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We met in a bar. Weirdly. Like an actual bar. It’s an odd place to meet, this bar specifically, because it’s a little old for me, and a little young for you, but we’re both at after-work drinks, so for a while on a Friday evening it fits for both of us, I guess.
I’m at the bar getting everyone drinks when you say hi next to me, and that you can get that for me if I like.
I go, “Um, probably not. I’m kind of getting a round.”
And you look like you’re about to say you’ll get them all, and then you notice the tray in front of me and all the glasses on it. There’s a lot of glasses, and I’m probably not worth that much of a showing-off gesture, so you don’t.
Or you realize that would be just be total money wankeryness and think better of it. Maybe that.
So you don’t insist, anyways, and I go back to getting drinks, and I waste the bartender’s time for ages, because it’s a big table, and half the people gave me money, and it’s got quite complicated. Because half the people I’m with are actually drinking properly and taking turns to pay, so I have a handful of money from one person for them. But also, a few are like me and just having one more, so I have money for single drinks, too. And I don’t drink, so I don’t join in shouts, ever, because that just isn’t fair. And yes this is all stupidly complicated, and was kind of my mistake. Like I was going to the bar anyway for me and I asked if anyone wanted more, and somehow it turned getting drinks for everyone. With complications.
So anyways, it takes a while. And I’m kind of going, here’s a ten for the beer and a twenty for those two wines, and can I have change separately please, and this is for all the rest of it.
And you watch. And I just kind of assume you hate me at this point. Because of how long I’m taking, and how you got stuck there next to me while I do all this.
So I’m sort of avoiding noticing you, but mostly not really thinking about you. I pay, and start to pick up the tray of drinks, and you say, “Let me.”
I kind of stop, and realize you’re still there, and not annoyed, and go, “Oh okay.”
And that actually works better, anyway, since I can carry all the money separately, keeping track of whose is what, and once we’re back at the table I can hand people their glasses without needing to push all the empties out the way to put the tray down first.
So that all works quite well.
Except now I’m back kartal escort at the table with a guy no-one knows and everyone’s looking at you, all kind of nosey.
Which I suddenly realise.
And you’re a lot older than me, too, which is kind of making you obvious.
And I suddenly realise that too.
Um, older as in technically maybe old enough to be my father. So not really, unless you were a very young father, probably, but still, maybe technically. Which is actually kind of sexy that you’re hitting on me, anyway.
So sexy, but right now, everyone is still looking at us.
So I say to them, “I need to take the tray back.”
Someone says they don’t think the bar minds.
“Nope,” I say. “They asked.” I look at you. “And you need to help me.”
Something like that, anyway. I tow you back towards the bar, mainly to get us out of sight of everyone else, so I get us around a corner and then stop and look at you.
Because you’re older than me. And that isn’t bad. Because I’m kind of in the right mood for it somehow, and I don’t know why it’s a mood thing, but it is.
And I’ve been with guys your age before. Um, which I should actually write about but haven’t yet, but I will. So I mean, I don’t specifically have some older guy thing, but at the same time, I don’t not. As in, I think sometimes that the kind of man who actually hits on younger women in bars well, I think they suit me better. Like they get my particular way of being sulky and smart and needy and perverted. Basically. Go read Evie’s Job if this doesn’t make sense.
So I look at you, and decide I am kind of interested, actually, and you obviously are too, since you’re following me around.
I’m standing around the corner, kind of hiding, with a wall behind my back. I reach over, and hold your jacket, and kind of pull you closer to me. I pull you close, and then I say, “I’ll fuck you if you spank me first.”
Just because. Because I feel like it. Because being that brave and forward and sexy is well, sexy. And because I can, when you’re this much older than me. I just can. Because your age means I can basically do anything I like.
And as well, because that’s what I suddenly want to do right now. I just feel like it. I sometimes just really like being spanked by an older guy, for whatever slightly weird and kinky reason.
Don’t think about it. Seriously. I just do.
So anyways, maltepe escort bayan I say that, and you look slightly shocked, like a normal person would, and then kind of look at me, like stopping and thinking to make sure you’re sure I actually just said that, I assume.
So I just stand there and wait. Because the being sexy. And mysterious I guess. And because I’m assuming it’ll take you a second to realize I did actually say that, and do actually mean it.
“Do you want to?” I say.
“Now?” I say.
So I go and tell the people I’m with that I’m leaving, and I guess you do too, and I find you back at the bar and we go.
And you drive. I remember that. Because I wondered if perhaps you shouldn’t, because we’re in a bar, but you seem okay, so never mind.
You drive, and we go to your house. You ask if that’s okay, and it is, so we go. I don’t say much. I just sit there getting horny while we drive, basically, because thinking about what we’re going to do, and this, and sex, and sex with someone I just met, and all of that. Which means I’m kind of getting myself thinky-wet just looking out the window and having inane pointless conversation with you about what I do and what you do and all that unsexy boring crap.
So by the time we get to your place I’d pretty much just fuck you in the car. But I don’t. I kiss you instead, and then we go inside, still kissing.
You kiss well. I can’t actually remember much else about you, like the shape of your cock or your voice or what colour your eyes were, but you kiss well. You kiss well enough I keep kissing and don’t stop, except to take off shoes and find the bedroom and stuff like that.
You sort of move me to the bed, not quite pushing but not quite not, and I sit down, and you kneel down, and I realize you’re going to go down on me.
“Wait,” I say. “Spank me first.”
You seem surprised. “You still want me to?”
You kneel there for a moment, and seem a bit helpless and unsure. Which you hadn’t a second ago, so oops, my bad.
“Please?” I say.
You think, then ask what to do.
I show you. “Sit on there,” I say, and stand up, and you do.
“I’m going to lie on you,” I say, and I do that.
I’m wearing a dress or a skirt, I forget which, so I take my undies off and lie across you, then I put my arm behind my back and say, “Hold me down escort pendik with that.”
You do. I probably have to say harder, actually hold me down. I’m not sure. You hold me properly in the end.
“Hit me,” I say. “Hit my ass.”
And you do.
You slide up my skirt, which is sexy in itself, that sliding slipperiness and knowing what happens next. You slide it up, then hit me a few times, and you do it gently first, because I don’t know, everyone does. You hit me gently, patting almost, but it’s still kind of sexy. You caring enough not to hurt me by mistake is actually weirdly sexy too. Like, I’d rather be hurt by someone considerate hitting me harder and harder until it hurts, than carelessly hurt by an unthinking asshole.
Um, I guess I want corrupted nice boys not actual bad boys? Maybe?
Anyways, you hit me, and I say harder, and that’s good, and you can do it harder, and I lie there, and get even more turned on, because the sheer sexy wrongness of being spanked by someone old enough to be my father.
Yep, I find that hot, I’m sorry. But I mean, seriously, all of this, everything here? That’s hardly like the worst thing.
So anyways, you spank me, and I get all turned on and can’t wait, so I reach between us with the hand you aren’t holding, because your leg isn’t in quite the right place to fuck it, so I reach down and push my fingers against myself and masturbate as you spank me.
I come. I do pretty quickly because I’m been thinking horny all the way here. I come, then kind of shake my other arm free of your hand and kind of slide off you, slide onto my knees in front of you, on the floor.
I suck you off. Because I’m happy and feeling sexy and I just came and why not. I keep masturbating too, because my hand was just there. So suck you off slowly, looking up at you, and you say polite wonderful things about how nice it is and how good I look, or whatever. I make you come in my mouth, and on my face a bit too, mainly so you can see it there, and I can wipe it off with my fingers, and all of that.
I stand up, and kiss you, and you kiss me even with your come on my mouth.
So that’s good.
I kiss you then you kind of get all old-dude polite and ask if I want a drink or anything and I say yep and we basically just talk for a while. Which is actually kind of fun too.
And we fuck again later, because me being polite, but it really is just fucking for your sake, because you want to, and that first time was what I wanted from you. But that time was fun too. The whole thing was fun, and nice, and we do stuff a few more times, and I’m glad I met you. Which is really all you can hope for in a casual hook-up, I guess.
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