The quest to find Mr right was most definitely on. I had eventually stopped communicating with “The Gusset” and turned all my attention to my new flame, Jack. I’ll admit, not the best conversationalist, but this ones pictures, WOW! He was tall, athletic, tanned skin and lets just say his dick caught my eye from his work out photographs. My friends and I were zooming in on that bulging ballsack in a desperate attempt to establish if this poor guy had a massive hernia or was just truly blessed. We decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and I was looking forward to finding out.

My first impressions were all positive . His hair was blowing in the wind like a “Just for men’s” advert.  It was kind of Bradley Cooper vibes, kind of Ozzy Osbourne, but hey, I liked it! I noticed other girls looking at him too and I couldn’t blame them, there was a lot to look at (and I’m not even referring to that bulge) this stud was six foot five! He was certainly handsome and seemed charming. I could tell immediatly that he was attracted to me and I found him extremely fuckable. We walked down Byres Road to a little pub and he bought me a drink. He started to tell me about himself and to be honest the guy never stopped. Oh my god, he didn’t shutup. I started to resemble the Churchill dog, nodding away at his shit patter and self absorbed lifestyle. I was switching off. If I had said I had been to Tenerife he had been to Eleven-arife, one of those people. He explained in his spare time he played tennis and won everything! Apparently his “serve is unreturnable”. Aye? Nae bother Rafa, I thought. I managed to resist an eye roll and I smiled politely looking really unimpressed. When I eventually got a word in I excused myself from the table and headed to the bathroom.

I sat in the cubicle wondering if this dating game was really for me. I was feeling an unusual amount of self pity and before I knew it I was opening up old text messages from my previous fuck buddy, Sugar Daddy. He is a guy I met one night at a charitable ball and is ALOT older than myself. Instant attraction was not something I had with him, he was balding,  greyish beard and most definitely not my usual type. He reminds me of a sexy tanned Harry Hill; I came up with this comparison when he was really going for it on top of me one night, he always insisted on keeping his glasses on and if I looked at him from a certain angle I was almost sure I was fucking Harry Hill or the bald guy from master chef.  It’s certainly wasn’t about looks initially but within five minutes of being in his company you are drawn to his flamboyant style, his daddy masculinity and his incredible intelligence. He walked straight up to me at the ball, asked for a dance then kissed me in the middle of the dance floor.  His confidence was oozing and we began seeing one another immediately.  We picked up his name one evening he overheard girls at the bar discussing if they thought he was my Sugar Daddy.  He found this hilarious and I don’t think I’ve used his real name since, he loves it of course. I’m still unsure if they were making reference to his age or my prostitution style dress that evening but either could be true. The sex with Sugar Daddy is fucking mind blowing and his filthy dominant style quite frankly deserves a full blog of appreciation all of it’s own. He has a high flying career and money coming out of his arsehole. Perfect? You may think. But monogamy was something I realised this prick wasn’t accustomed too and was in fact the initial reason I ended up online dating in the first instance.

I sat in the cubicle scrolling through old messages, smiling away to myself pathetically. We hadn’t spoke in months, although, I saw him at the gym last week and I began stretching frantically on a mat in a tragic bid to show him what he was missing. On reflection, I’m pretty sure I resembled more Vanessa Feltz than the Emily Shak look I was attempting that day. It’s perhaps one of the many reasons he hadn’t contacted me but my mind started to miss him regardless. I thought of the sex of course, but also the great chats we had compared to the one-sided conversation I was having upstairs with Jack. I started to wonder if it was my fault we split? Will I text him and ask him to meet me? Will he even respond? Oh god, this is the gin talking again… Or is it my heart?… More likely my cock thirsty vagina. But I’ll message him anyway, I thought. I can always blame the alcohol later when he doesn’t acknowledge me. I continued to sit in the cubicle not anticipating any response. He won’t reply, I thought. Delivered. Sugar Daddy is typing… Shit! We quickly arrange a visit as he lives in that neighbourhood and I go back to my date, thank him for a lovely evening and leave.

I was approaching Sugar Daddy’s house in a taxi when all of a sudden I had second thoughts. Did I really want to re-enter psychoville? It took me weeks to even get up out of bed when  we ended things and even when I did it was predominantly for drive by’s of his posh West End house. Endless messages and quotes I had saved to my phone that I wanted to send him but thankfully my friends intervened (or I probably would have been served with a restraining order right now). I wanted to have a fun night with him and not drag up the past which is always difficult when feelings (and Gin) are involved. I knocked the door and he greeted me with a sexy smile and a Cosmopolitan (looking back the Cosmo was very cringe) but I managed to convince myself in that moment that he was so thoughtful preparing my favourite cocktail, my heart wasn’t the only thing that immediately gushed. He was wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt that night, his tanned Mediterranean body pressed against the door which he held open with his muscular arms.

“Hey Baby” he said.

Damn, this is the kind of night I had hoped for! I really missed this. As soon as the door shut we began kissing instantaneously. His big lips tasted so soft and I forgot how good a kisser he was. We immediately started undressing each other and he picked me up by the arse and began walking with me. We were still kissing and he threw me against the kitchen wall pushing my arms above my head. I felt like Dakota Johnson in a very Christian Grey looking scene.  How is it possible for this man to get even sexier?  I thought.  He sexily knelt to the floor, slipped off my shoe and licked all the way up. Jesus Christ, I was in orgasm heaven.

The next morning I woke up hungover and questioning last nights decisions. I noticed Sugar Daddy had lots of missed calls overnight and he was ignoring a constant flow of messages coming through. I wasn’t surprised but my heart felt a little deflated. Deep down I knew this situation didn’t have a happy ending but I couldn’t help but want to stay with him a little longer. He was lying facing one direction of the room and I was facing the other. I started rustling around my side of the bed but he wasn’t disturbed. I pushed my hand back under the bed covers and thought I’ll give him a little surprise to wake up too. I started gently rubbing his balls for a couple of minutes moaning away in a desperate plea to sound sexy and horny. I was still half asleep and my eyes were tight shut but I was expecting him to turn around and give me some attention or react in some way. He didn’t move a muscle. Had I done something wrong? I thought. Maybe he is regretting last night after all? OMG, maybe he has met someone else and that’s who keeps calling? A million questions were flying through my confused dehydrated head and I was becoming more and more awake until I had a sudden realisation… His balls feel really, really small. My heart skipped a beat and I froze unable to move my body or my creepy hand for a couple of seconds. I let time pass until I had the confidence to investigate. I frantically pulled back the bed covers. No, no NOOOOO! This can’t be happening! Lying open legged and wide eyed staring directly at me was Tyson his little French Bulldog. I was fucking molesting Sugar Daddy’s fucking dog! I screamed loudly. The dog jumped up as did Sugar Daddy;

“I’ve been touching Tyson’s balls” I screeched. I had chills all over my quivering body.

“I’m so so sorry, I thought they were yours”. I began to explain myself. I was rubbing my perverted hands up and down his Egyptian cotton sheets in absolute disgust.

He erupted into hysterical laughing so hard that I eventually joined in. He was patting the bed and the dog began barking and jumping around the bedroom fucking wagging his tail.   Sugar Daddy jumped on top of me once again, “Lucky Fucking Tyson eh”, we spent most of the morning in bed and it felt great being so comfortable again.

We had such an amazing time together but I realise I can’t go back. I love spending time with him and we have the best sexual relationship I’ve ever had but I know I deserve more.  I’m positive he enjoys my company just as much but still at his dilfy old age he’s not ready to settle down.  I know I need something more stable and I could never trust him. I’m sure his dog however would LOVE it if we were to work things out; but for my own sanity, I had to wash my hands of the situation, like literally, I scrubbed my hands for days! I think I put so much hope into clicking with Jack I felt disappointed and sought attention elsewhere that night. Saying goodbye to Sugar Daddy was difficult the next morning as we both knew it would be the last time….. For a while anyway that is. But for now, it’s onwards and upwards for me and back to the swiping game.

*Disclaimer:  No animals were harmed or injured when this blog occurred. *