Would Mr. Doom be the one to send me to a monastery or to continue my dating?

Disclaimer: There will be a bit of mature content in this one. Skip, if you are easily offended.

After the night with Mr. Navy Seal, I was utterly disappointed, and I tried to forget all about it. I had to admit to myself that maybe I wasn’t that liberated a woman as I thought. Maybe I couldn’t just do this casual dating thing, and besides … if the sex to get in the dating-world was either bad or mediocre … then just forget about it.

I would have more fun with needle pointing or clipping my toenails. At least I would be less wet than my last experience.

Doom was different than both Mr. Redhaired stud and Mr. Navy Seal. He was sweet and charming and VERY easy going. No drama, but also no cheekiness, which maybe held me a bit back. I had been writing with him for a while and wasn’t all that sure that he was anything for me, but I really had to either get up on the horse or abandon the game for good.

And I didn’t want to give up either. It couldn’t be right that there only was bad sex out there. There HAD to be somebody who could teach me how to have fun and fantastic sex.

By the way, I call him Doom because he was really into Doom Metal music. I am more of a rock/metal core/symphonic metal type of g’al, but we found loads of music which we both liked.

So, I agreed with a date with him just a week after the carwash incident.

I went into the date with not much expectation. He wasn’t exactly my type, but sometimes one must be open for unexpected things. We met up for a walk (this was during Corona, so there wasn’t much else to do), and I also wanted to have an easy way out, if it became a disaster.

The first I noticed was that he was tall. I mean REALLY tall. I am 1,73 m (5,6) and he was about 2 m (6,7). I was already discussing inwardly how on earth I was going to fulfill the promise I had made to myself with a kiss before everything went forward. I was not going to be surprised by a slobbering Labrador again and if I wanted my molars checked I could go to the dentist, not to some strange man.

Doom and I actually had a real fun conversation about disastrous first dates (something I haven’t yet covered, but will), and he told me about his absolutely worst date, where the woman he went to a restaurant with, actually fell asleep in the middle of dinner. She said something about medication, but that was a bit hard on his self-esteem. I still find it funny though. Imagine sitting there and then your date just falls asleep?! I know I have been on my share on bad first dates, but I never experienced that. :-)

Anyway … He was very pleasant and easy going. Or … I was not quite sure if he was easy going or maybe also a bit slow on the uptake. Not the cheeky type, which I normally prefer and totally get charmed by, but calm, sweet and different. And … when our walk ended, I stepped up on a small hill and asked him to kiss me.

The attentive reader will notice that slowly but steady my courage was evolving. I wanted to kiss him, so I did. ;-) I am a woman, hear me roar and all that. If I want a man, I goddamn take him (or something like that ;-))

And it was a wonderful kiss! Perfectly timed, leaving me wanting more, so naturally I agreed on a second date in his apartment later same week.

But so much for my courage. As I finally sat there on his couch, all my nerves went amok. Why did I do this to myself again? Sitting here with a strange man in a small and somewhat crummy apartment. Thank God, we don’t have many serial killers here in Denmark.

He must have been able to feel my nervousness.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said. I’m not going to do anything bad to you. On the contrary. It will all be good, I promise you.”
“How do you know?” I asked, thinking about Redhair and Navy Seal. If all men had the same standards, I was doomed (pun intended).
“Because I know what I can do.” He smiled. Not in an arrogant or smug way, it was just a confident and knowing smile.
“Okay .. and what is that?” I asked, beginning to relax a bit.
“Let me show you,” he said, took my hand and led me into the bedroom (not that it was necessary. The apartment was so small that If I had stretched out my arm, I would almost have been able to touch the bed)

Hmm … how to describe the following without getting too specific on this nice site … 😉

We stripped and that’s when I got a minor chock … Doom wasn’t only tall, he was … eh … quite big. I mean … REALLY big.

“I am not sure …” I began …
“Don’t think about it,” he said, but how could I not? There was this huge foreign object in the bed with us, how would I be able to overcome that thing without an embarrassing moment at the emergency room?

How would I explain this?
“Yes, you see, nurse. He was way above average, and I am an old, fragile woman in the midst of her menopause, and not at all ready for that kind of objects.”

He took his time, kissed me all over, caressed me and used his tongue and fingers all the right places. I didn’t freeze up like when I was teenager, but I was on guard. He was a stranger. I didn’t know his moves and that thing …

“Relax,” he whispered and just kept caressing me and saying sweet things to me, and gradually I relaxed a bit. We fooled around with hands, fingers and mouths for a long time. Him on me, I on him and back again, and what intrigued me most was that he didn’t use the standard formular for sex, which I always have taken as gospel. And thought that was how sex should be.

You know, foreplay, female orgasm, penetration, male orgasm and done.

(Yeah, I know, for a middle-aged woman I was rather naive, but my “body count” when I was 46 was only 2. The rapist and my ex-husband, so how should I have known?)

This was sooo different. Doom was the most fantastic lover. Sweet, gentle, hot, sexy and he made me come several times. Not the “big one”, only small ones, but there were loads of them.

I had never tried anything like that. It was a total eyeopener.

And regarding the “foreign object” which joined us in bed … it wasn’t that bad, even though there were … eh … certain positions, where size DID matter.

Needless to say … I wanted to see Doom again. And we did, but only two more times.

He taught me a significant thing at our 4th and last date, but it had to come to an end after that evening.

Thumbnail: Geralt - Pixabay