Robert
It was 6 o'clock and I sat in my lounge eating cheese for no other reason than that's all I had. When all of a sudden, my handsome flatmate came running in to ask me about my date tonight, of which I had no idea was on. A quick check of my messages would reveal it was. I rampantly got ready, having to wear a wet shirt, as I had only just done my laundry (thanks for the heads up, guys).I cruised on down to the bar, wet shirt and all, to meet my date. As I waited, I started the tab – as any cheapskate is wont to do. And as I waited, I contemplated the worst: what if she saw me and left? Or – and it’s barely worth thinking about – what if she was fat? Meh, I’ll just have a whale of a time, I thought as I chuckled to myself. Five minutes later a gorgeous girl came through the door and, thankfully, she did not run away. She was tall and brunette with a nice body and face to match. There were two things I needed to take note of if I were to impress her: one, I would be shooting far above my weight, and; two, I suspected she was a lesbian – a muff diver from way back. Despite this, I was keen to have a good night.
We had the usual small talk, where she talked about feminism, coming from the hood and shoving ecstasy up your ass, and my conversation was only just as weird. It was strangely one of the better dates I’ve had (which is kind of sad). The date was drawing to an end and I had to drink with friends and she had some place to go. So we hopped into a taxi, dropped her off at hers, I got her number and I was happily on my way to get sophisticatedly trashed and meet my friends who would give me shit for not sleeping with her.
Kristen
Turning up far too sober, I expected the worst. There he was, already at the bar, eagerly awaiting my arrival. He was tall , blonde and handsome - dapper in a nice white shirt, with a face and all four limbs. Much better than expected. We drank, ate and chatted for a couple of hours about everything from family to shelving pills. He was totally Prince Charming but I didn’t fit the glass slipper, as my feminist chat obviously amused and shocked him to the core.An hour or so in, the topic of sex came up. He told me that he “wouldn’t want to bonk a girl who was willing to do so on the first date.” Ouch. I tried not to take it personally. I would have loved to write about some absolutely outrageous sex and been able to use the words “pulsating” and “dripping.” As banging my date’s brains out was out of the question, it was time to scour the landscape for new meat. As if Fate was on my side, a super sexy guy appeared from the mist (door), which led to the most orgasmic eye fucking session that Di Lusso has ever witnessed. I figured it wouldn’t be kosher to ditch so I did my best to be the perfect date, listening attentively and giggling when appropriate.
We shared a taxi home together with the date finishing outside my flat. He took my digits and went in for a cheeky kiss and a finger-bang, but I don’t kiss on the first date. All in all I had a pretty good time. He was an absolute gentleman, had decent chat and delicate fingers with tidy nails. Much too innocent for me, but he’s a catch for those ladies that are looking for an old–fashioned, straight-laced handy-man. Eventually, it was time to ditch so I could hit town for my nightly cock hunt.
Cheers to my date for being an absolute Prince Charming – sorry I couldn’t be your Cinderella.