop. Pull my jeans up. But she is not happy. Pulls it down again. Again, a snappy and stern command. “Don’t stop”. Her
Don’t cum, and don’t stop”, she responds.
“Please! I can’t”, I beg.
“Don’t you dare cum!”, she says in the same calm stern voice.
She lets me go on like that for another minute or two. Then she lets go and pulls her hand back.
I muster whatever power I have left to stop myself from exploding all over her car seat.
She reaches across over me and opens the passenger door by my side.
“Get the fuck out of my car, loser”, she says in a voice that’s colder than the air outside.
I step outside and she peels out.
And that was it. No response to calls or messages. Completely ghosted. Out. Alone. Cold.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/p6mucm/out_alone_and_cold