Putin

I have had very poor luck with RSVP. And by poor I mean no interest from anyone ever. Well, a couple of 20-something immigrants in western Sydney but they don’t count because 20, geographically unrealistic and grammar.

Even when I overhauled the profile I wasn’t getting approached.

And then there was Putin. I’d seen his profile before but something had stopped me “sending a kiss” (gag). This time I did and he was back to me like lightening.

I liked him, he was a bit older (early 50s), a surfer and lived relatively nearby.

Suave is the best way to describe his initial contact, let’s cook and sip vino next week, let’s be sexy and stylish and get a sexy black dress ready – you get the drift.

And then I started to realise Putin was all about the detail. What will you be wearing under the lbd, where does your lbd finish, make sure you’re nice and smooth all over, and then this: I want my handsome manhood to feel all three of your sweet spots.

HANDSOME MANHOOD.

I should have pulled out (geddit) then and there.

THEN – because of course it gets better – the fantasty setting begins: “Let’s not say a word, just lock eyes, sip a glass of champagne, then I ease into your arse as I play with your clit, when I am all the way in just before I blow I say, hello :)”

Here I’m going to say it, what the FUCK is with guys and arse sex? We’ve established I like it but certainly not first cab off the rank. It makes me feel incredibly vulnerable and close to the person doing it so I’d much prefer there to be some connection and trust established first. Yes, I have come to this realisation during recent proclivities.

The sexting continues in the lead-up to our ‘date’. He wants pictures of my toes, he talks about “the narrative”, writing our own lines, entering each other’s chapters (!) and over and over about setting up the scene when we meet. “Tell me the plan in your words as you know it.” So much talk of lubing up my arse and me doing a douche. And then it starts getting weird. (As if any of this was not already on the weird radar.) He wants me to.walk.him.through. how I do the douche. What.the.actual.fuck?

At one stage he tells me he loves detail. I let him know I would never have guessed…

And then there was this: “When you need to go to the ladies, before we speak when you are here, u will grab my hand, I will show u the ladies, pull your panties down, u will pee then I will wipe u, then pull your panties up… you will kiss me softly and give me a gentle hug, then we will go back to sipping vino with candles.”

ALARM BELLS ALARM BELLS ALARM BELLS

I go ahead with it (of course I do) but I do not go to the bathroom. In fact I am determined not to need to go to the bathroom all night.

The scenario plays out exactly as we had rehashed (over and over again) and look, it is actually really hot.

We talk politics and sip wine, he is incredibly articulate but I struggle to get a word in edgeways.

More (anal) sex.

Dinner – he made me dinner. It was delicious. We sit outside, drink more wine and he keeps talking.

By this time I am so busting I think I might have a bladder explosion. I confess I need to pee and he tells me he’s going to let me get away with it this time but next time he will wipe me. Jesus.

More (anal) sex.

I go home.

He texted me the next morning to see how I was and that’s been it.

Putin is no more.

And I can pee in peace.

mtc

RD