Mediocrity

What can be said of a fuck that is so dull as to be non-existent. As if it didn't happen. Except, it did happen and I came away feeling my needs not met AND wanting even more than I started.

The not-so-long, somewhat-sordid, no-cliff-hanger story, is this. Yesterday afternoon I got home from visiting some family after having found out the friend who is to visit me this weekend said she's now coming the next day instead (she still has not arrived, by the way, but that's another story in frustration left to the realm of putting-up-with-your-best-friends-foibles). So, I thought to myself, "I am very horny with nothing to do. Maybe I can find someone to fuck me." So, I put an ad on craigslist that said the following (if, by some stretch you actually recognize this ad, then I guess all I can say is boo! you found me).

Idle Hands - Don't they say idle hands do the devils work? So be it. I'm horny and picky and free tonight. My weekend company delayed their arrival till tomorrow, so I find myself with idle hands.

You're between 35 and 45, handsome, tall and fit (fit enough is good too, I'm not a complete perfectionist - as I'm not perfect, either) confident, unattached (or unattached enough so that you're not looking over your shoulder), and lean towards dominance.

I'm in my 40's, attractive and fit (again, fit enough). I'm more submissive and prefer to be with someone who can take the lead. I also have a preference for younger men, as I'm youthful myself.

I'm intelligent, thoughtful and articulate. We don't have to debate world affairs or the global economy, but it would be nice if we could communicate on a fairly equal level. I find that helps in all arenas.

You have a place we can meet as my place is ready for company and I'm not messing with that. You're willing to talk on the phone for a bit (about what we plan to do - if we can't discuss it in graphic detail on the phone, it's a lost cause)and then meet for a drink to make sure it's a fit. You won't be pissy if I find it's not, as I won't be if you don't.

You must send a photo and it has to be recent. If you send me something from 10 years ago and then we meet and you clearly don't look like that, expect me, and I mean it, to get up and walk out. I may be submissive, but I'm picky as hell. If you're not confident about the way you look, you should work on that. Not on me.

Okay, now you're thinking, "Man, this gals a bitch." Let's just say I've done this on-line thing off and on for the past however long and I know the pitfalls.

If you're for real and have taken the time to read my post and think you and I are a fit, then I hope to hear from you.


I got numerous responses, not all of them ridiculous. In fact, many quite thoughtful from clearly intelligent men who were interested in having some fun with an equally intelligent and terminally horny woman. I started conversation with one man who turned out to be 25. I said, you're lovely, but no thank you. A few sent photos that didn't interest me and others sent responses that showed they hadn't really read my ad beyond the first line.

And then I got one from a 38 year old man who had clearly read my ad. He was the only one, the ONLY ONE!, out of, at this point, about 25 responses, who even mentioned that he was dominant. The others seem to have overlooked that in their quest for "hot sex". So, we e-mailed a bit about sex and the vagaries of on-line hooking up, spoke on the phone briefly and decided to at least get together for a drink and see where it went. I figured at the least, I'll have had something to do other than clean out my closets (that was Plan B).

So, Steve (I'll call him Steve) and I met for a drink. Ended up having 2 and a snack (I hadn't had dinner) and then went back to his place. So far, not bad. He wasn't my prince charming, but we communicated well and I thought we could have some fun. What I didn't know (this is like the part where the audience has more information than the contestants) was that prior to our meeting up, he had already had a few beers. Then he had 2 when we were together. The man did not seem drunk in any way.

At his place (which smelled of smoke - I smoke, but not inside and can't stand it) we chatted on the couch for a while. Then he kissed me and we started in on the main event. His kisses were fine, nothing earth shattering, but not like water-works either. His hands groped me nicely, with confidence and conviction and a goal in mind. He reached his goal quickly and, having negotiated my skirt easily, slipped a finger, then two, underneath my panties to find my very definitely wet cunt. Wet, and at that point, a little greedy. I pushed up to meet those fingers and he slipped inside. I love that rush. That first feeling of fullness and pressure. I breathed a sigh of relief and pleasure. He fingered me a bit and then, clearly not able to contain himself, got on his knees on the floor before me, pulled my panties aside, and replaced his fingers with his tongue. Quite honestly, this was when I started to wonder what was happening.

His approach, and I don't mean just getting on his knees to lick me, was not that of a dominant. But, even though a little wave of disappointment went through me, I thought, well at least I'll get fucked. He licked me for some time and his technique was decent. A little sloppy and not very focused, but okay. After a bit he lifted himself off the floor and came back beside me on the couch and we kissed some more and I reached for his pants to undo them. Honestly, at this point, I could have cared less about what I might find there, but it was the obligatory next move, so I made it.

Having wrested his cock from his pants, my disappointment took a turn for the confirmed when I found him to be soft. Soft, soft, not semi-hard soft. Okay, I thought, well maybe he isn't that fond of cunnilingus, and his enthusiasm a moment before was a fiction.

"Make me hard, baby." Right. So, I dug in with my hand, then my mouth and succeeded in making him hard. "Oh, I want to fuck you." Okay, well let's give it a go, I thought. I got up to go to my bag and grab a condom, and remove my skirt and panties and, dear sympathetic reader, by the time I returned the 5 feet back to the couch, he was again soft.

What? He groaned with frustration as I put on my smilie face and began, again, to work my magic. Succeeded well enough, put on the condom and by the time he was at the entrance to my cunt, he was soft again. This was becoming, well, annoying. And I now was not wet. Wet for what?

We moved to the bedroom (smokey and not so great, but at least he had a 1 bedroom). I didn't think it mattered at this point, but he apparently thought it would help. I won't walk you through the repetition of the above. I'll cut to the chase - eventually, he was hard enough to enter me, and fuck me, and come. End of story. No, really, end of story. I, of course, did not come. How on earth could I have? He did pull my hair a bit and slapped my bottom a couple of times during his aerobic effort. Which I suppose is what kept me from drying up completely.

I left not long after and took the subway home. I almost took a cab, but realized, even at 3:00 in the morning, I wanted to sit on the train. Maybe it was my penance. And, spending money on a cab would have felt like I had just paid for something and gotten ripped off. I looked at some of the other single women on the train and wondered if we could start a support group for the unsuccessfully fucked.

There is no moral to this story, I think. I want there to be, though. I want to think I've learned something through this. But, really, all I can conjure is the image of myself shaking a finger at myself and saying, "I told you so." This wasn't a bad, yucky experience. It was simply dissatisfying and, luckily, I can see the humor in it.

I guess if I were to come away with some nugget of truth or some warning for the future it would be this - sometimes, nothing really is better than something.