You’re thirty-four, not eighty.
Stop trying to make it a problem.
I’m not sure I’m ready for a real date.
I’m not talking about a date.
I’m talking about fucking. Just a hookup.
You’ll be in control.
You can tell me to do whatever you want.
Use me.
You want me to lick your pussy for two hours straight, I will.
You want to strap me to your bed and ride my dick like a bicycle, you can.
Okay, stop.
Why? Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?
A little.
You need to get over that.
Come on.
Tell me right now what you would do to me.
No.
Why?
Because I don’t know you.
So.
I just told you I’d lick your pussy.
It’s not that hard. Come on.
If you could have your way with me right now,
what would you do?
The typing bubblesbounce for a few minutes before she finally responds.
I hate being on top. And I don’t really want you to lick myyou-know-whatfor two hours.
I smile. There’s something about this woman I like. And I might be crazy for trying to meet up with her and willingly let her do what she wants with me when I haven’t even met her, but I can’t help it. She intrigues me.
Okay. So what do you like?
I don’t know.
Sounds like you just haven’t