Author: sometimesafantasy29

I’ve just decided to get a divorce. I make a revenge Tinder account- if he had one while we were married, surely I can have one while we wait to go our separate ways. I match with someone and we flirt, but don’t get too obscene with it. We are both somewhat nervous, as it will be a first Tinder date for us both. We decide to get dinner, and agree that nothing sexual will happen for the first date. I get there early, he arrives late, but it all works out. We flirt clumsily at first, but get better throughout the meal. We are kicked out of the restaurant when it closes, and we end up sitting at a table outside in the dark, dusky summer air. We joke, we smile, he caresses my thighs. We hold hands, and soon enough we’re kissing. Deeper and deeper. We don’t want the evening to end. Eventually we discuss where our respective cars are parked, and I offer to give him a ride to his. Once in my car, we can’t keep our hands off each other. He gets hard, and I go down. I come up for more kisses, and we share a look and another laugh before climbing into my spacious hatchback. We break our promises; he gets on top of me. I come, and he pulls out, wetting my thighs as well as my upholstry.

His smile is unbreakable: jubilant, fun, real. His energy lifts me up and makes me feel like I’m exploring fun sex again for the first time. He tells me all the sexy things, touches all those sexy spots. Even while he grunts and comes inside me, I can see that his flirty smile is just a moment away. We lay together, after, and make small talk, but it’s not awkward because it’s intended to be nothing of consequence. In this moment, I am content. He is sexy… and cute… and I have no desire to expand the relationship beyond a casual fuck. It feels liberating.

He excites my darker fantasies, with a commanding voice, impossibly tall stature, and the the longest dick I have ever met. He has an attitude that tells me I’m nothing special, I’m a pretty little slut, one among thousands. He brings my submissiveness out to completely take control, and all I want is for him to fuck me like a ragdoll. His strong, long-fingered hands are experts in slapping, spanking, and choking. He strikes me with the perfect amount of force to bring a jolt of pain and a leaping pleasure from deep inside me. I am his sub slut, his whore, just a set of holes for him to fuck… and I enjoy it more than I ever thought I would.

He is a smart, funny, sarcastic friend-of-friend-of-mutual friends that I matched with on tinder. He makes smart, dry jokes, but laughs freely. There is romance lurking under the surface— how he kisses me gently enough to make me ache for more; in the way he deliberately presses his hips into mine against the balcony of the rooftop bar where we met. His moves are slow, calculated, firm in their subtlety. He tortures me with time. I don’t quite get to orgasm, but all that does is leave me wanting more. We’ve seen each other since then at various events and casual evenings. I’m always aware of his presence, and resist the constant, humming urge to grab him and tell him hoarsely to just fuck me hard already…