The Meathead

Hello and Happy New Year!

The last 6 months or so of 2017 were a little slow for me, sexually speaking. I just wasn’t speaking to or meeting anyone that I wanted to connect with on any level. I had deleted all my dating apps and most of the “black book” numbers in my phone. I’ll write more on what was going on in my life during the last half of the year later. And no, I didn’t spend it masturbating. Well, not ALL of it anyways.

Towards the end of the year, I joined Pof, Bumble, and Tinder. I decided it was time to start exploring again, and right before the new year, there were a couple of men who peaked my interest. I have met one so far and he is the subject of this post. The Meathead.

He messaged me on Pof asking if I was looking for discreet fun. For anyone who doesn’t know, “discreet fun” is code for married. Of course I played dumb though and asked why it would need to be discreet. He was up front about it and told me about his relationship and how it’s missing something. I’ll give you a second to try and guess what that was.

Men in relationships aren’t something I look for, but as far as casual sex goes, it’s relatively simple (And it had been about 6 months since I’d had sex). You know it’s not going anywhere which makes it easy to keep things casual and just enjoy the sex. Hopefully. He obviously did not have a picture on his profile so I gave him my number to send me one and told him I couldn’t really say if I was interested or not when I didn’t even know if I found him attractive. He sent one and he’s definitely not someone I would normally go for. Total meathead, all neck, all shoulders, basically a bull in man form, and all his pictures were gym selfies. But he was cute in a steroid-y kind of way.

When I asked what exactly was missing from his sex life, he said passion. The more we talked, the more I became convinced what he meant by “passion” was actually intimacy. He wasn’t looking for a bunch of partners, he just wanted one that he could have a physical relationship with. He told me how he loved to kiss and go down. He loved to please. Several times he told me how he loves eating pussy and how much I was going to like it and I’d never want him to leave and I’d want him to be mine. Ok, great. Sounds like it could be fun as long as he doesn’t show up and try to make love to me. Buuut…I had a small fear that’s exactly what he was going to do.

I set up a dickpointment for one morning this past week and he came over before work. He was better looking in person, he had a purty mouth. Now, body hair doesn’t bother me too much, I enjoy a little hair on my men. But this was not a little hair. His winter coat had come in nicely and was actually more of a snowsuit. Sort of how I imagine a bear’s coat comes in just before winter hibernation. But, he was in my apartment now so might as well see what he’s got for skills.

Let’s start with the kissing. It was nice, but…short? For a man who claimed he wanted passion, all of his kisses were soft and kind of delicate and only for a couple of seconds. I soon realized this was because he is a hardcore mouth breather and if his mouth was on mine for too long, he probably would have just passed out. And then I’d be laying there with a winterized bear on top of me.

He skipped over most of my body, including my breasts. Weird, because I have a pretty sweet rack. But, just a quick hello and it was down to the honey pot. I’m going to guess my high moisture levels had more to do with the recent drought and less to do with his skills. Men, read this carefully. Do not claim to love eating pussy and then spend 3 minutes or less doing it before asking if she’s going to cum. If she hasn’t verbally told you it’s happening or she has stopped moved and appeared to have passed out from pleasure, keep going. (He did this a couple of times, so he WAS trying.) But if this isn’t you, you haven’t been there long enough.

On to the fucking. It was ok. Except remember the mouth breathing? Imagine a bear on top of you, tryng to gaze into your eyes, and breathing onto your face as if it had just run an Olympic sprint. His breath is how hurricanes start. The silver lining was that his breath did not stink. Small win. The arthritis was in my knees so we stuck with him on top, which was fine once I got him to move around a little more so it wasn’t just boring old missionary with a couple sweet little kisses.  Like most people, I turn the temperature down when I go to bed, maybe even lower than most and keep it pretty cool. Even so, the meathead’s sweater was keeping him pretty warm. And because he didn’t want to cum until he absolutely had to, he kept moving. Which made him sweaty. Which meant I had a hot breath hurricane complete with his head sweat dripping all over me. And every time I touched him, I was touching sweaty fur. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I wasn’t started to find him less attractive. He kept asking questions too. Stupid questions like, So are you going to let me come over again? Am I supposed to say no while he’s inside me? I told him to shut up and stop talking instead. It was around this time I told him to stop and lay down so I could go down on him. When he rolled off me, my body was glistening with his sweat. He had a decent dick though.

There’s not much more after that. It was getting time for him to get to work so we had more sex. He laid beside me in the bed for a bit and chatted about our previous conversations and how he thinks I misunderstood something. He had kept asking the same question in the same way and I had finally been like, dude, yes you can come over, I’ve already said that, stop asking. I’ll let you know if something changes. He wanted to clarify that and I said I didn’t care and we didn’t need to talk about it. He said ok and then got up and headed to work. I wanted to go back to sleep, but was left with the decision, Do I lay in the wet spot or the sweat spot? I chose to change my sheets.

I don’t think I’m going to be what he’s looking for and he’s definitely not what I’m looking for. He did text me later that day, but my responses were pretty brief and I thankfully haven’t heard from him since.

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2 thoughts on “The Meathead

  1. The wet spot or the sweat spot! That comment killed me!
    What a waste of energy! So many men claim to love going down but don’t have the patience to see it through! It’s one of my pet hates!

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