So the last we heard of Lewis, he was on my couch showing me his massive cock. Well, massive for me. I’m sure it’s all relative.
That was Wednesday night. We planned to see each other the following Tuesday. Even if he turned out to not be relationship potential, I was really excited to experience someone of his size. Shallow, perhaps, but I wanted it to happen. If needed, I was even going to break one of my texting guidelines (generally let them set the pace of communications) in order for that to happen.
Thursday morning I sent him a “good morning handsome” text. No response. At 1pm I told him he was responsible for my inability to focus on my work. He said:
“Good Afternoon! Me? Innocent little me? Well…I’m sorry but it was worth it! I pictured you on your hands and knees and I was eating your pussy and ass out from behind…then I slept like a baby…”
It’s funny how the gut works.
In that moment, suddenly this little voice said “Woah, Ann… why did you have to go and tell him you were kinky and loved sex?”. Time and time again, the moment a dude who I haven’t had sex with yet drops the “pussy” bomb via text, it seems that’s all its ever about.
But I tried to put it out of my mind. We’d seen each other twice and while the second time ended hot and heavy, we talked for a long time before then.
Later that evening, he texted that he had “filthy thoughts of us running through [his] mind all day“. Then he asked for an ass pic to tide him over until Tuesday. I told him I was terrible at taking ass pics and he offered to take some when we saw each other. I sent him one that Hyacinth took of me in some pretty funny undies (no, not Pink Floyd…even better).
When I asked him for a pic in return, he sent a full body naked shot which turned out to be from 2013 – he’s got a six pack which is no longer evident, but pretty much everything else was the same. It was HOT.
Friday morning I was again the one who started off the conversation with a “good morning”. I was off on a family trip and had limited connectivity for the rest of the weekend. Looking back at the text history, it’s obvious I was the one keeping the conversation going.
Sunday night, after asking him how his prior night was, he said “Nice and chill. Netflix is great, all I needed was a clit on my tongue and it would have been perfect”.
Now, if you are like me, what did you notice? Not YOUR clit. A clit. Harrumph.
Then there was the Sunday incident. I asked him whether he wanted to come over. Then I sent him a link to an article I thought he might like, given a work conversation we’d had. Five hours later, I got “interesting article“.
That was it.
I responded but then nothing. And I saw he was active on POF several times that day. Frankly, I was pissed off. If you have time to be on a dating site you have time to respond to a text from a woman you’re interested in.
So I reached out to some girlfriends to ask their advice. A particularly wise one suggested I treat him like I would a girlfriend who I’d made plans with. Be myself. So that’s what I did – the next day, Monday in the evening (now 24 hours since his last text, and 24 hours before we were supposed to meet) I “checked in” about Tuesday to make plans.
There was no response. Until I saw he sent me a message on POF, saying only “lost phone”. I gave him my contact information again. Hours later, he responded, saying he was on his back-up phone. We made plans for the next night.
Tuesday came. Mid-day, he told me he was “looking forward to sucking on your pussy tonight”.
That gut feeling kicked in again, but I didn’t really care. I responded he made me laugh and I looked forward to deep conversations as well.
He said he would be over at 9 and he showed up closer to 10. Granted, he had a bottle of wine in his hand, and he looked magnificent in jeans and a v-neck cotton sweater. We talked in my kitchen over wine for almost an hour. Then the kissing started…and it didn’t stop.
He proceeded to fuck me every which way, and then some. His cock was as big as I remembered. Both hands together and there was still room at the end. They barely fit around his girth.
I. Loved. It.
I can see how one could get addicted to the size when it’s attached to someone who knows how to use it. He just kept going, and going, and going. Insisted on trying the positions I said I liked, even though I told him I didn’t need to have my legs on his shoulders so he could get deeper.
I could feel him hitting my cervix over and over again, which was mildly uncomfortable but not too bad. At some point I recall telling him I think I’d met my match, and wondering aloud how it was possible he was smart, successful, not looking for a one night stand, and could fuck like a demon.
Even in my sex-addled state, I noted he didn’t reciprocate.
So I suppose y’all know where this story is going, right?
Around 1:15 in the morning, after three straight hours of sex, I climbed on top for a second time and managed to find an angle that led him to say “Oh Ann I’m going to cum”. Which he did, shortly after. And literally – I’m not exaggerating – fell asleep 2 minutes later.
The gigantic hulk of a black man, covered in semen (and in noting that fact, realized he wasn’t wearing a condom for that portion of our session – sigh) – was passed out perpendicular to the end of my bed. I got ready for bed, poked him in the arm until he woke up, he righted himself in my bed, and quickly started snoring.
We were awake before 6am. I was hoping for some sex, a leisurely breakfast, and more sex. I knew he didn’t have to be in to work for hours, and neither did I. But I kid you not – he said he had to go because he “had to poop”. Laughing, he explained that it’s a dating grey area whether to poop in someone’s house. Fine. I was being ditched for poo, despite having three bathrooms.
But then he changed his mind and I got to experience that big black cock all over again. This time, my cervix protested – a lot. He wasn’t too interested in taking it easy on me. He inquired whether I liked anal and after saying I thought he’d kill me, he said it was nothing that patience and lube couldn’t fix. He ended our session by putting one, then two, of his large fingers in my ass. He said “next time, baby”, then got dressed and we went downstairs. I inquired when he was free on the weekend and he simply ignored my question and talked about something else. He gave me a kiss goodbye, and left.
His text message a few minutes later was simply “WOW”. I responded that I thought he’d literally fucked my brains out. Later, I mentioned I’d listened to the audio of us fucking he’d recorded the night before, and he said he wanted me to send it to him, asking “did it make your pussy tingle listening to it?”
The next day, his only text message to me was “Hola! I hope you are well. How does that pussy feel now?”
Can you feel the love? I sure as hell did. I saw all the signs – it’s one thing to ignore a question on text when you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by telling them you are on a date, but another thing entirely to not respond when someone clearly is interested in seeing you again. And to not ever mention anything about seeing someone again, not even vaguely.
The short version of the rest of the story is this: there were fewer text messages, and long delays between responding. He would respond neutrally if I texted him, but that was it. So on Saturday, I sent:
“Hey Lewis. Hope your weekend is going brilliantly. I kinda sense I’ve been put on the back burner? Or are you just extraordinarily busy?”
His response (within 10 minutes, I noted) was:
“Hola Ann! I wouldn’t call it extraordinary but I am busy with plans I made with folks weeks ago. I did enjoy our time that we have spent and plan on spending more”
His planning skills leave a bit to be desired, since he hasn’t asked for any more time. So today (Monday), out of sheer curiosity what he would do, I asked him via text whether his schedule was still backed up. Three hours later and no response. So it’s clear to me – for whatever reason – I am not in high rotation.
I’m not sure where I made a mistake. Perhaps that’s not the right way to think about it, but I can’t help but feel like my telling him I was so sexual made a difference. Prior to having sex, we were talking about future dates; fun things we could do together. The other tactical error I made was pushing the pace of the conversation and when we were going to see each other.
The lessons I learned? Cocks the size of my biggest dildo are awesome in person. But more importantly? Pushing the conversation with someone means you might get them before they are ready. I’m becoming more and more convinced letting them set the pace is not about being mysterious or unattainable with men. If the man is ready he will be in touch frequently, and if he’s not? It doesn’t mean you won’t see him. It doesn’t mean he won’t fuck you.
But it does mean he probably won’t be around much after that.
I would love to be wrong.