What Hole Do You Want First

~Part 1~


Talking to you every day became a ritual that I looked forward to. You would call or send me a text, just shooting the breeze, which always put a smile on my face. The more I talked to you, the more intrigued I became. I didn’t mean to start liking you, it just kind of evolved on its own.

We really only connected because of social media. Funny thing is, I didn’t know who you were and you didn’t know who I was, yet we shared almost thirty friends. Even funnier was that we both worked for the same agency, though not the same department. I had asked around about you, and come to find out, you did the same. I laugh at that now. I only had a simple question that I posted, yet, it drew your attention and you responded. I read that response on my page and decided I wanted to know more about the man in the tailor-made suit. So, I messaged you privately and it went from there.

Due to your age, you thought you had me all figured out. You were, after all, eighteen years older than me. You thought your experience meant that you knew women like me, that we were all the same. And again, thinking back, I still laugh. You talked to me as if I were innocent, inexperienced and mild-mannered. You let the pearls and soft spoken voice fool you. You taught me a lot about the world, about men. Every conversation opened my eyes a little more.

I flirted with you, in my own unique way. You flirted back, in a way I really didn’t understand. I had mentioned the idea of hooking up, which you smacked down right away, citing ludicrous reasons, in my opinion.

That all changed when you opened up to me, giving me some insight into your “private, adult” life. I wanted more. We talked very little about our private lives. I knew you had a son and a younger daughter who stayed with you half the time, following your divorce. I tried everything I could to just be upfront with you, and yet, you wouldn’t take the bait. The more you resisted, the more I wanted you. I wanted you so bad, I would play with my pussy and think about you. I would wear certain things, posting a picture, just to get your attention. You would comment, but you never took the bait. Oh, how I wanted you to take the fucking bait. I needed you to take the bait. So I realized I would have to push….. Just a little harder. So a plan was hatched.

I told you I was going out of town, to Savannah. I explained that I was going to see an old girlfriend and spend some time on the beach. You and I talked about the city and traded beach stories. The truth was, I was home. Living almost an hour away from you, I needed a good excuse to be in that area. You bought it. You wished me well on my trip and I promised to call you on my way back. I laugh now thinking about how I packed an overnight bag, just in case, my plan worked.

That Saturday came and I sent you a message, telling you I was on my way home. You initially didn’t respond, but then wished me a safe journey and told me to call you if I got bored. Little did you know, the whole time, I was home. I had spent the day doing my hair and getting the cutest bra and panty set I could find. I knew how much you loved red, so I settled for a lace bra and G-string set. Go big, or go home, right? I packed my bag, threw some clothes in there so that my scheme was even more believable.

I drove down by where you lived. I spent some time at the mall, picking up a few items before I got in my car and called you. It was nighttime and getting pretty late. I was almost afraid you were asleep already, but to my luck, you answered. I sounded as if I had been crying. You asked what was wrong. I explained that I had a flat tire and was at the Walmart parking lot. I told you that their tire shop was closed, and I would have to wait until they opened, at 7am the next morning. You asked me what happened. I explained that as I was coming back from Savannah, I stopped by the mall and as I was leaving, I ran over a nail. I cleared my throat and blew my nose. You were genuinely worried. I told you I was scared, I was out there by myself, far away from home and I was stuck. Being the gentleman that I knew you were, you asked which Walmart was I at. I told you the one in McDonough. You sounded surprised, reminding me what I already knew, it was five minutes from your house.

I answered your question about calling a tow truck. I explained to you that the tire shop opens at 7, and I am already in the parking lot. Why spend the money for a tow truck? You agreed. You asked if I had a spare, and you would come change it. I told you I never got another spare after it blew a few months back. You asked if any family could come, and I reminded you that I am over an hour from home, nearly two hours from family. You jokingly told me I was “shit out of luck”. I didn’t laugh, which made you feel bad. You seemed to ponder an idea. I made a comment about not having a blanket or pillow, after all, it was chilly outside. Unusual for April in Georgia.

Just as I was about to give up on my plan, you offered to come get me and let me spend the night. You couldn’t see or hear it in my voice, but I was smiling wide. You asked me where in the parking lot was I located and I told you the back, by the tire shop. You told me you were throwing some pants on and would be there in about five to ten minutes. I said thank you and assured you, I would wait outside my car for you. We hung up.

To make things more believable. I had already let enough air out of my tire to look flat, but not too flat that I couldn’t make it to the gas station and fill it up. I could only hope you didn’t ask to see the nail.

Seven minutes later, you arrived. I could hear your truck before I actually saw it.