Field Report: I End Up With Blue Balls
“You’re the first person I have ever talked to online and gave my number to. So don’t ruin it for me :)”
Hmmmm. We’ll see about that. I know a thing or two.
I respond: “I like the dress. Wear it tomorrow ;)”
“Maybe if you’re lucky ;)”
“his one thinks she’s funny. Better put her in her place.
“That dress and your hair down. My rules.”
The next day…
“I’m sorry I’m just leaving my house now I got off work late. You there?”
Fucking whore. Why do I ever bother to show up on time?
I text back: “Meet me by the Starbucks next door.”
“I really need a drink after work can you meet me there?”
Great, an alcoholic. It’s a fucking Wednesday. At least I’ll be able to get her in to bed easily.
Twenty minutes later, a girl in a bright green dress skips across the street and bounds up to my table. She stands about 5’4″ with flowing, long, and wavy brown hair. She has a pair of flip-flops on which I immediately dock her points for.
Are girls really so stupid they don’t realize how much hotter they look in heels?
“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Yeah, you should be,” I retorted, as I stood up to give her a hug. She looks better than the pictures she sent me. Alright, alright…I can work with this. “Let’s go and get that drink.”
I might as well start putting some liquor in her so she’ll spread her legs more easily later.
We walk into the bar as I put my hand on the small of her back to guide her in the door. She notices. I mentally make a note that there was zero objection or flinch at my touch.
Maybe this will be even easier than I thought it would be.
“What do you want to drink?”, I ask.
I should make her ass pay for this because she was late, but I don’t feel like having to deal with that shit. She’s a damn teacher, after all…she’s probably broke.
“Vodka pineapple please.”
Typical girl…damn, $14 for a vodka pineapple and a gin and tonic…at least it gets her drunk faster.
“Where do you want to sit?”, she prompted me as she began to walk towards a two-person table.
Girl, there’s no way in hell I’m going to sit across from you…I bet if I grab a booth I can finger her under the table.
“Definitely not there. Let’s go to that booth,” as I pointed across the room at a booth large enough to seat 5 or 6 people.
“Are you sure we can take up that much room?”, she asked with a nervous tone.
“I don’t care. Sit.”
As we sat down at the booth, I scanned her eyes to see what I could find. She didn’t seem too nervous considering this was her first online date. At the same time though, something just felt…off.
Time to go to work.
I launched into my usual date routine, which, while at this point, wasn’t quite developed, but was still very, very solid at that point. The conversation was good, but not great. Her receptiveness to my touch was lukewarm, not hot. Her attitude was sassy and needed silencing. I could tell she was a sweet girl, but could also tell there was a bit of hesitation to let her guard down, even at all.
Time to see how slutty she is, and I launched into the questions game, “So, when was the last time you had sex?”
Her mouth dropped as she replied with an act of defiance, “That’s none of your business!”
Typical. I know what to do.
“You have to answer or else you lose.”
“When was the last time YOU had sex?”, she retorted.
Yeah, I haven’t heard THAT before…
“Right before I came here,” I mocked, “In fact, I had sex with 10 different girls today.”
As she gradually opened up with the questions game, I definitely thought, by the conversation flow, that I might be able to pull off the same night lay.
Time to go for it.
“You live close, right?”, I posed.
“About 4 blocks away, yes.”
“Let’s go to your place, the drinks are cheaper.”
I paid the bill and left. It was now dark outside as we held hands walking down the street. As we turned down into the neighborhood, the lights of the main avenue and bars faded into the distance, and were replaced by the faint flicking of dying street lamps on a warm July evening.
“I have my next question,” I said, breaking the silence. “How good of a kisser are you on a scale of one to ten?”
“…Ummm, I don’t know. Probably pretty good.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I said, as I grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her into me. Our lips locked and our mouths parted, with a slight dance of tongues. I broke the kiss before she did.
“Well, I’ll rate you as a…5,” I said, and braced myself for the incoming physical assault.
Actually though, she was a pretty good kisser.
“HEY! You jerk!”, she replied, as she punched me on the arm, giggling the whole time.
Music to my ears, sweetheart.
“This is Lilly,” the girl in the green dress said as the small chihuahua-terrier-weiner-thingy scampered out of the room, yapping it’s little head off the entire time.
My God, she has a fucking runty dog. If this dog cock blocks me, I’m going to just drop-kick the bitch.
“Let’s get some drinks going,” I said. “What do you have?”
“Vodka, but not much to mix it with.”
Chicks never have good alcohol. I need to get my own bachelor pad and stock it with good shit. (I wasn’t living by myself at the time, and bringing girls back was just…bad. That’s a story for another time, though.)
Once we had our drinks poured, we went to her bedroom, and shut the door. I was thinking it was going to be smooth sailing. We chit-chatted a bit and kissed, and I gradually started to move the escalation forward. I didn’t have my trusty guitar on me, so I had to rely on more physical prowess to get the job done. I kept getting stopped at getting her pants off.
“How about another round?”, I asked.
“I think I’m good for the night, actually,” she replied.
Shit…maybe not as much of an alcoholic as I thought.
I realized that despite every green light in the book, there was a distinct chance I wasn’t getting any that night. That didn’t stop me from trying though. I pushed the escalation, then pulled back. I froze her out once or twice. I tried forcefully grabbing her hand and putting it on my hard cock…she’s stroke it a couple of times and then refuse to go further. She wanted it though, telling me that she couldn’t keep touching me or she wouldn’t be able to resist wanting me inside her. After at least an hour of the back and forth battle I was out of patience.
Fuck me, I’m going to end up with blue balls tonight. Damnit, Kyle.
At about 12-1am, I finally threw in the towel and announced that I needed to get home to work the next morning.
“Okay, do you want me to give you a ride to your car?” she asked.
No, bitch, I want you to spread your legs for me.
“No,” I replied. “I’ll walk it.” I was determined to carry out the male walk of shame to my car after not getting my dick wet.
“Okay. Drive safe! Thanks for tonight.”
“Bye,” I said as I walked out, not making eye contact.
Maybe I was too aggressive. Or…maybe she realizes guys don’t respect girls who put out on the first date. I hope it’s that.
I thought I would never see her again.
But…four days later…
“I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight. Wear another dress.”
“Ok! What’s the plan?”
“I’m not telling you.”
Why do they always want to ruin my fun?
I pulled into her driveway six hours later driving my creaky, crappy 1994 Honda Accord. I passed on driving my nearly-new Mustang. I didn’t want this teacher to end up being a gold digger, so I kept a few cards close to my chest. She greeted me with an enthusiastic kiss and asked me how my weekend had gone. She had a blue dress and her curly hair was a bit out of control on this day.
So far, so good…hopefully she doesn’t have a three date rule.
We drove to the beach where I bought us gelato and we watched the sunset. She had never been to this spot so she was amazed at the seals, little shops, and overall charm of the town. I captured this panorama on that day:
After we made out a bit on a bench near the water, I drove her home. This time, I made it past the cock-blocking yappy dog, into her bed, got her naked, and we had excellent sex. I knew she’d been itching for it bad last time, but I felt like the final reward was a little bit sweeter because I had to endure the walk of shame several nights before.
After we finished, I spotted a knife next to her bed.
Holy shit, this bitch is crazy…I’m gonna hide this knife if I sleep over.
I insisted on sleeping on that side of the bed. When she went into the bathroom, I slipped the knife under her bed.
How many damn forms of protection do I need to bring on these dates?
“So, I’m the first person you went out with online, huh?”, I said as she cuddled up to me.
“Haha, yeah…I don’t know what I’m gonna do with it, I’ll probably just delete my profile. There are a lot of weirdos. You were one of the few who seemed normal.”
The girl in the green dress never had a second “first” online date.
Her name is Holly.