As Scruffy Beard began unhooking my bra, a panic signal went off in my head. Uh oh, Dater X, I thought to myself. This is your third date and you are straddling him in a chair. Your shirt is across the room, and you can feel his hard-on through his pants. You are on a steam locomotive powering towards sex town. This. Is. Not. Good.
I pulled back, feeling suddenly shy about the fact that I was topless. I looked him in the eyes—definitely his nicest feature, though I’d come to appreciate the rest of his face in the two weeks we’d been dating, too. His gaze seemed filled with adoration and desire, and he leaned forward and kissed me, soft and slow. I felt his hands squeeze around my butt. And that was it. Soon the rest of our clothes hit the floor, our makeout session getting more intense with every kiss and touch. Keep reading »