Delicious Tacos - The Pussy

You meet at a bar. You have nothing to talk about so you talk about Tinder. How long you’ve been on. This is actually my first ever Tinder date, you tell her. Me too she says. Fuck. I wanted a veteran. Now I have to do a bunch of god damn hand holding. Agnes does not want to be with me. She is overseas taking swarthy Mediterranean cock in all orifices. I want what was promised: Grindr for straight people so I can forget her for five minutes.

I miss her and I miss her stupid dog and I keep pushing it down and it keeps coming back.

Paul McCartney is playing at Dodger stadium. The traffic is crazy. Let’s go up to the park and maybe we can hear it, I tell her on her third beer. You still have to say stuff like that. You can’t just say anyway let’s go fuck. The park is behind my apartment. I put her against a tree and lift her up dress and fingerfuck her until she’s hot enough to start biting my lip. Paul sings We Can Work It Out. The old man sounds pretty good. We go inside.

Tonight I have another date. She is also married but up front about it. Open relationship. I want to meet a nice girl but instead I’m going to fuck seven girls in seven days. I start a new job Monday and it’ll kill my dating life. If I get that much new pussy it’ll last me until the stress passes, I reason. She has dreadlocks. She probably goes to Burning Man. Maybe she’ll let me hit it raw.

It’s OKCupid without the words. On OKCupid you scan through profiles. Murmur ugly, stupid, yes, ugly, fat, yes, stupid, stupid. Tinder is ugly, fat, yes, ugly, fat, yes, ugly. People are so stupid they had to make stupid stop being a dealbreaker.

You both hit yes and it tells you and you ask her out. You have one picture up. 21 words. Girls still match with you. You thought you were a wizard before. That girls read your words and saw something. No, they just like your face. You’re a worthless sack of shit and no one will ever love you. But hey, at least you get laid.

In conclusion: three and a half stars.

That Puerto Rican girl Cynthia. Perfect tits perfect ass near perfect face. I don’t remember if she had a perfect pussy but I remember after I came too fast the first time she got me hard again in five minutes by sucking me off and doing some weird trick with my balls. Kind of reaching through my sack and fiddling with something the way you would reattach a hose on a car engine and I got stiff like a reflex. The first time was for me, telling her to go slow, go slow, then blasting in her in two minutes when she was on top. Second time was for her, doggy style shoving her face in the pillow so she couldn’t breath and then letting her up and yanking a fistful of ponytail back, pulling her ass back into me, choking her, pounding her like a jackrabbit. Not my thing but it got her off. She’d been to Japan, she said. It’s so safe people sleep on the street. All their weird sex stuff is because there’s no connection between people sexually. It’s about the individual’s fantasy. E.g. you wrap me in saran wrap and tickle under my nose with fifteen year old girls sweaty panties while I shit myself. Really interesting stuff, she said. Why didn’t I call her– she was pretty smart too, and had her shit together. It was because she wouldn’t kiss me at first. She’d only kiss when she got really hot. Before that she would just nibble on your lip a little and then pull her head back and laugh. It takes all kinds.

When I fuck a girl, to stay hard, I have to think about getting her pregnant, moving to the suburbs, having her quit her job, me making enough money for both of us. Having her love me, having us give up this war of dick pussy money. Just live in a house together. Nice yard with trees. Wake up beside her on a fall morning. Watch her while she sleeps. How her hair lies on the pillow. The smell of her neck.

When I fuck a girl, to stay hard, I have to imagine watching her age, her watching me age, still loving her. Loving the smell of her neck at 50. Taking care of her. One of us does the work, the other pays the bills. One of us cooks, the other does the dishes. Maybe Astral Weeks is playing as I pull the chicken out and then the pan I used to cook the stuffing outside the bird at the end so it gets that crust. Oh honey, this is the best one yet she says when she takes a bite. When I fuck a girl, to stay hard I have to imagine loving her, being loved, and then a little boy or maybe a girl with her hair my eyes having her first day of school and we’re nervous but proud. We can’t believe this is happening. I have to imagine coming home from work and she’s there watching some stupid shit like Pretty Little Liars and she’s embarrassed that she got caught. And I sit down for a second to laugh at the show in a mean way but end up getting engrossed and we spend all night like that on the couch together. I have to think about our kids and taking them back to the lake where I grew up and watching them swim, watching my dad watch my kids before he dies. Showing her things I never showed anybody. Her showing me things she never showed anybody. One of us dies with the other one holding their hand. The other one dies soon after, like Johnny and June Carter Cash. Scatter our ashes by the lake and our kids are sad but they grew up to be good people and their kids are good people too, because of us.

It’s sick, I know. But that’s what I need to stay hard. Right up until the last second, when I pull out and squirt cum on her navel while she laughs. And then I don’t call her, she’s too old. She doesn’t call me, I’m gross and have a small dick. Tomorrow we get back on Tinder. Find another one.

Mary. Mary from AA.. She is 34 years old, she revealed. 34! She looks 14. Asians.

I need her to move into my apartment. Cocoon herself in a sleeping bag on my couch and not shower for 15 days. I come home and just sniff her armpits and we rut like demons. I need her to stroke my hair and tell me not to worry about my job. Fold herself into me while we fall asleep watching Game of Thrones. We smoke on the porch and then I bend her over the rail and breed her like a prize hog in front of the neighbors. I need her to crawl on my back after leg day. Oil up my ass and walk on my spine. Answer in garbled half-English when I ask if I should take my underwear off….

I’m getting her mixed in with the Thai massage I got yesterday. The masseuse was fat but she walked on my back anyway. Spine popped like a machine gun. She kept pulling down my underwear to get at my ass. I’d said my lower back hurt. And it did, from Romanian deadlifts. But Thai massage places– “lower back” means “stroke my ass.” “Upper thighs” means “please please jerk me off.” My lower back hurt like fuck and I told her so. But what she did was reach into my cat underwear and finger my crack. I got an erection. Asked her if I should take my underwear off. Not so she could jerk me off but because I like those cat underwear. They are my “date” underwear. I don’t want them to get oily.

She didn’t speak good English. It came off like I was asking her to stroke my pecker, which was admittedly hard. Should I, uh, should I take these off , I asked, trying to make it clear that I was not saying please rub this ragingly hard penis . Not that I didn’t want her to but they have a big sign; it says WE GIVE MASSAGE ONLY, NOTHING ELSE. I don’t want to creep her out. I want her to suck my dick but I accept that she won’t. She won’t suck me off but she will carefully cup and tickle my oily ass until my cock is so stiff it’s glowing and then stand on my spine and crush the boner she made into the thin prison mattress. I just need her to flip me over and squat and wrap her hot fat third world twat around my meatpipe. Let me cum in her raw in two pumps and bear my child and never speak to me about it or make me pay for it. Why is that too much to ask.