It was the night before my date with Brian and most of the dating preparation had taken place. My nails were manicured, roots were tinted and I had even booked in for some dermaplaning, not willing to risk a hint of roughness or stubble if he stroked my face… or fanny; so the waxing was also complete. It felt so satisfying to get rid of vulvarine and welcome back my plucked pink princess. Since Sugar Daddy, I avoided waxing as if I didn’t trust myself with a perfect pussy. It seemed like such a waste if I was the only one enjoying it and with all that excess hair gone I straight away felt three stone lighter! I couldn’t wait to meet Brian in person, he was the first tinderer I had spoken to who seemed normal and fully interested in only meeting me. We had facetimed most nights and sent daily messages and the chat seemed to be heating up. It was if I knew him already and although I have my “no sex on the first date” rule, I had a feeling I was going to let this one slide (right into my vagina). I couldn’t sleep in anticipation and neither could he. We were pinging back and forth into the early hours before I eventually had to call it a night. For the first time in months, I hadn’t thought about Sugar Daddy and it felt so uplifting to be finally moving on.
The next day I was on a high. I had a makeup appointment arranged and had the perfect outfit picked; a leather mini skirt and Zara shirt. He was picking me up from Central Station and we were traveling to Finneston for some food and drinks. I walked through central with butterflies that filled my stomach and I could have vomited with nerves. Brian was waiting for me in his flashy sports car parked right outside the taxi only bay; I was strangely impressed, I’ve got myself a bad boy, I thought. He was talking on the phone outside his car as I was walking over to him. He looked just as gorgeous as he did in his pictures. He had blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and sexy David Beckham style tattoo’s running up his arms. When he saw me approaching he came off his phone and we hugged for a brief moment. I couldn’t help but be aware of the accidental touch of his bulge pressing against me, it felt big and that was the first fanny flutter of the night. He followed me to the passenger side of the car and opened my door. When he re-entered the car we couldn’t stop smiling at one another. We giggled nervously but I felt relaxed within a couple of minutes and we carried the conversation on from our previous messages. He was so sexy in a designer jumper, jeans and his scent alone made my fanny pulsate. We went to his friend’s restaurant and I had an awkward moment of eating in front of him. I played with my food a little and pretended not to have a big appetite, when in reality, I had annihilated two rolls and sausage before I left home. We ordered cocktails after cocktails and were laughing the majority of the night. He had such good manners, was down to earth and was fucking hot! It was approaching the end of the night and Brian offered to drop me home in a taxi. We hadn’t kissed or touched and although he complimented me throughout the evening, I began having doubts if he found me attractive too. My insecurities were almost getting the better of me when he put his arm around me in the taxi and I instantly felt reassured.
We smiled at one another and in complete Glasgow style we shared our first kiss in the back of a taxi. His lips felt amazing. He cheekily bit my lip and I knew then, he was going to be some ride! I could feel my drunken heart pound in excitement. We approached my house and I invited Brian in for a coffee, to which he accepted and I knew this would be the night.
I lead him up the path holding his hand, whilst he kissed my neck and allowed the neighbors to get a good view, which I suppose, gave them time to get the earplugs looked out. I opened the living room door and welcomed him into my home. I subconsciously anticipated this to happen and my house was in pristine condition, not like Bin Laden’s cave which it usually resembled. The kettle hadn’t even hit boiling point and we began kissing, he was touching my face and moved lower to grope my boobs and went lower again. He slowly felt up my legs till he reached the honey pot. Bingo.
“Let’s go upstair’s” I whispered and sexily lead him to my bedroom allowing him to kiss me all the way upstairs. I felt so in control like a temptress leading him to my bedroom.
We had sex for hours. Jesus Christ, Sugar daddy had one hard on a night, there is most definatly something to be said about a younger man, I thought. He was so eager to please me and his touch and big dick were greatly welcomed by every part of me. He was perfect. My thoughts were interrupted by a cheeky lick of my nipple, surely he can’t go again? But yes, round four it was. I was lying there being pounded in my absolute element, he began lifting my legs on his shoulders. Good job I had yoga this week I thought. When all of a sudden I felt a sudden gush of water.
“Ohhhhh babe, your squirting!” He panted.
And yes I was. Jesus, I most certainly was. I could feel an obscenely large amount of fluid running down my arse being distributed all over my bed; I was soaking, the bed was ringing, Brian was drenched. We finished up shortly after that and I felt a sudden sense of accomplishment. I was a squirter. I had never done that before, and now, one night with this sexy god, I’ve flooded the whole fucking house. I was officially a squirter, aka a dirty bastard. Is my vagina giving me a sign here? Is this the man it wants for the rest of its life? I think so, I thought. Brian left mine around five as he was working the following day and there was no way I’d be allowing him any sleep at mine. I walked him downstairs, strutting about like an absolute porn star. Proud as punch.
“Goodnight babe” he shouted heading into a taxi to head home. My heart gushed. I whispered in my head “I love you” as I smirked psychotically just casually waving him off.
I walked back upstairs like john Wayne feeling exhausted, bruised but extremely satisfied. I lay on top of my bed smiling away to myself pathetically. What a night and what a man. I wonder when he will message me, I began thinking of the amazing things we had just done when suddenly I had a terrible whiff of a strange strong odor. What is that? I thought. I started sniffing around my room like a crazed Spaniel looking for a moldy pizza or dead fucking animal when I realised the smell was coming from the puddle of fluid on my bed. My fluid. My squirt. I slowly approached it getting closer and closer until reality hit home. I stopped. My eyes opened wide and my heart began pounding, I was shocked. My big old squirt was a large pile of piss and my bed was reeking of urine. I had pissed all over my potential husband and it was so strong and concentrated there was no denying it. Looks like my porn career is over before it has begun, I thought. But wait, his jumper was saturated. He is going to smell that and realise I’ve pissed on him. The first time we have sex and I go and urinate all over this poor guy. By now he has probably had a whiff in the taxi or maybe that’s the real reason he left, I thought. I lay there in a pile of my bodily secretions on an ultimate low, the alcohol was wearing off and my hangover was kicking in. This was the definition of “The Fear”. The anticipation was killing me and I didn’t know if he’d text. Maybe I should text him and explain? I didn’t want to risk the embarrassment and perhaps playing dumb was the best way to deal with this. I rummaged through the cupboard for a blanket and slept on the sofa for a couple of hours to avoid the humiliation of stripping my pissy bed sheets and remaking my bed.
I slept for a few hours wakening up briefly in between to check for correspondence from Brian. I checked all social media platforms, even a wee facebook like right now would offer me some sort of reassurance. Nothing. Would this be it? I started to replay every moment of last night in my head and thought of things I could have done differently. Maybe, he just didn’t like me? Or, perhaps, I shouldn’t have slept with him on the first night? Who am I kidding, I thought. I have pissed all over a guy I have met once and I’m expecting a callback. My heart sank. I felt sick and disappointed with my self and my weak bladder. I should have gone to the toilet before sex or next time I’ll drink lots of water to help dilute the urine and disguise the strong odor. Why was this happening to me? Is it really time to bring out the Tenna Ladies and I’m just approaching thirty? All I could do now was wait… and wait…
datingforglasgowgirls 
OMG these keep getting better! I love them!
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One of the funniest blogs I have ever read. Can’t stop laughing every time I read them , can relate to so many of them !
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