(Reader discretion advised y’all)
A few years ago, I worked at a university bookstore during my undergraduate studies. At the bookstore I met a 19-year-old student. Let’s call him The One Who Was Too Young. He always flirted with me and hinted that he was interested in me sexually. I was around 28 at the time and did not take him seriously. He was just a little boy in my mind. Also, I was madly in love with The One Who Didn’t Feel the Same at that time. Anywho…
A few years after departing the bookstore, I would chat with him from time to time. Every so often, he would remind me of his interest but I always brushed him off. Well…up until a few weeks ago. I finally gave in after chatting with him back and forth. How come? I’m not quite sure. I could chalk it up to the hypersexuality, his persistence, or the fact that a 25-year-old thought I was hella sexy. I believe it was a combination of everything. His unwavering interest began to intrigue me. He was not that 19-year-old boy that hinted around anymore. He was bold and downright kinky! He told me about all the naughty things that he wanted to do to me. I wanted to see if he could back it up!
Younger men seemed to be all the rage for women in my age group and older. “Do it,” they said. “Younger men have so much stamina,” they said. “Girl, get your groove back,” they said. I began to imagine his stamina. I imagined being 25 again and how ravenous my sexual appetite was. I imagined being enthralled by him. It’s been a long time since I was plowed into oblivion. The thought of new penis was also alluring. I equated it to the new car smell. The anticipation was killing me!
He came over to my apartment a few days later. The vibe was awkward. The small talk was awkward. The flirting was awkward. It was going downhill. I decided to ward off the awkwardness with fellatio. He went bananas. He went so bananas he exclaimed, “We should record this and put it on YouTube! This is off the chain!” Yeah. He said that…YouTube…off the chain. How sexy…
He used one of my dildos on me and that reeked of awkwardness too. It seemed like he tried to emulate a porn scene. He had no sense of timing nor rhythm. He was trying way too hard. Hello! There’s an art to stroking buddy! He also kept talking, talking and talking. It wasn’t sexy. It was wordy mess! Nothing felt organic. It felt manufactured and amateur to me. I could not wait for it to be over! I went down again so he could jizz and get the hell out of my apartment! Aren’t I so accommodating?
As he was about to leave (after his vienna sausage jizzed like an uncontrollable faucet), he made a bold move. He stepped back inside and aggressively bent me over to penetrate me. Was he redeeming himself? Was he showing some initiative? Where was the guy several minutes ago? This was going to be awesome! My engine was revving. Well…not for long. He quickly pumped about 3-4 times, pulled out and said, “Yeah. You got good pussy too. I wanted a sample.” He exited my apartment a few moments later. Utter shock rushed over my body. What was this? Was I being punk’d? Where was Ashton? Was Ashton going to fuck me like he hated me after this monstrosity I just endured?
We weren’t in contact for a couple of weeks. He reached out to me and questioned the lack of communication. He also expressed his desire to “see” me again. I declined and told him that we weren’t sexually compatible. It was a hard pill for him to swallow but I think he understood—after several days of pestering me. This experience definitely deserves to be on my list.