Each of the women below has gotten my adrenaline running, has gotten my dick hard. And each has disappeared. These pictures aren’t of them. But they’re of women who remind me of them. This post is the first of a series of posts on the ones that get away, the ones that ghost, that disappear on me.
Nina (not her real name – even though she ghosted on me, I like to preserve anonymity), a stunning young woman with whom I matched on Tinder. We had a brief flirtation and then, poof, she was gone. She began with a fundamental misunderstanding – “I’m afraid we don’t seem compatible sexually :/ I’m submissive…” she wrote. I set her straight. She executed one small task for me. A task that got me hard, that got her wet. And then, she stopped responding. I presented my second task (to pick a post from my blog that she liked and to tell me why), and she was gone.
Ellen (again, not real name), a spectacular, spectacular blonde. She appears too good to be true. Her blonde hair is curly and hangs down just to her clavicle, in her profile picture. Her teeth are gleaming, perfect. Her smile, insanely sexy. She looks like… well, like the woman Tinder would use to advertise the riches that await us within. Her other pictures have a stylized, almost photoshopped look to them, leading me to wonder if she wasn’t, actually, a bot. A significant proportion of women’s profiles – and a higher proportion of those who match with me – are bots. But quickly, she confirmed she’s not a bot. And then, equally quickly, she confirmed that she’s not (interested in being?) a reliable correspondent. In no time, she announced her departure to far away. Asked for my phone number, to connect on WhatsApp, and to send me pictures. (Which was odd, given where our conversation had led.) And then, she was gone….
Meg: She was the most promising of this batch. We had good conversation – as good as one can have within the confines of Tinder. And then she disappeared for a few days. And then returned, explaining she’d deleted Tinder, but now was back. Ah – an ambivalent woman. I like ambivalence. She too answered some questions of mine, executed some requests. And disappeared again. And reappeared again. This time, she gave me her number, so we could be in touch when she disappeared again. But of course, after just a little back and forth, she stopped replying to my texts.
Rose: She’s far away. I like her. She and I clicked well initially. But then, she realized that she couldn’t give me what I want, that I’m too demanding for her. Which is odd, because what I’d asked her to do was minimal, and I’d given her over a week to complete a task that would take all of three minutes. Maybe even one. But she was gone. That said? I have a fantasy that she and Allie might connect. They live near one another, and Allie’s in the mood to go down on a woman. I’m hopeful that I might facilitate an orgasm or three.
Anya. She comes and goes. Lately, she’s asked me not to be in touch with her. I’m always respectful of her requests, but I’ll note that she always comes back, sending me sexy selfies and professing hunger. We’ve met, now, twice, each time, chastely. I trust she’ll be back.
Luna – the spectacularly beautiful, spectacularly intelligent, woman with whom I had so much fun a few summers ago. It was Luna who inspired, who demanded, my very useful code of conduct. She sends me the odd Snapchat, but never replies to anything I say. My dick gets hard just saying her name. This morning, I saw her doppelganger on the street, and it set my mind to running….
And, of course, Jenn. Jenn, whose clit I licked for twelve minutes, who promised much, and then, having collected her pleasure, was gone. I remain hopeful that she’ll swallow my cum before the summer is out.
I’m sad to have lost all these women. I’m hopeful that at least a couple will return. And I’m grateful for the adrenaline, and the erections, they’ve let loose in me.