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I dated this guy a year ago that was the complete opposite of the type of man I’m usually attracted to. I should stop right here and clarify that “dated” basically means I had sex with him, or at least intended to. We never did get around to the sex part and you’ll understand why a bit later in this post.
We met one evening when I played co-host on my friend’s podcast. Mr. Potential Lover Lover happened to own the studio it was recorded in and had decided to sit in on my guest appearance after hearing so much about me. At first glance I didn’t have much interest in him. He was a geek. He was overweight. He was bald. But as we talked I found myself insanely attracted to him despite his exterior. Why? Because he made me laugh and was ridiculously witty.
Humor is my kryptonite.
During my guest appearance we flirted on-air. By the time I left the studio that night my mind was made up about wanting to have sex with him. We exchanged numbers and talked for several weeks afterwards, meeting up a few times at public events but never getting time alone. That is until we made plans to have a sleepover at his place following another appearance I was making on my friend’s podcast.
A few hours before my arrival he’d told me he went out and got me a gift.
“I can’t wait to slip this on you…” he’d said.
From his clues about it being red and something I could wear I thought it was a piece of lingerie. My mind began to fantasize about what it looked like and what his expression would be when I finally tried it on for him. The more I thought about it the hotter I got. I couldn’t wait to get him inside of me after I pranced around in that lingerie.
I arrived at the studio that night with condoms and a grin, but before we could be alone I had to record the podcast with my friend. He sat beside me in the studio the entire time, periodically teasing me by slipping his hands under my skirt beneath the table. The threat of someone else noticing turned me on immensely. By the time we finished recording that night I could hardly contain myself. I wanted my gift and I wanted him even more.
After everyone left we made our way up to the bedroom above the studio. I pressed myself against him as we kissed and in return he placed his hand between my thighs, using his fingers to push my panties to the side. He stared at me and gave a devilish grin, as he now felt just how much I wanted him.
He removed my clothes, tasting every inch of my skin with his tongue as it became bare, until I stood before him completely nude.
“Now about that present,” he said. And with that he reached beneath the bed and pulled out a small red bag filled with tissue paper.
“Go ahead, open it.”
I looked at him with a girlish smile and kissed him in appreciation. I’d never been gifted a piece of lingerie before and couldn’t wait to see what he’d picked out for me.
I took out the tissue paper and peeked inside. I could see something red, but couldn’t quite make out what it was in the dim lighting. That’s when I placed my hand inside and pulled out the gift. Two gifts actually. Only what he got me wasn’t the satin teddy or raunchy pair of crotchless panties I had hoped for.
What I found instead was a red dog collar and matching leash.
Please note: I do not own a dog.
This gave a whole new meaning to the term doggystyle.
At first I thought it was a joke, but from the way he was panting and attempting to place the collar around my neck I quickly realized he was serious. Like a dog caught in headlights I wasn’t sure what to do. I giggled nervously while my mind quickly formulated a plan.
I had two choices: I could allow this freak to parade me around the room like a toy poodle or I could get the fuck out of there.
I chose the latter.
“Sit,” I said.
As he sat on the edge of the bed I straddled his lap, lowered myself on top of him, and wrapped my legs around his waist. I then kissed his neck as I slipped the collar out of his hands.
“Stay,” I said.
I slowly placed the collar around his neck and told him to close his eyes. I then grabbed the leash and quickly looped it through the slots of his headboard, creating a makeshift knot as I clipped the other end onto the collar.
And with that I hopped off of him, grabbed my shit, and ran.
I’ve got 99 problems, but being someone’s bitch ain’t one.