I did not go back to finish lunch with Lucky, although my stomach was growling. I also didn’t make it back on time. I was too busy hanging out on a throne in the john, scrolling on my phone so I didn’t think about what a pathetic excuse for a single woman in her twenties I was.
Good thing I’d met Cabin Fortress online. It was clear I needed time to come up with proper responses.
It was also clear it was good I was trying to procreate on my own. The chances of me finding my dream man when I couldn’t even make two minutes of pleasant conversation were slim.
The weird thing was, I wasn’t really that bad normally at social stuff. I mean, I was no dating wizard, but I’d had my share of boyfriends. Some long-term, some short, but none had run away screaming when things had come to their natural end. At least that I was aware of. The last guy I’d dated had even said my blowjob technique was spectacular.
Which was neither here nor there, since he’d said it while I had his dick in my mouth and he’d broken up with me two days later, but whatever. I had to take my wins where I found them.
But something about Murphy made me act…well, ridiculous, especially lately. I wanted to make such a good impression that I just lost all sense.
Or maybe I really needed to return to my regular amount of caffeine. Fast.
The final option was to ask Sage what she had that caused Murphy to act so natural with her. Was it their shared past? Had she rocked his world in a 1989 Pontiac after the prom?
Or before?
Then again, she also wore a summery floral perfume. Perhaps it was that. It couldn’t hurt. I smelled like flour and coffee beans. Which weren’t bad scents, just not particularly sexy.
I dropped my head in my hands. I was fucked.
Except not.
To try to drag myself out of my tsunami of woe, I looked at my phone again. I reread the end of last night’s chat log with my mystery man, smiling a little at how we’d danced around the subject of sex. We were doing that more lately. Veering closer and closer. Last night, I’d told him in an offhand way—ish—that I didn’t mind the idea of a little light bondage with a lover.
Not that I’d ever experienced it, but it was on my fucket list. Similar concept to a bucket list, except it referred to sexual experiences I wanted to have. The list was getting longer every day my dry spell extended.
Now I might be on the verge of scaring off Cabin Fortress with all my talk of ropes and ball gags.
Nah, I hadn’t gone that far. Thank God.
With a little wine in me though, it was anyone’s guess what would pop out of these fingers. Especially when I was horny.
My mystery man was really good at getting me horny.
So was Murphy.
Maybe my libido was just an indiscriminate ho. Because these two guys seriously rang my bell.
It was better than wondering if my loins were so eager because it’d been so long since I’d enjoyed an actual penis that didn’t have a jack that said DC power.
Rather than pondering that disturbing thought, I sent off a quick note to Fortress to try to mitigate last night’s wine-induced chatter. Sort of. I didn’t really know how to make things better, only worse.
Too late now. The message was sent.
Somehow I stumbled back upon my post in the group. It was buried under more recent posts, but it had so many comments that it kept bouncing back up. I read the newest comments with one eye closed, expecting the usual filthy remarks.
I definitely got some of those.
BigTireMan: Goodtothelastdrop, shouldn’t I be saying that to you? Maybe I’ll put it on my résumé. If you wanna see it, hit me up.
LastRodeoo069: I’m not sure if I can impregnate you, but I’d love to try. How’s tomorrow after lunch? My wife is leaving for a business trip. I’d love to have some biz of my own. Har-har.
Raiders4Lyfe: If you’re serious, Vee, I’m game. I’ve been told I never miss a target, and I have lots of practice with this one. Lots. *winky face*
I sighed. God, men could be seriously gross.
But then I read another kind of comment. A much better one.