121 – The Mystery Man – part 2

I snap chatted to the Seeking Arrangement Guy for days.  While he kept the chat going he did so slowly, revealing little about himself, in increasing increments.  He kept inviting me over to his place, which I wasn’t feeling reckless enough to do.  However I was getting ready to take the plunge and meet him for a drink, so I asked him for his phone number and surname.  I explained my process of giving his details to my “safety buddy” Melody, and how it was important to my sense of security when meeting someone new, and that I would of course reciprocate.

He refused.

“I’m not giving out any personal details at this stage.  Its a deal breaker for me.”

I playfully asked him if he was protecting a secret identity.

“Are you Batman? Are you a spy? Are you an undercover cop? Witness protection?”

“Haha. No.  I just don’t think it is necessary.”

“Well, in that case, its been nice chatting to you.  Good luck.”

I wasn’t tolerating any of this secretive, evasive shit any more.  Be yourself or forget it.  Deleted and blocked.

I returned to the dating apps and gave myself thumb strain swiping left on 99% of the miserable, fake, pointless, unappealing profiles I read.  I made a few matches, most of whom didn’t send a message, then one stood out.

He was my age, lived on the other side of town, had close shaved fair hair, a stocky build and a very masculine vibe.  I confess he was the same “type” as The Toolman, without actually looking like him.  He messaged me and once the “how are you/what do you do/what are you looking for” questions were out of the way, the conversation turned to our sexual fantasies.

One of his pictures was a playful nude shot of him skipping down a deserted road.  It rapidly became clear he was a fan of being naked as much as possible and I mentioned my trip to the Nude Beach with The Toolman.  He was immediately excited by this and asked for details.

I didn’t get explicit, but told him how I had enjoyed the sunshine, warm air and salt water on my skin, and how clothes had felt so restrictive and strange afterwards.  His interest levels in me rose when he realised I was genuinely into this.

I told him I wanted a relationship with someone who would be open to exploring sexual adventures with me, including swinging.  Not surprisingly he was on board.

The conversation covered all the things we had done and wanted to try, and he told me he had been to a few swingers parties but only as a single guy and would love to go with a partner.

I explained that The Toolman and I had enjoyed dabbling in that scene, but we had started our relationship in the deep end of that pool and next time I would like to build a loving relationship first, before playing with others.  He agreed and was saying all the right things.  I was starting to get excited and turned on.  It was the first time I had felt that way since I returned to the apps.

Then he disappeared.

He told me he was messaging from work but it was really quiet, being the week between Christmas and New Year.  So when he vanished without a word I figured work had taken him away.

The next day, the same thing happened.

He apologised for work forcing him to leave the chat, resumed our flirty banter, then he was gone again.  I could see by the distance indicator in his profile that he was moving around, running errands perhaps.  Or perhaps his claim that he had never been married was a teensy lie.

When I came back the next day to try and reignite the conversation, he was gone.  Unmatched.

Increasingly frustrated, I thought once again about what I wanted.  Perhaps I should go back to fucking a different, uncomplicated 30 year old every night; laughing, playing and having no emotion about sex at all.

The Mystery Man had been snap chatting me every day over the holiday break and I had entertained the idea of seeing him again, thinking that getting high and having a few orgasms might make me feel better.

I had a long lazy lunch with an old friend and when I got home I was feeling tipsy, content and sleepy.  I messaged The Mystery Man and asked him if he wanted to come over and snuggle with me.

“I am on my way.”

I watched television as I waited, not bothering to shower or shave my sprouting, untended pussy.  I didn’t care about this guy and I didn’t care if he liked my body or not.  I sniffed my pits and figured I was okay.

As I waited for him, I remembered all those other hook ups; the anticipation, the excitement, the fussing around I did to straighten up my apartment, have perfect hair and outfit, sexy lingerie and lipstick.  This time I just brushed my hair and changed into slightly nicer-than-everday panties.

The knock on the door came and I opened it to find him taller than I remembered and his mousy hair with a little more grey in it.  He was only young so I wondered if something had happened in the last year to accelerate the greying of his hair.  I didn’t ask.  I didn’t care.

He kissed me on the cheek as he came through the door and removed his shoes.

“Have a seat and make yourself comfortable.” I motioned towards the couch.

The Mystery Man stopped to admire a painting I had proper up against the wall and we talked about my process as I made us some drinks.

We took our drinks and our seats and I led the conversation as though we were old friends catching up.  The television was still on and I planned on enjoying my drink and not rushing to the bedroom.

The Mystery Man asked me if I was looking forward to 2018, and I said I was, telling him 2017 had been a tough year for me both professionally and personally and I was ready for better days.

During our chats over the last few weeks, I had mentioned I was getting over a breakup.

“That is why It has taken me a while to invite you over.” I told him.

“I know.  Do you still smoke?” The Mystery Man asked, pulling a joint from his pocket.

Fuck yes.

I haven’t since the last time I saw him, over a year ago, but I was relieved he had brought the weed as I wasn’t sure I wanted to fuck him without it.  This evening was a test for me and I badly wanted to pass it.  Best result would be if I had an awesome time and got my groove back for younger, uncomplicated men.

The Mystery Man encouraged me to have more than my fair share as we smoked the joint.  I thanked him for bringing it for me.

“Well it seems like you really need to unwind and relax.”

We finished and returned to the couch.  I put on some lame movie hoping we would be so stoned it would be funny anyway, and we sat there for a while.

“Is the weed kicking in?” The Mystery Man asked.

“Mmmmmmmm” I responded dreamily.

He pulled me to him and planted one of his uncoordinated, stoned kisses on me.  I took control, slowing him down until he got his rhythm and it became enjoyable.  Hands wandered, hardening parts were squeezed and rubbed over our clothes, then I stood up and took his hand, guiding him to the bed.

I told him to lie on his back, as I wanted to grind on him a little and kiss him some more.

“I will take off my pants.” The Mystery Man proceeded to strip naked.  I only removed my jeans and straddled his cock in my lacy panties, kissing him deeply as I rubbed myself along his hard shaft.  His hands went to my ass and grabbed it, massaging and kneading it, pulling the cheeks apart and trying to reach for the centre.

I sat up and removed my t-shirt and bra before falling back down on top of him and kissing him again.  He took my breasts in his hands and squeezed them roughly before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it hard.

I pulled back after a few seconds and said “Too hard!” Before grabbing his wrists and raising the above his head, forcing him to stop.

The Mystery Man acquiesced and I felt the dominance rise in me.  I wanted to use this boy up and spit him out.

I held his wrists against the pillows as I grinded against him, stimulating myself and taking control.  At one point I let his hands go and they went right back to my ass cheeks.  He took my panties and pulled them upwards, increasing the pressure on my clit, then spanked me gently as I pushed against him.

“I vant to fuck you.” The Mystery Man moaned in my ear.

I rolled on to my back and removed my panties, with his help as they were wedged in there pretty tight.

He was inside me and my stoned brain wasn’t sure if he had put a condom on.  And my stoned brain told me he probably hadn’t been laid since the last time I saw him so who the fuck cares.  Idiot.

The Mystery Man fucked me really well and I could feel myself rising to orgasm.  I knew if I started to come while he was inside me he probably wouldn’t be able to contain himself so I told him to finger me to climax, tried to pull him down to lie beside me and kiss me as I came.

Instead he sat up between my legs and started intently at my pussy as he caressed and fingered it.  I shuddered as I came and he returned to fucking me.  A few moments later he got up wordlessly and went to the bathroom.  I heard him take some toilet paper and then the flush of the toilet, so I figured he had finished himself off in there.  Very considerate to not cum all over me or my sheets.  Thanks Mystery Man!

We went back out to the couch for a while.  He smoked a cigarette then I closed my heavy eyes.

“Are you sleepy?’

“Mmmmmm.” I purred, my head resting on his shoulder.

“Should I go so you can get some sleep?”

“You can stay or leave, I don’t mind.”  I really didn’t.

The Mystery Man sat there a few more minutes before he began stroking my nipples over my t-shirt.  I had thrown a t-shirt and leggings on over my naked body, and the soft fabric was too much for him to resist, it seemed.  Eyes still closed, I arched my back as he played gently with my breasts, his right hand wandering intermittently down to my pussy and stroking it.

I took my hand and rested it on his cock, feeling it harden in his jeans, then with my other hand, held the waist band of my leggings up so he could slide his hand in.

“You vant to go again?” He asked.

I smiled and groaned as he stroked me, letting him know I was open to something extra.

He stood up and removed his jeans and underwear, before sitting back down and urging me to take his cock in my mouth.  I bent my head over his lap and stroked as I licked and sucked.  I was giving it my all and he began to mutter in his native language.  I didn’t understand the words (he was probably saying “yeah suck my big dick, you dirty whore”), but it was clear he was having a good time.  His fingers laced through my hair on the back of my head and gently pushed me down on to his cock. It wasn’t forceful, and the head massage felt pretty good, so I let it slide.

We returned to the bedroom and I knelt on all fours so he could enter me from behind, slapping my cheeks as he moved in and out of me, pulling my ass apart and tickling the rim with his thumb.  It was deep and satisfying and I fear I moaned a little too loudly (sorry neighbours!).  We returned to missionary and as he fucked me I caressed his back and chest, gently squeezing his nipples as I used to do for The Toolman.

I fought back tears as I pushed away the memories.  The Mystery Man was a little taller and slimmer than The Toolman, but his build was similar, his skin was the same soft, pale white.  I found my hands searching his body for The Toolman’s scars and bumps; the features I loved and the familiarity I craved.

I wish these feelings would go away.  I had done everything I could to distract myself with The Mystery Man.  I had a couple of vodkas and smoked to relax, taken my time and been present.  Yet The Toolman was still here, haunting my sex life, my dreams and my memories, lurking spectre-like in the corners of my life to spring out from time to time and set me back.

The Mystery Man asked me if I had come and I said yes.  Not at that moment, but I was pretty sure I had at some point in the evening.  He got up again and went back to the bathroom to finish himself, before returning to lie next to me on the bed.

I was still sleepy but now I was sad and I snuggled up to him, as I used to with The Toolman, resting my head on his chest.

Unlike The Toolman, he tentatively placed his hand on my shoulder, instead of pulling me closed and kissing my forehead. I didn’t care that he was uncomfortable, I just wanted to pretend for a moment I was back with The Toolman and everything would be okay.

I started to doze off and The Mystery Man excused himself, saying he would go and let me sleep.

I saw him out as he said all the usual things.

“This was fun, did you have fun?  Shall we do this again?  I am usually free on Saturday nights if you ever want to hang out.”

“Mmmm..yep, sure.  I had fun too.  Yep, sure, anytime, just message me.”

I locked the door behind him and went to the kitchen to wash the ashtray and our glasses.  I was ravenously hungry and chomped down some crackers before falling into bed.

Not a total disaster.  But not a cure either.

p.s:  Thanks for all your votes regarding my possible birthday text to The Toolman.  You’ve all voted no and told me no good can come of it.  And you are probably right.  But is it likely I will listen to reason and objective good sense?  I guess there is a first time for everything.  Thank you for reading and Happy 2018 to us all. xox

 

2 thoughts on “121 – The Mystery Man – part 2

  1. This had a little bit of everything! Loved the post and good to see you’re making progress on your path to recover from the Toolman

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