Long story short.
I slept with him cuz he bought me a bottle of drinkable yogurt.
I really can’t believe I’m typing this. I’m so glad this goddamn Article is anonymous cuz the bar for coitus partners is embarrassingly low.
But also, why the fuck not. Why the fuck should I demand something higher than yogurt when my lady parts start being loud and obnoxious—whining and cussing and yelling and dripping—all cuz they need friction and a good orgasm. I mean, if I get friction, an orgasm, AND YOGURT..that’s a deal, right?
So this is what happened.
Important things to note.
- My town is small. It’s like 17 million people. But when you’re a former single saint and on days when you’re about to start ovulating and you find yourself trying to figure out if it’s possible to hump this bush in front of your kitchen window and you check to see if it has thorns or not, and when you aren’t into the local flavor and you’ve been on Tinder for too long, and when the pandemic refuses to go away, the pool is smaller than a mustard seed.
- I don’t ask questions anymore. I originally thought it was important to find out if a person was “seeing someone” or “married” or “dating” or “talking” or “significant othering.” But I’ve noticed that my gender of preference is not honest and they will often gamble the truth and share a lie or gamble with a lie to hide the truth when I ask them their relationship status. Some think they are more desirable if they say they’re single. Others think it’s great to share they are happily married…or “I’m married back home, but I have a local wife cuz I needed to start a business and needed a bank account, but I also love your boobs..soooo can you take your bra off?” It’s bizarre. I’ll probably write a rant about this later.
- No dude enters Tiny Palace and leaves without him entering me.
I think that’s all you need to know for now.
Back to the story.
A few months ago, I was minding my own business and I saw a cute young couple in maybe their late 20s or early 30s. The man was from the continent of my preference and the woman was from Russia/Ukraine. I was behind them walking and was petrified cuz I’ve now had coitus with a fairly high percentage of chocolate men in my area cuz I don’t tend to travel far on Tinder—and the guys prefer close proximity pussy as well. I held my breath and squinched my eyes to see if this was one I had already had inside me. I anticipate the worst-case scenario—dude has been inside me and is now walking with his girlfriend and then we meet and remember our moment of passion and wet friction. Then I saw his face and breathed a sigh of relief—Aaahhhh. I haven’t slept with that one..yet.
We hit it off well. Just 3 foreigners chatting. She really liked this dude and they had been together two years. She told me their story and about how he’s special. I listened and said I was thrilled for her—cuz I am. Truly I am. He was over 3 meters away doing tons of pull-ups and tricep dips on the monkey bars. She was talking about how she wants children and to settle down—with him cuz he’s “special and not like the others.”
They invite me to dinner.
Dinner & Gyms
I’m the single one at the table. Two other couples—both interracial. It was cute. But as dinner finished and they start hugging and googly-eyeing each other, I start getting annoyed cuz WHAT THE HELL AM I GONNA GOOGLE-EYE?!?! THESE SAUTÉED BOK CHOY??!! At 5 minutes past my max of patience, I leave. Get phone numbers from everyone. Half-ass promise that I’ll keep in touch.
Fast forward 4 months. I see the guy and he’s alone picking up a package at our gate. He shows off his dimple creases and the sun hits his melanin just right and I am almost slain in the middle of the street. He’s a muscly dude in a functional way—like doing acrobatic things and backflips and cartwheel back-tuck combos. We talk about my fucked up ankle which is why he hasn’t seen me running outside like before. I tell him about my gym.
The following day, I get a “Hey. Good evening.” Text message. Out of the blue. The coitus clock has begun! I made a silent bet that he would be inside me within 48 hours if I played my cards right. He asks about my gym and says he wants to see it. I read the message and translated it using my Heaux DICKtionary. “I’d like to see your gym. Let’s meet there.” means “Hey. Let’s have sex.”
We meet at the gym. Right as I was in the elevator about to leave, the elevator door opens and I see his irresistible dimple creases. He says he wants to work out and he will do what I do. I show him a few things and it was really really nice to enjoy chatting and exercising together. For someone to take an interest in my daily routine and I got to show off a little cuz I like to lift heavy.
Of course, I had to take a sneak peek at his butt while he did his tricep dips. It’s not my fault. It was at eye level!
After the gym, my fatass side took over and I found myself needing to satiate my need for a loaf of Bunny white bread. We picked up veggies, a two-pack of drinkable yogurt, some Draino, and such at Walmart and caught a taxi home. As we passed his house, I politely asked, “Do you want to stop at your house?” He’s like, “Nah, we can go to yours.”
Go re-read Note #3 above. Him passing his house was the nail in the coitus coffin. We were def gonna fuck.
At the Tiny Palace
Tiny Palace is tiny, but I love it. When he walked in, I gave him my chair and we chatted for a couple hours. I made dinner. He smiled ear-to-ear with his adorable dimples and gave me his yogurt. I was so touched! He figured out that I was in my sexual prime and he loved the stories of these silly boys and was not surprised one bit with their antics. He mentioned a few times that he had found someone he liked and “we have a cute dog.” I pay no mind to the pronouns because that’s none of my business.
It’s now midnight. He lingers at the door. He’s def trying to figure out a way to stay in my house just a few minutes longer so he could make a move. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, we see a roach in the hallway and I ask him to kill it. I glance at his arm extended as he takes hold of the situation and sprays the roach vociferously—like the knight in shining armor that he is—rescuing me the horny damsel. He turns back to me and he mentions again how he thought it was funny that I wake up neighbors fucking sometimes. And then, I say, “Yeah. Sex is my favorite. My body is great and she likes what she likes.” He stares at my boobs and says they look great. He leans in, kisses my neck, and we start making out in my opened door frame. I try to slow it down, but he was clearly not done. We stumble back in my room, I close the door. I’ve always wanted to do that cuz I’ve seen it tons of times in the movies. It was def a scene from a low-budget porno.
And the fucking commences.
He, of course, has no condom.
I grab one from my collection.
He had this magical intense thrusting thing he did that I was VERY impressed with. Lots of eye and full-body contact. I enjoyed myself very quite much!
We finished. He showered. We exchange pleasantries. I squeeze his little acrobatic butt a couple more times. We do some bye-bye kisses. Very pleasant.
He joked that, if it wasn’t for the cockroach, we wouldn’t have had sex. Silly him! I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had this all planned out and I was 6 hours shy of maxing out my 48-hour coitus clock.
And he left.
And to know that all it took to fuck was some yogurt and a roach in the hallway.