This one comes from Ange, who has been reading this blog since the early days. By which I mean about January. Anyway. Enjoy!!
Ok, so I love reading about Dex’s casual sex meets because it takes me back to a time when casual sex was my favourite hobby. I’m not too old, but old enough to remember chatlines – before the introduction of a well-known website where you want people to paw your profile and a lazer-buzz could herald your next fuck. Those were trying times and I had to invoke the Trades Description Act on a number of occasions, but I digress. So, sex-meets revolutionized by t’internet, I started making my way through the huddled masses and experimenting with some different stuff to find out what I liked. Sometimes pleasantly surprised, sometimes repulsed and (on at least one occasion) quite alarmed – but that’s another post.
One evening after a few lazer-buzz messages I agreed for a reasonably good-looking guy to come over to mine. “One thing. I have a bit of a denim fetish.” says he while I’m giving him directions. Ok, fair enough, after the incident with the belt I think I can handle denim. “Do you have any tight jeans?” was the next question. I did indeed. I had a pair of Levi 501s that I’d had since I was 15 and, yes, I was prepared to squeeze myself into them for his arrival. Good.
He arrived about 20 minutes later and I was thinking “great, I’ll be able to get these jeans off before they permanently mark me” (I was a VERY skinny teenager). Bingo! He liked the jeans, they really turned him on and we started rolling around in my livingroom. It was actually very exciting… he was touching me up through the jeans, feeling every inch of my lower body right down to my ankles and back up again. Then, just as I thought I was going to be released from my denim prison, he tells me that he has brought a pair of jeans with him that he would like me to wear. Erm… ok then. He nips out to the car and comes back with a pair of denims that I can only guess were purchased from GapBaby. I had two options for getting into them – A) I could cut off my feet or B) I could get greased up and jump in from the top of the wardrobe.
Ok, ok, it’s just jeans I thought. So there I was in my livingroom squeezing into these ridiculously small jeans will he sits on the sofa watching and moaning (not touching himself or anything). Then, as I held my breath and did up the last button, he shot his load. Right there and then. No wanking, no touching, no nothing. I didn’t know whether I was more impressed or angry, given the fact that I had yet to be satisfied. He seemed quite embarrassed, crow-barred the jeans off me and left. I have never just came by looking at something, no matter how erotic (which obviously, I am). I wonder if any of you have?
So there we have it!! If you’ve got a story or rant of your own and feel like helping a blogger out, drop me a line at firstname.lastname@example.org and you may well see yourself here in a couple of weeks’ time!