Joy Buzzer has booped you!
Joy Buzzer: Hey Papa Bear
Chad: Hi Goldilocks!
Chad: Your timing was juuust right
Joy Buzzer: Heehee
Chad: So what’s happening?
Joy Buzzer: Can I ask you for a favour?
Chad: Go for it
Joy Buzzer: I need somebody to eat me out
Joy Buzzer: And I like a beard tickling me
Chad: Well then!
Chad: Are we talking tonight?
Joy Buzzer: Well, why wait?
Joy Buzzer: What are you doing right now?
Joyce met me at a bar near my place, just so we could make sure we didn’t find each other repugnant before I brought her upstairs to munch her muff. She had pale blonde hair with streaks of gray and wore a black-and-white polka-dotted dress under a snug green cardigan. We each ordered an Alaskan Amber Ale, then chitchatted for a while. Yes, I teach high school math. Oh, you’re a librarian at King County? Vermont originally, moved out here about twenty years ago. Vancouver Island, huh? Well, if I gave you a hall pass for Justin Trudeau, you’d have to give me one for Katy Perry. Say, want another beer, or…?
The answer was or.
We stood in my studio apartment and kissed for a few minutes, then Joyce whispered in my ear, “How about you kiss me where it counts?”
“Did you say counts or cunts?” I grinned as I slid her cardigan down to her elbows.
“Either one.” Her eyes flashed as she tossed her sweater on a chair and turned around so I could unzip her dress. “I remember that you listed a lot of C words on your profile, including Canucks. Was that referring to a hockey team, or…?”
Again, the answer was or.
“I have a bit of a thing for Canadian women,” I whispered in her ear. “Just yesterday I drove past a coffee shack called Blue Jay Coffee and was really hoping it was Canadian bikini coffee.”
“Was it?” Joyce murmured.
“No,” I grumbled softly with my hands on her shoulders. “All I could see was a silhouette of a woman wearing a bulky sweatshirt.”
“So disappointing.”
Joyce shivered as I kissed her neck and eased the zipper down. She stepped out of her dress, and I planted a few kisses on her ivory ass before draping the dress over the chair. She unhooked her bra and freed her heavy boobs, and I massaged them, hoping to soothe the angry red marks made by the underwire digging in. I also massaged her pale pink nipples with my tongue, but that wasn’t strictly necessary.
She lay back on my bed and pulled the crotch of her panties to the side, exposing her pink pussy fringed by a wisp of short golden curls. Assuming she was into CMNF—I may not know all the dating abbreviations, but I certainly know the porn abbreviations—I kept my shirt on and knelt between her legs, inhaling her scent before diving in.
I ran my tongue up and down her trim slit, then spread her crease apart with my hands and zeroed in on her clit, licking and flicking it while she writhed above me.
Making the devils’ horns with my left hand, I sank my middle and ring fingers into her tight cunt, thrusting them in and out, then curled my fingers up and stroked her G-spot while I lapped furiously at her clit.
Joyce thrust her groin into my face and grabbed the back of my head as she approached her climax. I angled my head slightly so I could breathe out of the corner of my mouth, then waggled my tongue for all it was worth until she began bucking and heaving.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Fuuuck!” she wailed as she rocked back and forth with my head between her thighs, before gradually grinding to a halt and releasing me.
“You really produce the juice, Joyce,” I chuckled as I kissed her neck and jaw, working my way up to her lips.
“Not bad, Chad,” she acknowledged before sticking her tongue down my throat. Pushing me away, she propped herself up on her elbows. “I don’t fuck on the first date,” she declared with an impish smile, “but if you want to admire the view while you take care of yourself, I’ll allow it.”
“Lose ‘em,” I growled, nodding at her damp panties.
As she slid her panties down her legs and flung them aside, I grabbed a can of beer out of the fridge and poured it into a pint glass.
“I’m gonna jerk off into this beer,” I informed her as I began unbuckling my belt, “and maybe I’ll share it with you if you ask nicely.”
—
D-Train has booped you!
D-Train: How’s it going
Chad: Good!
Chad: Tell me about your username
D-Train: I like D
D-Train: And I love pulling trains on the weekend
Chad: Is that like crossfit?
D-Train: Oh you poor sweet child
D-Train: I’m into gangbangs
D-Train: 4 guys minimum
Chad: Huh
Chad: I might not be ready for that quite yet
D-Train: Ok, no worries
D-Train: Boop me again if you change your mind
D-Train: Especially if you have three friends ;-)
D-Train has dumped you.
Rachel’s eyes widened as she read my latest 4N1K8R chat, then gingerly handed my phone back to me. We were walking along the shoreline at Gas Works Park on a relatively warm Friday afternoon, taking in a spectacular view of downtown Seattle.
“Impressive, if true,” Rachel acknowledged. “Do you think she’s full of shit?”
“Well, she claims to be full of dick every weekend, so I guess it’s one or the other.”
“In any case,” Rachel pointed out, “that was a very gentle dump.”
“Yup, she’s as smooth as Ex-Lax. But this was a mutual mismatch. No hard feelings.”
“Your words, not mine.”
“Dude.”
“Unfortunately for her, you don’t even have one guy friend,” Rachel teased, “let alone three.”
I raised my paper coffee cup in a mock salute. “I’ll drink to that.”
“But seriously, Chad, you’ve had a very busy week. I hear that a lot of guys get absolutely nothing on the apps. Weeks go by without a single sniff. Of course, they could be exaggerating, or just have terrible profiles…”
“I’d say I’ve gotten roughly one boop per day. What do you get as a woman? Ten? Fifty?”
“I had probably a thousand unread boops in 4N1K8R before I snoozed my account. So many guys. It’s impossible to keep up with them all, even if you want to.”
“Huh. Do you bother reaching out and booping any of the guys who show up in your feed?”
“In my feed?” Rachel echoed incredulously, then smiled. “Chad. Sweetie. A woman never has to look at her feed.”
“Oh,” I said quietly, leveling up from Sergeant Oblivious to Captain Obvious. “I hadn’t really thought about that. I know about the asymmetry, but…”
“You’ve been very fortunate, my man. Even though most of the women who booped you back weren’t a good match, you’ve been able to get some experience playing the game, to the point where you aren’t desperately trying to grab onto anything that swishes its skirt at you.”
I brushed my fingers against Rachel’s ass as we walked back to the parking lot. “Is this okay?” I belatedly asked for consent as I caressed her buns.
“Well, Jonathan and I are probably gonna get back together soon,” Rachel speculated, leaning her head on my shoulder, “but you can be my spring break fling for the next few days.”
“Wanna do it in the back of the Element?” I laughed.
“Nah, take me back to your place. You can fuck me, then we can order some dinner and rent that Romeo + Juliet movie and see whether it’s appropriate for ninth graders.”
“I remember seeing that one in the theater,” I reminisced as I unlocked the car.
“Well, I don’t; I was like one year old when it came out.”
“We can be Lord and Lady Capulet,” I suggested, then struck a dramatic pose. “Give me my longsword, ho!”
“Thou villain, Capulet,” Rachel fired back. “Who do you think you’re calling a ho?”
—
Some people say missionary position is boring, but let’s be real—when you’re slamming your cock into somebody’s wet-ass pussy, and her tits are bouncing up and down, and you’re both looking into each other’s eyes kinda half-crazed and afraid you might blurt out something stupid like “I love you!”—missionary can be pretty fuckin’ hot.
Rachel rubbed her rosebud raw while I rammed my raging rod into her ragged rhubarb pie, and she experienced a series of small orgasms before the big one finally hit. Her eyes widened and then fluttered, rolling up out of sight as she came, and I buried my face in her neck as I pumped her pussy full of my pearl jam.
“Eat me out, Chad,” she gasped, her body still twitching. “Gimme one more.”
“Greedy little bitch, aren’tcha?” I laughed as I slid down her body, leaving a trail of kisses between her quivering tits, down to her navel, then over her neatly-trimmed black bush before settling in front of her sloppy slot. “Let’s finish you off.”
—
Shauna has booped you!
Shauna: I’m giving this another shot
Chad: Hey! Nice to see you again
Chad: I accidentally dumped you the first time
Shauna: Uh huh, I bet
Chad: No, really
Chad: It was 100% user error
Shauna: I’m just messing with you
Chad: ♡
Chad: So how’s it going?
Shauna had left this chat hanging for a while, so as Romeo and Juliet died—Oops, spoiler alert!—I went back and scrolled through her bio to remind myself what she was all about.
Photo #1: Shauna wearing sunglasses, smiling in her yellow kayak on a river
Photo #2: Shauna wearing sunglasses, hugging a large black dog near a red Jeep
Photo #3: Shauna wearing sunglasses, standing on her paddleboard in a lake
Photo #4: Shauna wearing sunglasses, doing Tree Pose by a broad waterfall
Likes: watersports, camping, outdoor adventures, moving my body, dogs.
I handed my phone to Rachel and waited for her opinion. There was zero chance that she wouldn’t have one.
“What’s with the sunglasses?”
“Maybe she’s shy, and it’s easier than blurring out her face.”
“God, all the fucking idiots who claim they have to hide their face for professional reasons. Like, we all have jobs, people. You’re not that special.”
“Well,” I proposed, “She’s always outside. Maybe she forgets she’s wearing them, like how Devin Randall forgets he’s wearing his jacket all day at school.”
“Could be,” Rachel commented drily. “She’s certainly outdoorsy enough. She’ll probably be jazzed to do it in the back of your Element.”
“I just hope she isn’t too much of a Jeep snob.”
“Oh, is that a thing?” Rachel asked innocently. “I had no idea.”
“What I don’t get,” I became serious for a moment, “is why she would reach out again but then go silent for multiple days.”
“Well, you never know what else she has going on. Some people connect when they have free time, then they get crazy busy at work, or they need to clean out their parents’ house and move them into assisted living. Or she could be on multiple dating apps and checking 4N1K8R isn’t her top priority.”
I nodded slowly, then looked at Shauna’s Likes again. “So, I’m assuming she doesn’t realize what watersports means?”
“Ha!” Rachel laughed. “I guess you’ll find out if you meet her.”
“You know, I think I’ve been to that waterfall, in Iceland,” I mused, scrolling back to Photo #4. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s Gullfoss. Literal translation: golden waterfall.”
“Oy vey! She definitely knows what watersports means. Good thing you can hose out the Element when you’re done.”
—
On Sunday I met Joyce at the pinball museum around the corner from my place. Thankfully, she’d secured free passes through the library. The museum charges a $25 admission and gives you unlimited free plays. If you can manage to play 100 times, I guess you’d break even: 0.25x ≥ 25.
“Oh God,” I groaned when I saw a backlit image of KISS vamping and flashing their shit-kickers. “I remember this stupid pinball machine from when I was a kid. It plays the chorus to Rock And Roll All Nite with dinky little bells.”
Well, with a recommendation like that, Joyce just had to try it out.
[Screenreader note: The following is a visual gag displaying the bells like notes written on a page of sheet music.]
ping
ping-ping-ping pinggg
ping-ping
ping
I wanna rock and roll all niiiite
ping
ping ping
ping ping ping ping
and par- ty ev- e- ry day
“You weren’t kidding,” she snorted. “That really sucks. I can’t believe this is what passed for entertainment back then.”
“It’s like the doorbell on a Fisher-Price farmhouse,” I sighed, then looked around the room in disappointment. “Mind if we get out of here? I don’t actually like pinball machines all that much.”
“That was a pretty quick second date,” Joyce teased me. “Now what?”
“Well, you said you don’t fuck on the first date…”
“Yeah?”
“So I figured maybe you do on the second.”
“What is it, like a three-minute walk to your apartment?”
“At most, if you have rotten luck with the traffic lights.”
I offered her my elbow, and we strolled out into the sunshine. (I know, right? Seattle in April! Bizarre.)
When we got upstairs to my studio, she asked, “Got anything to drink? I might need to calm my nerves a little.”
“Wanna shot of vodka?” I offered, rummaging around in my freezer for my bottle of Reyka. “This stuff is filtered through lava rocks. It’s really smooth.”
“Yeah, just like its owner,” Joyce needled me with a wink. “Okay, hit me.”
I found my shot glasses—Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics—and we each took a slug of cold, clear, liquid calm.
We started making out standing in the kitchen area, then drifted over to the bed. We haphazardly grabbed each other’s body parts until we both looked down and saw that Joyce’s dress had one bare boob pulled up out of the neckline, which I was licking while running my hands over her bare ass cheeks, and my shirt was unbuttoned and restricting my range of motion somewhat. Separating for a moment, we each stripped off everything except our underwear. Joyce kept her bra on, but I hefted her other boob out so they both were available for sucking. She reclined on my bed and reached out her hand, rubbing the bulge in my undershorts and making appreciative noises. I’d had the foresight to take a Viagra before leaving for the museum.
I slipped my left hand down the front of her underpants and fingered her clitoral area for a minute before reaching farther down and finding her wet warmth. With her clit now lubricated, Joyce writhed and cooed, then grabbed my right hand and began sucking my finger. I’m not super into finger-sucking, so…
I stood back for a second and whipped off my boxer briefs, then moved closer to the pillows and knelt beside her head as I slid my left hand back inside her panties. Joyce turned towards me and took my stiff cock in her mouth, pumping slowly and humming sounds of pleasure as I finger-fucked her. I gently stroked her hair but took care to not grab the back of her head because we hadn’t discussed those boundaries. After a time, she quickened her pace on my dick, and I quickened my pace on her clit, and she narrated her impending orgasm with muffled moans.
“Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!” she grunted before pulling her mouth off my dick. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Fuuuck!” she wailed as she climaxed, while I rubbed the head of my cock along her crimson lips. Joyce took a couple of minutes to recover while I reached underneath her back and popped open the hooks of her bra—one, two, three, hang on a sec… there we go, four—and removed it before easing her undies down her legs and over her feet.
“Y’all ready for this?” I referenced Space Jam, then jammed her inner space with my stiff dick. We fucked for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, then as usual, I was in danger of running out of breath before I scored the winning basket.
“Pinch my tits!” I commanded hoarsely, and Joyce grabbed hold and gave me a pair of titty-twisters I wouldn’t soon forget. I thrust in as deep as I could, then held still, paralyzed in ecstatic agony, as my cock pumped spurt after spurt of cum inside her beautiful pussy.
“Are you gonna eat that?” Joyce inquired a moment later.
“Man, I have eaten a lot of my own cum this past week.”
“Well, you make the mess, you clean it up,” Joyce observed with one eyebrow slightly raised.
“Fine,” I acceded, withdrawing my dick and scooting down to kiss her blonde bush. “But next time—”
“Oh, you think there’ll be a next time?”
“Next time,” I continued before tonguing her dripping cunt, “I’ll be cleaning up between your gorgeous tits.”
