Been threatening to write this for awhile, the time frame is Super Bowl Sunday 2019, so another blast from the long ago past
So giving a girl an “Indian name” is something I picked up a many years ago. It is a playful dig at something she did that went really south and was horribly managed, or something that she should be improving or is being a dummy about. ie “I’m teasing you about this in good fun because I care enough about you to want to see you improve in some area. I’m not going to call you a dummy, even though it would probably work. And “such a stupid cunt” and “goofy hole” are terms of endearment in my world. But calling you a dummy is cruel and low value, so instead I’ll tease you about a name we can both laugh about, but it’ll let you know that you need to improve”.
Examples? Sure. At the stovetop, distracted from being pawed at, spanked, and then have all that attention suddenly removed as I walk away turns her brain turns to mush, and she accidentally burns something on the stove in on her mental haze: Indian name: Tries to cook pots.
She tries to suck my cock from the side and her teeth tear me up since she can’t open wide enough at that angle and I have to pull her off to keep the skin attached, feels like being attacked by a shark with those teeth — and then becomes a total bed pig as she hogs the entire bed after she passes out in place after sex. Indian name: Shark Piggy. You get the idea
I’d dated R for the first time right after the 2019 new year . We met for tapas and a bottle of wine, my online dating profile is both fun and revealing in my kinks if you know the clues to look for. Her original opener message to me “your confidence matched with mine will make us a great couple”. Red head, pretty, full body shot in her profile sealed the deal. Great opener, miles ahead of the usual “Hi” that girls send – save that weak shit for someone else love, I’m ride or die, get in or get out.
So sure, I liked that, I’m in. Memorable moments that stand out to me now are/were – wore a tight dress (+5), ordered the first bottle of wine (Malbec, good girl) while I was still enroute (+5), was really nervous (+2, but where was all that advertised confidence?) which is always a good sign that I can tease her about to get her to settle down. Things settle in after a few glasses, and now she knows that I’m not planning on murdering her in the middle of the bar in the restaurant. She didn’t want to eat when I ordered a steak after awhile, but ate bites here and there off my plate. So, kind of a fun girl.
First bottle of wine is going down nicely and she starts to loosen up a little, but then the red flags start seeping out slowly as she waaay overshares on a first date… Drip, drip, drip… Divorced 3x, in the middle of the 4th divorce. Her bio kids are grown BUT she’s adopted a child outta foster care who was 14 yrs old at the time, as is now 16. Of course she does this just prior to making the split with her current hubs official. Because she was a foster child herself… She is clearly very familiar with how a bottle of wine works, and raises rabbits. Cat ladies everywhere need to raise their game vs this one, right?. Hrrrm… ok. Now who doesn’t like a bit of crazy right? Guilty. Turk’s hamster is furiously spinning in his head: “But we’re just going to date her right? So this is all fine, nothing to see here! All good, full steam ahead!!”
Banging little body on her for a 40 something. We bounce to a 2nd venue across the street for drinks after closing out the tab at the first place, and as we walk in she starts making squealing noises for no apparent reason as she excitedly spots the pool table. “Let’s play!” Ok, sure. She’s horrible at the game, but manages to put on a nice show of leaning over the table showing the girls off while looking up to make sure I see what she is doing with a twinkle in her eye, molesting me while i’m trying to make shots – all great girl game that I always enjoy. She loses all 3 games but fun was had. I walk her to her car and turns out she’s a fantastic kisser which is a must for me. Great night, but clearly already going for the lock down.
For the life of me I can’t remember why I felt I needed to ghost her, but I did. Clearly big brain took over. And then one night a month or so later while having a drink at the 1860’s hotel bar in the wine town across the river I decided to try to put her back into the rotation, little brain combined with scarcity and all that — we’ve all been there so don’t @ me tough guy — and I sent a Hail Mary text that I was pretty damn proud of:
The whole thread is here:
The funny part at the time now that I look back on it was that I was wondering if she was going to bite on it or not… Idiot…
So, let’s get to it then. I’m running a 5k on Super Bowl Sunday morning, but I make plans to see her in the afternoon, watch the game with her, have some fun, and then see where things go. I figured that with the bad logistics going for the lay was kinda of a stupid expectation, so instead let’s just go have fun and build some rapport and get into trouble together somehow.
I drive the 50 minutes and pick her up at her place rolling in about 2p. She’s alone in the house as I roll up, and after a lip lock and a hug she informs me that her 16 year old adopted kid is away at a church event that is going to last well into the evening. Me: hmmmm, ok, noted. She tells me that the bar at the bowling alley around the corner is kinda fun with all sorts of things to do. The close proximity is a win since I don’t like to drive with a load on, and sure, we’re on her turf so I agree. Bowling alley it is, I love me a good dive bar.
Big place inside, ton of TV’s and a huge 40’x60′ or so big screen projector throwing up the game on the back wall, with a few open seats at the bar. I’m happy, the place is dive-y enough but still sports bar oriented – she gets a “good job” which makes her beam. Tight tight jeans, heels, top showing the twins off being held back in a fancy black bra. I’m assuming panties and bra are matching, and her best. She’s set the trap well today.
We sit down and order, and I get 2 tequila shots with a soda water back, to which I get an “uh oh” and a laugh outta her. Me: “trouble? These make your clothes fall off?” Laughing she explains that she doesn’t drink much tequila, makes her “too hammered”. Ok, we’ll go easy, cause “never too sloppy for sex” is a rule from a long ago GF that I’ve carried forward. She needs training wheels on her shot (lime and salt) but muscles it down like a champ. “Good girl, you ok with 1 more?” Her: WTF, why not, let’s go. Atta girl. Shots go down, I grab a couple of beers, and we roll off the bar to go find a table.
Of course she wants to play pool again, and there are the electronic dart boards and other bar games. We play a few games of darts, by the third game I know I’m in trouble because she is having a hard time hitting the dart board and then sitting down correctly into her chair, I’m laughing and telling her to slow down on the beer. We haven’t logged a lot of time together, but I’ve got a new clue on how to help her with drinking, and I tuck the clue away.
She decides that this would be the perfect time to play pool. She whips out with cocky/funny: “But I don’t like playing without a bet, it’s so much better when you have a bet on the game to make it interesting”
Hmmm, ok, me: “So what do you want to bet”
Her: “you decide <sly grin>”
I mull that face, more than half drunk, knowing that no matter what happens here I’m going to get a repeat of the sexy pool game show and some mutual groping. So I decide to go all in on the bet.
“Ok, if I win then I want to be serviced and then put you to hard use…” You can almost see the panties soaking in the glare of the fluorescent lights.
Her, nervous giggling “…ok” Me: “and you, what is your bet if you win?” Her, perfectly, looking me dead in the eyes: “…service and hard use”
Me, instantly: “we’re outta here, I’ll come back later to grab my CC that I left to keep the tab open. we’re going to your place. Now.” A happy giggling girl gets up and I walk her to the car, toss her in, and we head for her place about 5 minutes away.
Me, driving at max speed limit: you sure your kid won’t be back till late?
She reassures me, his church stuff always runs late she says. You can probably see where this is going…
Quick version of an already long story. Into the house, drags me into the bedroom just off the front door, her:”gotta pee, brb”, I look at the rabbit cage WITH 2 full grown rabbits inside at the foot of the bed – huh…, clothes onto the floor, “I never do this”, service and hard use, we get 10 minutes into 2 hours of fun, and the sound of a 16 year old kid flying into and through the front door <slam> “HEY MOM!” while the bedroom door is wide open…
Her eyes get real wide real quick, she removes the obstacle from her mouth that is currently preventing speech. “Hi son, I’ll be out in a minute” as she flies off the bed to close the door. My car in the driveway should be a clue that mom is being railed out in the bedroom, even for a 16 year old boy.
Lots of “oh shit shit shit shit” from her as I throw on my clothes and do the male version of the walk of shame trying to get out of the house “undetected”. To her credit she walked me out, with her face a mess, lip gloss ruined, hair going in all diff directions, embarrassed and scared. I drive away quickly, and only after I round the corner do I start laughing.
An hour or 2 later I get the “I’m just mortified, if my husband finds out…” text. Turns out in the end the kid makes no mention of it, and nothing comes out of it.
Her the next day: “It’s been quiet on the home front, but I’m not sure I can still see you, that was too much, I’m so embarrassed, I need to figure this out” Me: “I understand, you have my number. I had fun, hope things work for you”. A week later from her: “I might have spoke too soon, come over for a drink?” I start to tease her calling her mother of the year, it sticks.
We see each other for a few months until it’s not working well, and it’s time for asshole breakup