Date Girl

I bet you can hardly sleep for wondering about that woman I messaged last week, the one I was worried might be a bit too date-y. We met for a drink on Monday night and she told me that she's looking for a man who she can rely on to fuck her about once a week. Fair enough, I thought. She's not at all date-y, but english is her second language, which maybe explains the tone of her first message. (She's from eastern europe originally. Strong accent. Blonde. Mid30s, decent-looking. An academic.)

She came over tonight. We had a bottle of wine (in my case, about a mouthful. I hardly drink). We had something to eat. She asked if I had any toys or gear, and I reluctantly admitted that I did, in fact, have a good blindfold, some handcuffs, ropes and wrist and ankle restraints and whatnot - what Sam used to refer to as my mountaineering gear - and she was very keen to try all this out. It'd been quite a while for me. I blindfolded her, played with her a bit. Then fucked her and did quite a good job of it even if I do say so myself.

She wants to do it again on Wednesday.