The app did its matchy-matchy thing and I found myself chatting away with a guy who put me at ease.  I was still fairly suspicious about a non-meet, although he seemed extremely keen to meet me.  I quickly gave him my number and we exchanged photographs.  Just to make sure that he was real you understand.  I sent a couple of photos where I think I could pass as a 20-something, although they were taken within the last couple of months.  He was very complimentary and sent me a couple back.  Ooooh cute guy!  Younger than me, skater style, and looked in fairly decent shape from the way his clothes hung.

We arranged to meet.  He seemed a little nervous – he wanted to do the right thing by me – it was sweet – so we decided to meet for a coffee in town after work.  (For the record, guys who want to please me and are incapable of decision-making are not for me.)

The day arrived and we continued chatting until the very last minute.  It was sunny after work, and I got to our arranged meeting spot first.  He slid up next to me and said “Hey”.  I smiled; cute in the flesh too.  We wandered to Starbucks; I was surprised that I felt a little nervous.

We found a spot in the corner of the cafe and I sat with my hands curled around the warm cup, chattering away.  It’s a symptom of my nervousness, the chatter.  I warned him of this, and that he would probably need to tell me to stop talking if he wanted to get a word in edgeways.  He said he enjoyed hearing my chat and enthusiasm for work and hobbies.  We got another round of drinks in, and I relaxed.  He talked a little too, he was slightly down on his luck, but that was until he met me. Awwwww.  I felt some attraction, we liked the same type of music too, so while he walked me to my car, we arranged to meet a couple of days later.  On dropping me at my car, we just said ‘bye’ and parted ways.  No hug.

We carried on chatting by text, and as I relaxed with him, the content of photographs and text became saucier.  I followed my own rule about ‘not-sharing-photographs-until-meeting-in-real-life’ and sent him a couple of photos that sent him wild!  I told him I could meet him in town as I live a little out of town, and I was meeting my BFF for lunch first.

We had a plan.  I enjoyed my lunch.  Nothing changed the plan, so I met him mid-afternoon and we set off back to mine.  Conversation flowed more freely, and he started to tell me how excited he was about kissing me and having sex with me.  He took my hand and rubbed his crotch with it; yes, he was indeed excited.  I did my best to will the journey back to mine over as fast as possible so I could get naked with this man!  I practically ran down the path.  Shutting and locking the door behind us, he firmly pushed me into the wall in my hallway.

Imagine my face then, as our faces moved closer together, the anticipation of a white-hot kiss running through my body, as my face reached his neck.  I leaned in to kiss his neck and that’s when I smelled it.  A smell that made my pussy go dry; in fact, sew itself shut. It was the unmistakable odour of cat-urine.  I had in my house, a cute-looking guy to stay the night, who stank of cat-piss.  I recognise the smell, as I am an accidental cat-owner, and when she first arrived, she was scared of everything (as she had been rescued) and she peed in a couple of places.  I had thought I had cleaned up carefully until a day later when I decided that throwing things away would be easier, in order to get rid of the smell.  This guy reeked of stale cat-piss.  Now what should I do?  I had brought him to my house, trusted him to stay the night…

I had sex with him anyway.

#5 Lesson learned: Hug potential sexual partner and sniff following the first meet.

It was not my proudest moment, but this mama still has needs!  The sex was difficult.  I didn’t orgasm, but faked it.  I don’t fake orgasms now, I think the guy needs to know if I’ve had an orgasm or not.  If I don’t, he needs to change his technique!  I had thought the smell would be the most difficult thing to deal with; I was wrong.  He sweated too.  Now I like to think I am an open-minded person, but situations like this test that.  Maybe he had a medical issue that resulted in over-production of perspiration?  I mean, who would reveal that the first time you meet?  “Hey, just so you know, I produce hugely excessive amounts of liquid from every pore in my body when highly aroused.”  Hmmmmmm, no!

Missionary.  Liquid sweat running down his body.  I could perhaps have understood this if it was a marathon session, but it really wasn’t.  He sometimes supported himself on his arms, and sometimes was closer so our bodies rubbed.  When he extended his arms again, I was wet.  The perspiration ran down and dropped off his nose, elbows down his chest, there were even damp patches where his knees were.  I hope you can understand why I faked my orgasm.

The next morning, I extricated myself as quickly as possible and went to shower.  On returning to the bedroom, I made lots of noise about how fresh I was feeling, how I enjoy the feeling of clean before getting dirty, how soft my skin felt, and told him there was a fresh towel in the bathroom.  He said “Ah no, I’m fine thanks.”  Are you kidding?  A man who is covered in dried sweat like he did heavyweight boxing training refused a shower?  He must be entirely oblivious to the fact that he stinks of stale cat-piss too.

I got him out as quickly as possible.  Remembered some shopping I needed to do for my friend’s house warming party, so offered him a lift home.  He invited me into his home, saying “Please excuse the mess, I’m in the middle of home improvements.”  I counted three cats and the dirtiest kitchen I had ever set foot in.  The kind of grime that suggests the kitchen hasn’t seen a cleaning product for a few months.  It was no wonder he smelled.  I didn’t take off my shoes, nodded and smiled and said ‘see ya later.’  This was a mistake.

He texted.  A lot.  In fact over the next 24 hours, he sent me a total of 18 messages, without me replying once.  I finally replied around message 22 and politely asked him to stop texting me.  I told him I went on another date the following day and really hit it off with the other guy.  I thought it was kinder than saying “You stink.”  He ended up sending me a total of 30+ messages, and had a conversation with himself.  He became quite angry with me, saying he would turn up at my house as he knew where I lived.  I told him I would have to report him if his messages continued, and I would sadly have to block him.

What a sour-puss.


Until next time!


Author: hotterthanyourmama

I am a 38-year-old mama, obsessed with dating.

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