2 comments/ 5873 views/ 1 favorites Lousy in Bed By: FerdGerfel This story is a fantasy based on actual events and real people. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. My marriage was a means to an end for me. It's probably why it didn't work out. I started out believing in true love and soul mates and all that bullshit, but once my age started with a 3, I started to realize that it wasn't going to happen the way that I'd hoped. I decided that I needed a wife in order to buy a house and get on with my life, and because that's the way that I was looking at things, that's what I eventually found. By the time I'd settled down and gotten a respectable job I was 25 and it was the turn of the millennium. As you probably know it was a boom time in the United States, in real estate in particular. I started a house hunt to finally get out of my parents house, and found that all I could afford were dingy two bedroom condos. I passed. I figured that any day now I would meet "the one" and we would be able to afford a wonderful home together. More years passed and "the one" never materialized. Forget about doing anything on my own now, those dingy two bedroom condos had now doubled in price! I certainly wasn't going to buy one of those things now if I wasn't going to buy it a few years ago for half the price! I knew the only way I was going to get the kind of place that I wanted was to find someone to share it with. Finally somebody came along that appeared to fit the bill. We were set up on a blind date. We hit it off and got along well enough that we were engaged within eight months and living together within a year. My life was a blur for a few years. The wedding, the gorgeous townhouse that I always dreamed of, then the baby arrived. Unfortunately by then it was also obvious that my wife and I had no business being together. We didn't agree on anything. My wife lost her job and refused to go back. Her dream was to stay home and raise a child. My goal was to have a nice house and financial security. I lost the battle. My life became miserable, full of anxiety about what was going to happen when the money ran out. I did my best, giving up a job that I liked to find a job that I didn't for an extra ten thousand dollars a year, but it barely made a dent. By the time our savings was gone our marriage was over. Next thing I knew I was broke and back living in my parents' spare bedroom, saddled with huge alimony and child support payments, and wondering if it was all worth it. To my credit, I guess, romantically I never looked back. I was back on the online dating sites almost as soon as the divorce papers were filed. I had had very little success with them the first time around, but nowadays it was a much more acceptable way of meeting people. I put up a profile on just about any free dating site I could find, my smiling face plastered all over the internet. Divorced male with young daughter, enjoys bowling and mini golf, long walks on the beach, romantic evenings by the fire. I enjoy going out as much as I enjoy staying in (this redundant bit of nonsense was a requirement on every profile for some reason.) I spent hours fine-tuning my profiles and searching the sites. I knew I had a much better idea of the type of woman I was looking for this time around. I browsed through hundreds of profiles. Sometimes I even found somebody I was excited about, and I would write them thoughtful, witty messages and never hear back from them. I had second-hand knowledge that some of the profiles on the sites were faked, and I assumed I was very good at picking those out. Despite my frustrating experiences, I did get my share of attention. After all, I'm 5'11 and physically fit, with hazel eyes, wavy brown hair, and a killer smile. And to my surprise, the women that I confided in that I was flat broke and living with my parents didn't seem to mind. Before my divorce was final a woman struck up a conversation with me. We talked for two months. I found that I was ready to meet people but not ready to meet people, if you know what I mean. She didn't seem to mind, but by the time I was ready to meet her in person she balked. She was a teacher and it was August. She was going away to Florida, she said, and then to Maine for the rest of her summer vacation. She would be gone for two weeks. I was in no hurry, I replied, we could get together when she got back. I was lucky to have friends who were going through their own divorces. A close friend of mine was having almost the same experience, just a year or so ahead of me. He went through the marriage, the child, the disagreements, and finally the divorce. He committed himself to helping me through the divorce and the aftermath. He had just started dating someone who had been divorced for several years and had been on the dating sites. She filled him in on all of the awful things that women did. When I told him that this woman told me she went on vacation, Rich told his new girlfriend and she reported back that it was all a lie. She said she was actually seeing other men and putting me on the back burner. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Why lie about that? What if we did end up together? How would you account for the fact that you weren't actually doing what you said you were doing? I was an honest person, and the thought of someone concocting an elaborate lie like that was beyond my imagination. Whether she was lying or not, in the end it didn't matter. The woman suddenly stopped writing me while she was still "on vacation." A week after that her profile disappeared. Disgusted, I swore off online dating for... an hour. A good hour. For the next couple of months I slogged my way through online dating without any success. The few profiles that I found interesting enough to respond to never responded back to me. The women that tried to contact me were unattractive, incoherent troglodytes. One conversation fell apart after a few days because one day she told me she was on only child, and the next day she mentioned having a brother. Really. After that I swore off online dating for two hours. I never enjoyed being single, but I comforted myself with the thought that being single was better than being with anybody I had met up to that point. I rather enjoyed masturbating, anyway. I was good at it. I had years of being single and being in a bad marriage to practice. I knew my way around the internet. I knew the sites that offered free x-rated videos, and where the best erotic stories were. I knew how to find what I wanted, as long as it wasn't an actual woman. In the middle of October a woman contacted me. She seemed nice enough and attractive enough. I decided I was going to meet her. I asked her and she agreed to meet me at a coffee house near her. I didn't drink coffee, but I didn't drink alcohol, either, so I decided a quiet Starbucks was much better than a bar to get to know someone. We said we would meet at six o'clock and I was there at six o'clock. Did I mention I was obsessively punctual? It was obvious that this woman wasn't. There was no sign of her. I texted Rich after ten minutes. "Still waiting," I said. "No way," he replied. I wasn't too nervous when I arrived, considering it was my first post-divorce date and I really didn't know what to expect, but as the minutes dragged on and the thought of being stood up crept into my mind, I started to get anxious. I looked around the Starbucks. Customers were drifting in and out. There was a man with a baby in a detachable car seat sitting by the door, drinking a coffee while the baby napped. A woman had come in at almost the same time as me. She didn't quite match the photos of the woman I was expecting to meet, but after a few minutes ticked by I started to wonder about her. She took her coffee and sat at a table facing the door, and cracked open a laptop in front of her. I began to think that maybe I should just go over and make sure that it wasn't my date, when she suddenly put her phone to her ear and started jabbering away in Spanish. No, that wasn't her. I continued to pace around the little storefront, trying not to look like I was waiting for somebody and getting increasingly worried that she wasn't coming. After fifteen minutes I decided I would try to call her. Mind you our entire correspondence up to that point had been on the dating site. We had exchanged phone numbers when we agreed to meet in case of emergency, but we hadn't even spoken on the phone yet. I had stepped outside and dialed the number when I finally saw her approaching. She was 5'3 with waist-length brown hair, a slim figure and pretty brown eyes. She apologized for being late and I followed her into the Starbucks. We sat down at a table near the door and she talked for the next fifteen minutes. No, really. I don't think I said more than two words the entire time. She suddenly excused herself to go to the bathroom. I sat there, practically shell shocked, and expecting that when she came back she would feign an emergency and leave. Instead when she came back she said she wanted some coffee, so we went over to the counter. Here is the other thing that Rich had told me through his new girlfriend. There are women out there who will date you pretty much just for the free stuff. Free drinks, free meals, whatever. Food whores was the term that he used. The idea had stayed in the back of my mind. Mary ordered a coffee and I ordered a hot chocolate. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She didn't even budge when the cashier totaled up our order. Whatever, it was barely seven bucks total. We sat back down and she started talking again. Every once in a while she would ask me a question and I would answer her, which would send her off talking about another topic. I found myself just staring at her, following what she was saying but also letting my thoughts drift. I stared at her lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them. Her gray top left her collarbone exposed, and I imagined myself kissing it, then throwing her down somewhere and tearing all of her clothes off. I was never a man who let his sexual urges run his life, but this was a fresh start, right? Maybe this time around I could find it in myself to date women just to try to get them into bed. It could happen, right? After a while she excused herself to go to the restroom again. As soon as she was gone I pulled out my phone. 8:05? We were sitting there for two hours? No wonder my stomach was rumbling. I texted Rich that I was still there at the Starbucks with her. I didn't have time to wait for his reply. Mary came back and started talking again. I wondered if I should ask her if she wanted to go to the Appleby's next door for dinner, but she just kept plugging along. Finally an hour later she said we should probably go before the Starbucks closed. We stood up and walked outside. "I had a good time," she said. "Me too," I replied. "I don't kiss on the first date," Mary blurted out. Reflexively, I held out my hand and she shook it. I turned and wandered back to my car, wondering what came next. I honestly had no idea if there'd be a second date. It was a bit awkward and uncomfortable at times. Still, I enjoyed myself. I think I enjoyed myself. I must have enjoyed myself. Why else would I have sat there for three hours on a Wednesday night and missed dinner, right? Mary broke the ice the next day, saying she had a good time and hoped that we could see each other again. I replied that hopefully we could get something to eat next time. I couldn't tell if she found that funny or not. I couldn't tell if she had any measurable sense of humor, really, which was a big strike against her. We agreed to meet at a restaurant of her choosing the next Wednesday. "Why Wednesday?" Rich asked me the next time I spoke to him. "That's the only night she's free," I replied, "She said she works two jobs." "I'll bet she works two jobs," Rich said, "Her regular job and her other boyfriend." "How could she lie about that?" I almost shouted. "Imagine that conversation. Hey Joe, I'm not actually working two jobs; I was just lying about that so you didn't know you weren't the only man I was seeing. But you're the only man I want to date now, I swear!" "That conversation is never going to happen," Rich said calmly, "She's only dating you for the free food." I groaned. "My advice to you is to stop trying to make this chick your new girlfriend and just try to get her into bed." I heard him, but was I really listening? I was never able to date anybody with the sole intention of getting them into bed. Would I be able to now? I knew I wanted, needed to get laid. Maybe, just maybe it was okay to focus on that. The following Wednesday was more or less just like the Wednesday before it, just with food. She showed up fifteen minutes late, did the vast majority of the talking, and made no effort at all to contribute to the bill. We were the last people to leave the restaurant, sometime after 9:30. This time I got a hug for my trouble. I left thinking that if I was going to date this woman just to get her into bed; I was going to be dating her for a long, long time. "I think you're a great person, but I don't think that you're the right person for me." I practiced saying that in my mind almost every day, but it never made it into my messages to Mary. I wondered if I really wanted to keep seeing this person, or if it was a desire to just have anybody to go out with. I hadn't met anybody better yet, not for lack of trying. Mary said she was busy the following Wednesday, but that she could meet me on the following Saturday morning for breakfast before she had to go to work. I could hear Rich snickering in the back of my head. That was certainly something that friends did, not people who were dating. I thought that maybe she would tell me she only wanted to be friends during breakfast. I thought that maybe I would say that if she didn't. She was late to our breakfast date, too. I'm not sure how late she really was, because after nearly half an hour of sitting in a booth at the diner waiting for her I finally got up and found her sitting in the waiting area. As usual she did most of the talking and I paid for the meal. This time, at least, I got a peck on the lips before she hurried off to her car. Utterly perplexed, I wandered off to my car, the lingering contact still tingling on my lips. The following Wednesday we met at a little Italian place in town. She was twenty minutes late, did most of the talking, and didn't contribute to the bill again. It turned out that we had parked on different sides of the restaurant, and I offered to walk her back to her car. I thought it was a bad sign when I held out my hand to walk across the street with her and she refused to take it. We got to her car and she started talking for another ten minutes or so. It was unusually warm for a December evening, but it wasn't that warm. It was also about ten o'clock by then. I had to be awake by 6am to go to work the next morning. I willed myself to stay calm, curious to see what kind of goodnight I was going to get. Finally she stopped talking and told me she had to go. She pulled me in for an embrace, and then I could feel her face seeking out mine. We kissed. I was too eager, too passionate. I had to slow myself down to match her pace. We made out for several minutes, lips parted but no tongue, arms around each other but no caressing. The town was still bustling at this late hour, and eventually we were startled by voices nearby. I insisted on staying there until she got into her car and started it. Once the motor was running she gave me a look to say, okay, you can go now. With a wave I turned and hurried off to my own car, more confused than ever. We met again the next Wednesday at a Chinese restaurant of my own choosing. For the first time we were getting together in my neighborhood. I was acutely aware of the possibility of my ex-wife or her friends or family walking in and seeing me on a date. I found myself glancing at the door every time it opened. It wasn't that I was worried about seeing someone I knew; on the contrary it would've been quite a kick for me to know that she knew that I was dating. We had been divorced for four months already. My constant glancing at the door annoyed Mary, however, who eventually asked, "Are you expecting someone?" Rather peevishly. I apologized. It was the first date that I did anything besides stare at her while she talked incessantly. "Don't you have any questions for me?" Mary asked. I found the question so ironic after listening to her talk for hours on end I had to hold back laughter. The problem was that although I was a curious and inquisitive person, I had a hard time actually asking questions. That was what I told her. I'm not sure if she understood or accepted the explanation. Our date lurched to an end. We walked outside and Mary said that she didn't want to kiss me because she burned her tongue on the soup. I didn't mind. It was more conventional December weather and I didn't want to stand in the parking lot and make out in the freezing cold. We said goodbye and I walked away thinking that I didn't want to date Mary anymore. I was so sure Mary felt the same way that when she messaged me the next day I was expecting her to say it to me. I wasn't expecting the message that I got: Fred, I had a great time last night. Maybe next Wednesday we can meet at my apartment. Let me know what you think. Mary. "Go for it, man!" Rich said when I called him. "Yeah, but," I replied. I paused, collecting my thoughts. Rich cut me off. "You've spent how much money on this chick so far?" He asked. "Four meals? A hundred, hundred-fifty dollars? If she's willing to put out, go collect." "She might also be luring me to her apartment to poison me and chop me into little pieces," I replied. I idly wondered if my life insurance policy would pay out if I was murdered by a woman I was dating that turned out to be a serial killer. I made a mental note to look into it. "You'll get past that if you want to get laid badly enough," Rich said. In the end, I guess I wanted to get laid badly enough. I told Mary that I would love to come to her apartment. She asked me if I had any STD's. I didn't. Did she? No, she replied. She would've loved to cook something for me, she said, but she simply didn't have the time. We decided to just order a pizza. By the time we were done talking about it, it was Wednesday morning already. It was a long, long day. My mind constantly drifted off to various scenarios of how the evening could play out, each one more outlandish than the next. I got very little work done that day. I had her apartment mapquested and on my GPS. I was there on time. I don't know why I bothered. There was no sign of her car. Mary was going to be late to her own funeral one day, I mused, sitting in my freezing car outside her apartment. She arrived fifteen minutes later. I wondered if maybe she set her clocks ahead fifteen minutes and forgot about it, and thought that she was always on time and everybody else was crazy. She seemed surprised to see me when I got out of my car to greet her. "Oh, hey," Mary said, "I didn't expect you to be here already." "You said to meet you at six o'clock," I said, "It's 6:15." "Oh," Mary said, as though the concept of people showing up when they were supposed to only occurred to her at that moment. Mary turned and started walking toward her apartment, launching into a story. "Remember that girl I told you about at work..." she said, and I groaned inwardly. I didn't know why I would've expected anything different from her. The story of the co-worker lasted until we were inside her apartment. It was a tiny one-bedroom apartment, cluttered and unkempt. The odor of kitty litter assaulted my nostrils. I felt claustrophobic even being there. How far would I go just to get laid? Lousy in Bed "Make yourself at home," Mary said, and I looked around for a place to sit. I settled for a spot on her sofa which wasn't too covered with discarded clothes and cat hair. "Is pizza okay?" Mary asked, and I had to fight down a surge of irritation. We spent all week talking about what we were going to have for dinner, and finally settled on pizza. Why would she want to open up that debate again? "Pizza is fine," I said, sounding as cheerful as I could muster. "Is it all right if I just order from the local place?" Mary asked, "I mean, I could order from Luigi's, or Pizza Hut, or Papa John's..." "The local place is fine," I cut her off as pleasantly as I could. "Okay," Mary said, and she found their number and ordered a large pie for delivery. "I'm going to go change out of my work clothes," Mary said, "The pizza should be here soon." She headed off into the bedroom and closed the door. A moment later I heard the distinctive sound of a lock turning. I shook my head, bemused by the situation I found myself in. I wondered how I was going to pass the time. I thought about turning on the television, but I couldn't find the remote control anyway. I pulled out my iPhone and texted Rich. Then I did the dirtiest, nastiest thing I could think to do while sitting in a woman's apartment waiting for her to come out of the bedroom. I browsed the dating sites. There was nothing going on. I slid my phone back into my pocket. Fifteen minutes passed painfully slowly. For a while I tried to imagine what she was changing into. Sexy lingerie? Something revealing and slinky? I found myself getting an erection sitting there and imagining what was about to happen. Unfortunately nothing happened. I couldn't even hear movement coming from the bedroom anymore. I wondered if maybe she had fallen asleep in there. Or more likely, maybe she was hiding out until the pizza came just to make sure I was going to pay for it. My stomach rumbled at the thought of the pizza. I started willing the doorbell to ring, just so I would have something to do. Finally the doorbell rang at about ten minutes to seven. Mary had been in the bedroom over twenty minutes, leaving me alone in her apartment. Either she trusted me or she was a lousy hostess. I opened the door and paid for the pizza. I made room on her kitchen table by shoving a few things aside. "Pizza's ready," I called out. My response was the sound of a toilet flushing. Then it flushed again. Then it flushed a third time. Then, mercifully, I heard a sink running. I was making a point of not eating until she emerged. Come on, I'm starving, I thought. Finally I heard the doorknob to her bedroom jiggling. Did she forget she locked herself in? The door opened and Mary emerged, dressed head to toe in green sweats, with fluffy pink slippers on her feet. Her long hair was wrapped into a tight bun. It was the opposite of the sexy look I was hoping for. "Is the pizza here?" She asked rhetorically. "Oh, good," she said, "Have a seat." Neither kitchen chair was free from clutter. Mary cleared off a chair and sat down and helped herself to pizza. Resigning myself again to the situation I found myself in, I cleared off the other chair and took a slice of pizza. The best part of dinner was that Mary could only talk between bites. I stuffed myself with four slices of pizza. I'm not a big guy, at the age of 38 I was 5'11 and 160 pounds, and I was just beginning to get a little bulge in the stomach area, but I could eat pizza all day. We finished eating and found ourselves staring at each other. "So..." Mary said, "Do you want to watch a movie or something?" "Sure," I replied, and I followed Mary over to the living room sofa. She deftly fished the remote control out from between the cushions and turned on the television. I sat down beside her, a short distance away, watching her intently out of the corner of my eye for signals to move closer to her. She wasn't giving any. Mary was fiddling with the remote. I wasn't sure if she was trying to turn on a DVR or On Demand. Suddenly she switched the television off. "Do you want to go into the bedroom?" She blurted out. I turned to her, startled. She flinched when I stared at her. "We might be more comfortable in there," she said. "Okay," I said, and without a word she stood up and led me into her bedroom. It was every bit as cluttered as the rest of her tiny apartment. A queen size bed dominated the small room. A closet on the right side of the room was overflowing with clothes. A cluttered dresser sat in front of the window on the left side of the room. Mary suddenly turned and kissed me, the same slow, passionless kiss we had outside the restaurant a couple of weeks before. I wondered what would happen if I tried to kiss her more passionately. I tried it outside the restaurant she didn't respond. I resigned myself to her pace. Maybe after a while she would get more into it. Even the most frigid people get turned on sooner or later, don't they? The kiss went on and on. Every once in a while I would tug at her lower lip with my teeth. Then I would try to slip her the tongue. I met with resistance. I licked her lips with my tongue. Mary was only interested in kissing lips on lips. Sometimes she would turn her head to the other side. We would bump noses. I found it amusing, at least. Finally, after what must have been fifteen minutes, I felt her moving. She was pulling me towards the bed! In my excitement I pressed forward and almost knocked her over. We lurched to the bed, our lips still together, and when I felt that she had bumped against the side of the bed, I grabbed her in a bear hug and lifted her up and onto the bed. She couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds. She fell backward and I climbed on top of her. Things were going to get more passionate now, right? I leaned in to kiss her hard and was met with the same methodical kiss as before. Maybe she just didn't know how to kiss? Losing my patience, I pressed on. I knew this was a make or break moment, but I had no interest in lying there and lip kissing all night long. Either things were going to start moving at my pace or I was probably going to be home masturbating in an hour. I grabbed her head in my hands and kissed her hard, mashing my lips against hers. Not waiting for a response, I kissed my way along her face and to her neck. I kissed my way down her neck and back up to her ear. I kissed her earlobe, and then tugged at the tender flesh beside her stud earring. I paused, waiting for a response from her. I moved until I was above her, staring eye to eye. She was staring at me, curiously. I felt a growing frustration, and I pictured myself climbing off of her and storming out. Before it got to that point, however, Mary reached up and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and pulled me back down to her. She kissed me, again just lips on lips, and I had to resign myself to the fact that this woman was simply lousy in bed. Over the next half hour or so the same scenario kept playing out. I would kiss her on the lips for a bit, and then kiss her neck, her earlobe, any bit of exposed flesh. A couple of times I started to back away from her and she would grab me by the front of my shirt and pull me back down to her. I started to treat it almost as a science experiment, methodically kissing, licking, and sucking on whatever part of her skin I had available to me, trying to elicit a response from her. I found a spot on her neck that made her sigh when I kissed it. I kissed it... and kissed it... and kissed it. When I got bored with that I decided it was time to press ahead again. I sat up and reached for the bottom of her sweatshirt. To my surprise I met no resistance. She sat up and helped me pull off her sweatshirt. She was wearing a plain white bra underneath, covering her small breasts. I now had a lot more exposed flesh to work with. I zeroed in on her collarbone, right where I imagined kissing her during our first date. Mary gasped. I kissed my way from one shoulder to the other. I sat up again. Mary grabbed me and pulled me back to her lips again. Nonplussed, I reached for her breast with my hand. I cupped her breast through her bra. Mary suddenly moved, and for a moment I thought she was going to push me away, but instead she was reaching behind her to unhook her bra. She pulled it over her head and tossed it aside, and plopped right back down on the bed. I stared at her breasts. They were small and firm, with tiny nipples. I reached out and caressed the contours of her breast, my fingers settling on her nipple, rubbing against it until it grew hard. I leaned over and took the nipple in my mouth. Mary squeaked. That was a new response, I mused. I spent some time alternating between her breasts, caressing and kissing. When I did something right I was rewarded with a squeak. Mary grabbed my head and pulled me back to her lips. I gave up all hope of her returning my affections in any other way. I worked my way back to her breasts, kissing and sucking at her tiny hard nipples, trying to make her squeak. I spent quite a lot of time on her breasts. I am a breast man, deep down, and although I usually fantasize about large breasts, Mary's small breasts topped with her little pink nipples excited me just the same. I kissed and licked at them, caressed and fondled them, and sucked on her little nipples. Mary for the most part just lay there and let me. At best she would gasp and squirm and let out a little squeak. A couple of times she grabbed my face with her hands and pulled me to her lips. She made no move to undress me or kiss any other part of my body. After a while I let go of my frustration regarding her lack of lovemaking skills and decided to just enjoy my exploration of her body. When I got my fill of her breasts, I sat up again and looked her in the eye. She stared back at me, expectantly. I reached for the waistband of her sweatpants. Mary didn't resist, instead she arched her back to make it easier for me to pull them down her legs. She was wearing white cotton panties underneath. A damp spot was visible. She was definitely aroused. Usually at this point I would spend some foreplay time on her crotch, either with my fingers or my lips, or by rubbing my erection against her while we kissed, but I just wasn't in the mood. I set out to get laid, and I decided that that was what I was going to do. I started undressing myself, since Mary had made no effort to undress me. She laid there and watched me take off my dress shirt and slacks, my undershirt and socks, and finally my underpants. Mary stared at my cock in silence. In fact, for a woman who wouldn't shut up through all of our dates, she hadn't even said a word since she first kissed me. When she spoke it was the first time I had heard her voice in at least an hour. "Did you bring protection?" She asked. "Yes," I replied, and I reached back into my shirt pocket where I had been keeping a condom. I thought it was a particularly dirty thing to do, going through my workday with a condom sitting in my shirt pocket. I spent a lot of the day wondering if the outline was visible to any of my co-workers, and it kept me aroused thinking about it. Mary was pulling her panties down and off her legs. She wasn't a physically fit woman, and as a result she kind of had chicken legs. Her feet were nice, though, if you're into that sort of thing. I slid the condom onto my erection and climbed on top of her. I kissed her as I lined myself up with her and slid into her all at once. Mary gasped. She was tight but wet. Mary squealed as I began to slowly thrust in and out of her. Usually I went slowly and made sex last as long as I could. I liked pleasing my partners and I did my best to make sure they orgasmed as well. I found myself not really caring about Mary. It was obvious she wasn't interested in my pleasure, so I decided not to care about hers. It was the first time I had sex in almost a year, since shortly before my ex wife filed for divorce. I took a moment to enjoy the sensations of a naked woman pressed up against me, of her pussy walls enclosed around my erection. It felt very different being with somebody other than my ex wife. I hadn't been with anybody else in over seven years, but in the end, sex was sex. I closed my eyes and it no longer mattered who was underneath me. I needn't have worried about Mary. Within a minute she was whimpering and clutching at the sheets, her hips bucking against mine in orgasm. Feeling her orgasm got me excited, and I felt mine quickly build and arrive. I grunted and shot my load into her even as her own orgasm was still going on. I fell against her, both of us flushed and gasping for air. We lay like that for a few minutes. I started to think about how I was going to get out of there. I couldn't stay. I didn't bring an overnight bag. I had a great time, but I have to go, I started saying to myself. "So... I have to get up early tomorrow..." Mary said in her normal speaking voice, even though my ear was inches from her mouth. I sat up. I was being dismissed. I tried not to appear relieved. "Yeah, me too," I said, and climbed off of her and into the bathroom to clean up. When I was done I found that Mary had already dressed. I dressed in awkward silence and Mary led me to the door. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," Mary said, and kissed me on the cheek as she opened the door and all but ushered me outside. I wondered what was going to happen next, but I didn't have to wonder for long. I was sitting at work the next morning when I noticed my iPhone was vibrating. There was a message from Mary on the dating site. Curious to see what she had to say, I finished what I was doing and went to look at it. To my shock our entire conversation had disappeared from the site. Was there some kind of glitch? What happened? I was able to find her profile again. I wrote her a message, saying that something went wrong and I didn't get her last message. When I went to send it, I got a notification that this user has blocked my profile. I stared at my iPhone. She just dumped me! Did I just get used for sex? Mary obviously didn't realize that blocking my profile meant that her last message got deleted, whatever she meant to say to me. I sat there thinking, did I need closure? I had her phone number, after all. I even stumbled across her profile on another dating site once. I doubted she was thorough enough to block me everywhere. "You got your booty call," Rich texted me when I told him about it. "Let it go." And I did.