Online Dating #1


My phone beeped, disruptin’ my favorite video. I stopped touchin’ myself long enough to see someone had liked my datin’ profile.

“This chick had better be worth the interruption,” I groaned.

I paused the scene right before the money shot, and adjusted my boys, tuckin’ them in nice and comfortable like. I scooped up my cellphone and punched in the code 6969 to unlock it, then pressed the datin’ app icon. I waited a moment for it to load then headed straight to her photos, not botherin’ to check if she’d written me anything.

No point in wastin’ that kind of time if she’s ugly. Am I right, fellas?

While waitin’, I caught her profile name: T3stedNeg4tive. I smiled and thought to myself we was off to a good start. That was until her photo loaded.


The picture was too dark. Couldn’t tell for shit what she actually looked like. I even tilted the phone, so the screen would catch the light, but it didn’t help much. I pinched-zoomed-in and could tell she was at least on the skinny side. I exhaled in relief. I’m sick and tired of them bigguns reachin’ out. Nothin’ against them, really. Just that they is expensive to date. Do you know how much I get from the state each month? Not enough to spend on feeding them heifers. I apologize. That wasn’t nice of me to say. I meant plus-size women.

Anyway, the photo test wasn’t a complete bust and I decided to read her profile. My boys had simmered down by then anyway, and I wasn’t in the mood to finish what I had started.

I noticed right away, accordin’ to her zip code, she was nearby. Thank you, Jesus. I’m sick of them women who live an hour away thinkin’ I’m gonna drive that far. Well, I might if they was were worth it. But they usually ain’t.

Where was I? Oh right.

I skimmed over her profile, checkin’ out her stats. She was forty-nine, which was in my range; at the top end, but at least she wasn’t in her fifties. Athletic build. Nice. Brunette. Not my first choice, but it’ll do. She checked off that salary wasn’t important, and that’s somethin’ I appreciate in a woman. Shows she’s more interested in how deep a man is. Like me. I got layers, you know.

The rest of her stats was pretty bland. But what caught my attention was she wrote she likes to stay in. Now, that translates into it won’t cost much to please her. Financially, that is. ‘Cause the other stuff, well, I ain’t never received no complaints.

I tapped the Mailbox icon to see what she wrote, and you know what? She ain’t even bother to send a message. She just “liked” me. Well, ain’t that the laziest thing. Whatever. They can’t all be perfect like me. Guess if I wanted to get laid, I had to do some work, and so I typed a message.

S’up? Nice profile. I think your attractive (which coulda been the truth for all I knew on account her picture weren’t good). Joe

I pressed SEND, eased back into my chair, and slid my hand into my pants. Now, my boys were right between that floppy and hard stage when my phone beeped again. I sat up straight and tapped open the message.

Wanna come over? Debra

Whoa! I didn’t know if she meant like now. I’d hoped so, ’cause my boys were itchin’ to go. I wrote back, ‘Sure.’

She responded pretty quick. I figured I musta been the only one she was conversin’ with, which meant my chance of gettin’ some was high. My boys were especially excited at that possibility.

She wrote, ‘Great. My roommate’s asleep. Hope you don’t mind someone here.

Mind? Oh, hell, no! There’s enough o’ me for two, but I didn’t say that. Didn’t want to give the wrong impression or nothin’. Instead, I got her address.

I wiped myself down with a cloth, splashed on some Aqua Velva, and did the sniff test to my clothes then put on the freshest. I did a few pushups and barbell curls to get a rock hard pump on, and stood in front of the mirror, flexing from different angles. Everything checked out all right. I was ready to go.


I drove there as fast as my ’82 Plymouth Champ would take me, which wasn’t sayin’ much, ’cause if I pushed her over 35, she rattled so hard it was damn near impossible to control. Just like a woman.

I pulled up to Debra’s building, and made a sharp left turn into the parking lot. A woman stumbled out in front of me, causing me to swerve my car and almost hit a dumpster.

“Stupid crackhead,” I muttered.

Well, I didn’t know if she was a crackhead. But given the neighborhood, you couldn’t blame me for assumin’. Especially with her crazy-ass hair and top half falling down on one side.

I circled around her building. Not once, but twice and couldn’t find the goddamn apartment. I saw that crackhead woman still standin’ there, and figured I’d ask if she knew. I cranked down my window and shouted, “Hey! You know where apartment thirty-one is at?”

She put her red lips to her cigarette and drew in a long breath. The tip glowed, and suddenly, my boys surged. I couldn’t believe I was gettin’ turned on by her. But there was somethin’ about the way she pursed her lips and stuck her hip out that got to me. Finally, she nodded and pointed over her shoulder to the second level. As she did, her left breast flopped out. I stared bug-eyed at it for a long moment. You would have, too. It was perfection. The right roundness and size; less than a handful and bigger than a mouthful. She caught me lookin’ and smiled at me. I looked away, my skin all tingly like then parked the car.

I headed up the stairs two steps at a time; didn’t want to keep Debra waitin’ any longer than necessary. First impressions, you know? I knocked on the door, and took a step back and waited.

No answer.

I peeked into the window, tryin’ not look like a creeper, but couldn’t see nothin’. Someone had pulled the curtains together tight. So, I waited another moment then knocked again.

Still no answer. I knocked a couple more times, and nothin’.


I started to leave, figurin’ it was too good to be true when that woman came stumblin’ up the stairs. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed this before, but up close, she looked like Keith Richards; wavy hair, sunken chest, slit eyes, ears stuck out wide, and grayish skin. I stepped outta her way to be polite, and then somethin’ happened I didn’t expect. She stopped at apartment thirty-one.

She turned to me and in a voice scratchy as a rake pulled over cement, she said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I wanted to finish my cigarette,” then ran her tongue over her lips, lookin’ me over.

“Debra?” I asked, and she smiled. Fuck! There ain’t no way she was forty-nine. I swear she looked seventy-five. No wonder her pictures were dark.

She opened the door and went inside then beckoned me in. I didn’t run like I knew I ought to. Instead, I thought about that Hansel kid in the fairytale. You know, where he’s lured in by the old woman, unable to resist her sweets. Damn that perfect lookin’ breast of hers.

She said, “My roommate’s passed out drunk over there,” and points to the couch. She added, “But if she wakes up, she might join us,” and right then, I was hooked.

My boys throbbed in my pants, pullin’ me in, and I closed the door behind me.

I knew there was all kinds of signs tellin’ me to leave. But you got to understand, there was the possibility of a threesome. It didn’t matter if one of them looked Keith Richards or that I had no idea what the passed out roommate looked like. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t in my right mind.

My boys had taken over.

Debra moved closer to me and I smelled stale beer and cigarettes on her breath. I’d smelled worse before so it didn’t bother me none.

Now, you might be wondering if I considered if I’d be able to forgive myself for going through with it. The answer is I did. But to be honest, I was so horny, I didn’t care. Could you blame me? It’s not like anyone would ever know, right?

Debra pulled my hand and led me to her bedroom. Along the way, I noticed her roommate sleeping, still. Damn! Oh well. One is better than none, I thought.

We went inside her room, and she shut the door. It was pretty dark in there, and I was grateful for that to be honest. Made it easier. She pressed her lips against mine, and they felt like two soft pillows. She started grindin’ against my leg, tuggin’ at my hair. I was hard as a rock.

I knew I should stop. I do have morals, you know. But by then, my hormones were ragin’ outta control. She might have been old, but she was the best kisser and with age comes experience, I told myself.

She pulled me down onto her bed, and I’m on top of her fully clothed, grindin’ away on each other. Then…Fuck my life. I came in my pants. And just like that, it was over.

My hormones simmered down, and I came back to my senses. I pulled away, stood up, and told her I had to use the bathroom first.

“It’s across the hall,” she said and pulled off her shirt.

I told her I’d be right back, then took one more look at those breasts before I closed her door. In the hallway, I said to myself, “Joe, what in the hell are you doin’?” Then I ran outta there as fast as I could.

Now, I wasn’t proud o’ what I’d done. Even lost a bit o’ respect for myself. But like all things, time passed and I eventually forgave myself. Even made a promise to never do it again.

Then my phone beeped and someone else liked my profile…

About the author

Jonathan Austen

Hello, and welcome to my creative madness. I'm a writer, an IT professional, and adventure seeker. Fueled by my passion for people, places, and new experiences, I pour a lot of my personal life into my characters and stories. 

Here, you'll find short stories and random thoughts for your enjoyment. So, check in regularly and discover something new.

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Jonathan Austen

Hello, and welcome to my creative madness. I'm a writer, an IT professional, and adventure seeker. Fueled by my passion for people, places, and new experiences, I pour a lot of my personal life into my characters and stories. 

Here, you'll find short stories and random thoughts for your enjoyment. So, check in regularly and discover something new.