I’m not sure how many of these I will write my precious but 2009 has been a particular eventful year for dating These are in no particular order and I’m reluctant to grade them on performance but as far as entertainment value…well you be the judge.

We had met a few weeks earlier and the sexual energy was palpable. The big date night arrived and I wanted to make sure that everything went to plan. I was getting ready to meet a guy whose spanglish texting and over excited pleas to be my lover were quite endearing. What could go wrong?

Cute underwear? -Check
An outfit that says you know you want to and just on the wrong side of tight? -Check check
Useful Spanish phrases :
Dont stop – no pares
Right there – mas duro
Que grande la tienes -it’s so big (tick only if it applies) check check check

I arrived in Kentish town at 830 and after spending some money on vodka cranberry he took me to a nice flat ….which he shared with his religious auntie. He told me we had to be quiet but luckily she wasn’t in cos I told him that if it went well I wouldn’t help but show my appreciation. I ignored the stale smell of weed and the bikini clad posters which reminded me of my school boyfriend. Do men STILL do that?

So we started off with him teaching me to salsa which sadly I am still yet to master. Within minutes this had digressed into heavy petting and both of us naked. It was on! He was very attentive and all about the foreplay. BINGO! Then, just as I was primed the tricky condom moment came up. His strategy was just to go forth and conquer whereas I, like all good women do not go out without a raincoat. Maybe it’s an afro hair thing.  Turns out he didn’t have any and NEVER used them. I reluctantly climbed off his hot fit sticky frame and with some regret started putting my clothes on. (note to self – the pink lace gossard number just in case I revisit)

Then just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse his religious aunt came back and had brought her church with her. 20 minutes later there was no escaping it. I had to pause their singing, say hi and leave with everyone thinking they knew what went on in that room. I wanted to shout back that we actually didn’t have sex cos my parents raised me right unlike the wastrel nephew.

So 10pm Im almost back at my house and I had a brainwave? Why waste all that good foreplay? I called up an old f*** buddy just to see how he was doing. But as he eagerly picked up the bait I realised that I was underprepared for a spontaneous bootycall. I would have to make the bed, do the dishes and change underwear. He’s already seen the pink gossard set.

So I was home by 11 lamenting a shag that almost was. The closest I got to a Cuban after that were my cigars. Next time, I’ll tidy my place and take my own condoms. Just in case;).

© Chelsea Black

One comment

  1. […] my head you dance better when drunk. I remember The Cuban and how I ignored the fact that he was older (hiding beneath a low hat I didn’t really see how […]

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