Worst Second Date Ever
I met Kimberly through a friend at work, and had a lovely first coffee date with her. Even ended the night with a quick, cream-and-sugar kiss on the lips, and she gave me her phone number. Didn’t take much arm-twisting to convince her to go on a second date with me.
Picked her up at seven. I wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and shiny black shoes. Kimberly wore a red sundress and three inch heeled sandals. She greeted me with a more passionate kiss this time, but again all too quick.
After that, the evening went from good, to bad, to what the fuck just happened?
Around the corner from her house, I got a flat tire, and had to change it. Which made us late for our dinner reservation. The maitre’d had given away our table, and we waited for an hour. My lasagna came out cold, and her house salad featured wilted lettuce and one lousy crouton. After an unsatisfying meal, I took her to the cinema, only to discover that it was children’s night or something. A lot of screaming brats and a limited selection of cartoons convinced me to take her somewhere else.
She chose a coffee shop next to a bookstore. A mob was outside the bookstore, waiting for a signing with some wannabe erotica author. The barista had smeared makeup and smelled like a pussy, and messed up our orders of hot chocolate.
“Well,” Kimberly said, and sipped the white chocolate mocha she didn’t order. “I’ve never been on a date quite like this.”
I blew on my triple espresso latte, afraid to actually drink it. “Wish I could take credit for planning all this.”
“I’d be truly impressed if you did.” Her tone was dry, sarcastic. The crinkle in the corners of her eyes made her look dangerous. We shared a long moment, staring at each other over our styrofoam cups, tired smiles on both our faces.
The moment was interrupted by a vibrating sound. And it almost certainly wasn’t a coffee grinder in the shop’s back room.
Kimberly quizzically arched an eyebrow up, the dangerous look intensifying. I had to lean forward, to hide the erection poking up my jeans. The vibrating got kicked up a notch, then another. A low feminine squeal echoed from somewhere behind the counter. Kimberly at the straps of her sundress.
Then she stood up, taking my drink away, and tossed both cups into the nearest waste-bin, sashaying her hips as she strutted. I was convinced she wanted to leave, but instead she pointed to the ugly green couch near the coffee shop’s fake fireplace. I tried my best to hide my boner, but Kimberly glanced down at it anyway. I closed the front window blinds.
I fished in my pocket and brought out a condom. I always come prepared, though I never expect anything on a date, especially a second date. At the same time, Kimberly dug around in her purse, and brought out a condom. Same brand as mine, same packaging.
She giggled. I chuckled. We both shared a belly-aching laugh.
And then I pushed her to the couch and kissed her. A gentle brush of lips. Tongue. Teeth. Then the fondling started. I grabbed one of her melons, gave it a firm squeeze. Her hand slid up my thigh, and made a bee-line to the zipper.
This was happening so very fast. But I wasn’t going to tell her no. I couldn’t.
The vibrator buzzed even louder, like some giant angry insect. Surely the barista had it on max. I hoped her battery wouldn’t run dry any time soon.
Kimberly ripped open my dress shirt, and twisted my nipples. I tore the sundress straps down, along with her bra straps, and popped her breasts out. I tried to suckle her, but she insisted on opening my jeans. I didn’t deny her.
She gasped when she saw my cock flop out, and wasted little time in sucking it. I had to pull her head away by her hair, and force her down on her back. I ripped her silky pink panties off, and ate her like the dinner I didn’t get to enjoy earlier. Her moans were soft, subdued, and matched the moans coming from the hiding barista.
Then I plunged a finger inside Kimberly, and hooked her right on the G-spot. I made short work of her, and sprayed an orgasm all over the couch.
I stroked myself, letting Kimberly calm down a little. Her skin was flushed, hair sticky with sweat as if she’d been working out. Then I put on the condom she had offered me.
Slid only the tip in at first. Back out. I enjoyed the way she squirmed under me. I rewarded her with the rest of my cock, balls deep.
Gripping her calves, I lifted her legs up over my shoulders.
Kimberly gripped the couch cushions, bucking her hips against me.
I fucked her. Slow, jack-hammered, slow again, wiggled my hips, pumped the juices out of her. Her tits jiggled around as I pumped her. Kimberly screamed, and buried her face with her arms.
I pulled out, tore off the condom, and blew the biggest damn load across her dress. Even managed to sprinkle her left boob. Then I fell into her arms, and we made out.
After a few minutes, Kimberly pushed me away, and we got dressed again. As best we could at any rate. I glowed with exhaustion, and couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was radiant.
Once dressed and the used condom thrown away, the barista came out from the back room, haired messed up and what little left of her makeup smeared down her face.
“Oh, shit,” the barista said. “I didn’t realize you guys were still here.”
I winked at the girl. “It’s okay.”
“Huh?” the barista said. “I’m half deaf.” She pulled out a hearing aid to show us.
I tipped the girl twenty bucks and Kimberly and I left.
“That, was the worst date ever,” Kimberly said, hand in the crook of my arm.
“Want a repeat next Friday?” I asked.
“Next time, we’ll use your condom.” Kimberly kissed me.
Our next date was a lot better. Turns out, the deaf barista always takes an extended break at the same time every night. She even locked the door next time, and doesn’t seem to mind that Kimberly and I have completely ruined the couch.
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