Brazillian Bombshell

Let me start by apologizing for how long it’s been since I posted 😦 I started writing this post shortly after my encounter with the gentlemen below, then things took a turn to the left. Then Bill was in town this week and monopolized all my time, the day he left I slept for 12 hours straight. I have so much to tell you all! It’s hard to know what to write about first: the Irishman, the Brazillian, the many escapades Bill and I got into this week, more of my history with Bill or who I might be meeting up with tomorrow night (really goes against type). Maybe the fact that I spent all of the morning Bill left crying in the bed we had shared (yes your girl is an emotional tinderbox).

I think I’ll start us off in Brazil since it ended so dismally. I matched with a man on Tinder named Eduardo who was tall, dark, handsome, incredibly successful in his field and socially active. Check, check, check, check, check. Just stop! He seemed too good on paper, and being in his late 30’s I knew that all this combined meant he had the potential to be my kryptonite.

Given the precarious nature of my relationship and situation with Bill, I haven’t just been sleeping with people outside our relationship, which is what we agreed to, but seeing if there is someone out there who I could have a more viable future. Surely there must be some other man who gives me just as many feelings, sexually and emotionally.

In walks Eduardo. We planned to meet at a bar downtown that was too crowded. I got there first and texted him that there were no open seats, so we meet in front of the bar. He kissed me on both cheeks, he was tall, slender but muscular, with dark brown hair and eyes. At first, I couldn’t place his accent; it was only part way through our date that I learned he was from Brazil.

It was a Friday night, and we were in the busy part of downtown, we walked down the crowded street toward a restaurant that my friend bartends. Whenever I’m in doubt about a guy, or I want to know if they have any viability I take them to my friend Emma’s bar. Eduardo told me pretty early on that I was his first Tinder date, an immediate red flag. He wouldn’t tell me the reason why, but that had me thinking that he was newly divorced or out of a long-term relationship. Given what a catch he was I assumed the former.

It was dusk, and as it’s summer I had my sunglasses on, after walking two or three blocks, he stopped walking for a moment and just looked at me pensively.

“What is it?” I asked, somewhat perplexed and nervous. Maybe he had changed his mind about this whole Tinder dating thing in our 5 minutes of pleasant chit-chat.

“I’m just wondering what your eyes look like under those big, red glasses. They looked so stunning in all of your pictures online.” He gave me a last penetrating stare, as if he might see through my sunglasses, then turned and kept walking down the street.

“Well a part of me would like to take them off right now,” I said with a quick smile catching up to him. “But the other part of me is determined to keep you in suspense.” While saying all this, I had moved my hand toward my sunglasses as if to take them off, and finishing my statement put them back down at my sides with a grin.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait then,” he said and kept walking down the street.

Once we arrived at Emma’s bar, we sat down, order our drinks and just started talking. The first half of the date was a delight, and he was so charming and smart, we had plenty of interests in common. I could have sat there all night listening to that voice, intelligently discuss a wide range of topics. He was too clever, too kind, too handsome, too everything. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop the whole night.

Halfway through the date, things took my favorite kind of turn, the type of turn Emma sees 80% of my dates take at her bar. Eduardo leaned in toward me, took my hand in his and began stroking my palm.

“I like this dress. I’m also very interested in the red I can see peaking beneath” with that I looked down and remembered the red bra I had purposefully warn underneath my baby blue lace dress.

“Do you now?” I said with a glance back up at him. I had this strong urge to run my fingers through his hair but fought it. I was playing this one close to the chest to see if it had any long-term potential. I needed him to be the aggressor.

“I do, very much,” he said looking down at my chest and taking his other hand and placing it on my knee, stroking it slowly. “It’s made me wonder several things.”

“Whatever would those be,” I said as coyly as I could, but the anticipation was mounting. This man was playing me like a fiddle. He leaned in very close. Close enough where you can still look someone in the eye, but you don’t feel cross-eyed.

“I’ve been wondering if your lips are as soft as I’ve imagined them to be since we sat down.” He took a hand away from my lap and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. I’m sure my lips were parted at that point. I did all I could to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor. Wherever do I find these men who not only come up with these lines but deliver them flawlessly? He looked into my eyes for what was only a few seconds, but what felt like a minute.

“Hmm, I’m still not sure,” and then he leaned the rest of the way in and kissed me. It was relentless. Slow at first, like an exploration of my lips. Then he delved in pulling my head toward his, kissing me more passionately. I heard myself moan in pleasure at that point and he gently bit my lower lip in excitement.

The rest of our evening progressed at Emma’s bar in the same fashion. Lovely banter back and forth, followed by more kissing. It’s probably one of my favorite patterns for a date, at least one I’d engage in public. He and I both went to the bathroom before leaving, and I was checking my phone and had some text from Emma, whose shift had just ended 15 minutes before we left.

This is the best one you’ve brought in here so far. Get it mama!

I’m not going to sleep with him, for once, he seems like a potential keeper.

Yes make him wait

Next thing I know Eduardo and I were walking back down a beautiful treelined and mostly deserted street. Stopping every half block to make out, sometimes with me pressed up against a fence or lamp post, his hands grabbing at my waist pulling me as close as possible.

It was also along this walk that the other shoe dropped, and I figured out what was wrong with him. He is in the process of getting a divorce (you should begin to notice a pattern) and even though he lives separately from his wife and the papers are filed he is not 100% free. He revealed that he had dated one girl since starting his divorce, and called her his ‘ex-girlfriend,’ which indicated to me that this must have been a relationship that went on for some time. So not only is he not completely divorced he’s already had another complicated relationship in the interim.

I can’t tell you how disappointed I was. I started off the night thinking that this man had long-term, serious dating potential and this information made all that more or less evaporate. In my mind though, if I had any chance of being taken seriously and not just as a girl you fucked from Tinder, I could not sleep with him on this first date.

“Would you like to go back to your place?” he asked after one very long and sensuous kiss, with his body still pressed against mine and his lips next to my ear.

A note to anyone who reads this and happens to know me in real life, if you put your lips near my ears or neck, I will be putty in your hands. Every girl has their weak spot, and this happens to be mine. Of course, there are other, more inappropriate ones, but nothing gets me as quickly and efficiently as the ears and neck.

I pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. Of course, I wanted him to come home with me. I’d wanted this man naked, and in bed five minutes after meeting him, I was still determined to show some self-control.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not tonight.” I said with as much resolve as I could muster.

“Why not tonight?” he asked pulling me in even closer and kissing me, then trailing his lips slowly down my neck and along my collarbone, his hands grabbing my ass and pressing me firmly against him.

“Well…” I started to choke out as his mouth moved along my collarbone and up the other side of my neck. Damn my neck, was all I could think.

“I sort of lose interest in anyone I sleep with right away. So if you wanted tonight never to happen again, I’d be happy to take you back to my place.” I finished as strongly as I could.

My statement wasn’t a lie and something I had told my ex, who is French, on our first date. The Frenchman quickly replied that he did want to see me again and that I shouldn’t go home with him. I could see the resolve of the Brazillian was very different.

“You are that evil,” he said after kissing me again. He grabbed my hand and started to walk down the street.

“Evil has nothing to do with it. It’s just in my nature, I lose interest very easily in men, the same way most men lose interest in women very easily. So if there is some delayed gratification…” with that, I stopped, grabbed him by the belt buckle and pulled him near me. He loomed over me, as I’m only 5’2 and he had to be at least 6 feet tall, his face was high above mine.

“…I’m more likely to stay interested in a man and keep coming back for more.”

“I see, well how about I drive you home. I don’t have to come in, but it’s late, and I don’t want you on the subway alone.” Since he is a father of 3 children, I didn’t think it was worth arguing with him over this statement. I’m a feminist, and an activist, but did I want to spend 35 mins on the train and walk the 15 minutes home? No, sir, I did not.

“Just as long as you know that women can ride the subway alone after dark, I’ll allow it,” I said smiling. He needed to be put in his place just a little without me losing my free, sexy uber.

“Good, because I just want an excuse to look at your for another few minutes.” A note to all women, everywhere, reading this. 95% of men who feed you a line like that have said it to dozens of women before. 85% of them don’t mean it; they know it makes you swoon a little and weak in the knees, and fuck all if it didn’t make me swoon a little and weak in the knees. Well, it could also have been the drinks at Emma’s bar.

We got in his car, and one of the first things that came on whatever he was playing was “Shiny” from Moana. He was singing along to it in the most adorable way. He said his kids made him love Disney, and since he had also studied classical piano, he had an appreciation for all kinds of music. I love Disney movies; I love musicals and classical music. I’ve also realized since being with Bill that dads are very sexy, they have the potential to be amazing in bed and so incredibly sweet and genuine when they talk about their children. My advice to you is if you haven’t fucked a dad, you should. Just make sure it’s a hot one that’s a little freaky.

We were at my apartment in under 15 minutes. Eduardo parked around the back of my building and turned the car off. In one swift movement, he leaned over placed one hand on my knee then moved it under my dress and the other around the back of my neck and pulled me in for a deep kiss. Tongues swirled and lips nipped at each other. I moaned into his mouth when his hand was all the way up my thigh, and he had bitten particularly hard on my lip.

He took his hand off the back of my head and moved it to my skirt, which was very rigid with lace and annoyed him. He maneuvered it up to my hips and started to finger me through my panties. His mouth returned to my neck, licking and sucking eliciting even louder moans from me as his hands continued their ministrations. My hands were buried in his hair, which I had been itching to touch all night, it (like him) did not disappoint.

Out of nowhere, he started pulling down my panties, and I lifted my hips to assist, without even thinking. Once they were around my ankles I did begin to think: is he going to try and have sex with me in this car and will I be resilient enough to say no? I thought this all while he kissed me and fingered me, these thoughts quickly receding and focused on what his hands and mouth were doing that was making me cry out in pleasure.

After what I imagine was four or five minutes, but in my warped sex brain felt like 10 or 15, his mouth pulled away from mine as did his hand from between my legs. For a few seconds, I thought “Ok this is where the night ends, you go inside, and we’ve all had some fun.” Boy, was I wrong!

He leaned forward in his seat and started to move toward me; I honestly thought he was going to open the car door and say “hope you have fun, all alone.” Instead, his hands spread my legs apart and his head dove between my legs! My breath hitched, half in shock and half in pleasure. It must have been a pretty uncomfortable angle for him, but you’d have never known it.

His tongue ran up and down the length of me at first, then small and slow circles along my clit. My moaning grew even louder. After just a few minutes of this, he started fingering me again while continuing to lick my clit. At that point, my hips were bucking, and my moans had turned into something between a growl and cries of ecstasy. My orgasm washed over me before I even felt it coming. He continued to lick my clit as I came, the sign of a man who truly knows what he is doing.

He sat up, and I took a minute to catch my breath (I tend to do this panting thing that makes it sound like I’ve run a marathon after I’ve orgasmed or when someone can’t catch their breath crying). I leaned over toward him put my hand on his upper thigh and started kissing him. As I began to move my hand toward his cock, I felt his hand move on top of mine and pull it way.

“No, that’s all for you tonight,” he said when I had pulled away to give him a confused stare. I growled in frustration.

“Very well, I suppose,” I said resigned, finding my panties and putting them back on as gracefully as I could in a car.

We said our goodbyes and I went inside. I sent Eduardo a picture of what I looked like in the red bra he had been admiring so much, and we texted back and forth a little before saying goodnight.

Since this, all happened before the 4th of July holiday, and I knew I’d be out of town, I waited until over a week after our first date and after the holiday to text him. He very promptly let me know that he had gotten back with his ex-girlfriend since seeing me, how bloody convenient. It’s pretty sad, but my first thought is that I regretted not sleeping with him. If everything else we did was any indication, the sex could have been pretty phenomenal!

I should have been more upset that someone so perfect just slipped through my fingers, but he wasn’t perfect. Once again, I’m incapable of getting a lady boner for someone who doesn’t have a ring on their finger. Is there some therapy that fixes that? Maybe something a little less violent, like a podcast or book I could read. Even better, send me a sexy, smart, accomplished man who is good in bed and isn’t married. Surely there is at least one of those in a 30-mile radius of where I stand?

Just a heads up this will be my tamest post for a while, everything else that has happened to me of late has been incredibly raunchy. I thought we’d start with the most PG of all the stories. Yes, kids, this is PG for me!

Up to No Good 😉

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