If Tinder Profiles Were More Than 500 Characters: Pt. 2

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Part 1

-I don’t want you to come straight over to my apartment to watch Netflix

-I don’t want to send you $5 on Venmo for naked Snapchat pictures

-I want to meet at a coffee shop or bar

-I want you to get upset at me for being late because I thought we were meeting at a different spot down the street

-I want to hear about your day over glasses clinking and the faint murmur of 90’s alternative music

-I want to interrupt with various jokes that show off your perfect snorty laugh

-I want to hear about your superstition with ghosts and how you once saw a figure in black when you worked at the Old Adolphus Hotel

-I want to whisk you out of the bar and wonder around the city looking for other haunted buildings

-As we walk, I want to tell you how much I love to write, despite the amount of times I’ve been told my writing sucks

-I want to hear the passion that gets your blood pumping

-I want to finally find a dark building and make up a story why one light is still on

-I want to get so lost in our conversation I miss the last train home

-I don’t want to get super “handsy” when we stand behind your car, just bask in the tension of our eyes lingering during a pregnant pause

-I want you to say awkward things because your happily uncomfortable in the moment

-I want to interrupt by pulling you in for a kiss and breaking it off before you reach to bite my lower lip

-I want to say good night and walk an hour back home, past our haunted building, thinking about how excited I am to see you again

If you can’t handle any of that please swipe left

 

The Difference Between Men and Women

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Men’s Fantasy: I want you to wear a tight dress and heels, so everyone will be jealous of me at the club.

Women’s Fantasy: I want you to eye me from across the room on your first day at work and flash your pretty white teeth. I want you to go back to talking with your new co-workers and continue to get acclimated with the new computer system. Hours later, during the boring 2:30 period, I’ll be making copies in the tiny supply room. I want you to walk in and slam the always open wooden door behind you. I want your blue eyes to be locked on mine and your mouth to never move. I want to awkwardly introduce myself, to which you ignore, and come at me without hesitation like a tidal wave. I want you to start kissing my neck, lift me up, hike up my skirt, and slam my ass against the cold metallic folding table. I want you to undo your belt and slam your hard member into me. Half way through, I want you to bend me over the copy machine, so I can feel the bright light burn my eyes as copies of my face as shoot out during the climax. Then I want you to put your pants back on and walk out back to your desk, like nothing ever happened.

Men’s: I want to hit it doggy, and smack your ass while you yell “Ay Papi!”

Women’s: I want you to dress up in a ski mask and attack me from behind as I enter my apartment late from my workout one Tuesday. I want to drop my gym bag midway at the door and you to cover my mouth as I use my remaining breath to scream for help. I want my left hand to club you across the head with my Louis Vuitton and rush frantically into my bedroom searching for something to defend myself with. I want you to stick your foot between the door as I try to slam it and overpower me with your tight muscular arms that bulge out of the black UnderArmor shirt. I want you to slam me down over the dresser, tear the middle of my yoga pants, and ravage me as I scream for bloody murder. I want to continue to fight back at first but give in toward the end when I’m close. I want my body to shake with delight and have wet fluid monsoon down on your hard cock. After you cum, I want you to help me pick up the rest of ransacked apartment and ask me about my day at work.

Men’s: I want to fuck you hard and finish with a load in your face.

Women’s: I want to walk into your corner office that says CEO on the door. I want to live in the sexual tension between the two of us, while your sitting in the giant red chair with brass buttons. I want you to drool at the sight of my tight grey pencil skirt as I run my hands across the stained oak desk on my way over to you. I want to take a deep breath and ask for your signature, emphasizing the word “Boss”. I want to knock down the papers on the desk and gulp as I slowly bend down to get them. I want to see your Italian suit pants try its best to contain your hard dick. I want to slowly unzip your pants and force take the entire thing in my wet mouth. I want to you say softly “Not here” but not do anything to stop it. I want to not stop the forceful suction when I feel my hair brush up against the oak due to the incoming footsteps. I want to hear you struggle to contain your load when the most powerful man in the building tries to take care of an invoice issue with Jim from the Accounting department. I want to feel the warm spunk hit the back of my throat, just as I hear Jim’s shoes walk in the opposite direction. I want to wipe my mouth, pick up the rest of my papers, and walk back to my desk.

Men’s: I want to stick it in your butt.

Women’s: I want to wake up completely strapped down to a retractable chair with my feet in stirrups in an unfamiliar room. I want a single blinding light on my face. The only thing I want to wear is a medical gown and I want to barely make out the glimmer from the various shiny instruments on the table to my left. I want my tits to feel sore from struggling to free myself from the rope around them. I want you to enter with a white coat and your eyes studying my figure up and down. I want to yell out questions that go unanswered like “Who are you?” and “Why are you doing this?”. I want to hear the clink of grabbing an instrument of the tiny steel table. I want you to start the buzzing of the vibrating instrument and duck under my gown. I want to feel the rubber end of the instrument creep up around my thighs and eventually up to my clit. I want to squirm back and forth and try to fight the tingling feeling within my toes. I want to have sweat pour down my face as I quiver uncontrollably. I want to scream out as I lose the battle and release a steady stream of hot liquid. After, I want you to stand up and set the instrument back on the small tray. Then I want to see you write something on a clipboard and leave the room, while I pant fearlessly, trying to catch my breath.

 

-This post is dedicated to my home girl at but she was fierce. She’s a amazing writer, especially when it comes to erotica, and after reading some of her work I wanted to try it out myself. Turns out, women’s sexual fantasies are way more fun to write about than guys. Who knew?

Ps – For the record these would all be consensual acts #Don’tsueI’mpoor

 

The Application

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I’m currently accepting applications for someone who loses track of time when joking around with me. Someone who shows up at the bar when I’m two Moscow Mules deep and instantly tells me about her day. Someone who mentions that she had good intentions of heading to the gym to work out today but instead just showered. Someone who laughs when I joke and mimic that she just washed her thick Italian hair over and over for two hours, almost making her late for work. Someone who takes the joke further by saying it’s all baby steps towards getting healthy and next week she’ll actually get a drink at the gym water fountain before heading to the showers. Someone who laughs so hard she snorts unexpectedly making me laugh harder.

I’m currently accepting applications for someone who storms off after an argument about me flirting with another girl. Someone who gets so frustrated, she moves in with her friend, Sasha. Someone who sips wine and makes jokes all night about how small my dick is. About how they never really liked me anyways. And about how she ‘settled’ for me because her ex moved away and she regrets not going with him. Someone who finally takes Sasha’s advice and heads out to the club wearing her favorite Orange dress that somehow fits. Someone who meets a charming guy that’s tall, witty, and successful. They connect on a deep level and he takes her to his place. Someone who texts me out of spite saying “I’ve already replaced your loser ass!” at 2:23am. Someone who fucks this guy and is still satisfied in the morning. Someone who gets a ride back to Sasha’s and hears Amy Winehouse sing over the E-class Bose speakers, reminding her of how I learned “Valerie” on my guitar when her mother passed away.  Someone who tells the guy they had a nice time. Someone who half way to the door breaks down crying on the street, and texts me, “I’m sorry”.

I’m currently accepting applications for someone who doesn’t want kids. Someone that understands that even though both of us would be awesome parents, it’s just not in the cards for me because I have too many dreams to chase. Someone who gets pissed at me for throwing every dollar towards a goal. Someone who throws a vase at my head when the financial shit hits the fan. Someone who screams every night at me when we sleep out of our two door Honda Civic dx parked behind Walmart and takes turns sleeping and watching out for employees trying to kick us out. Someone who dances with me in the heat in our new apartment when my hard work starts paying off. And a year later sips champagne with me at a fancy party, wearing a stunning red dress, and joins me in telling everyone “remember when” stories.

I’m currently accepting applications for someone who enjoys the spontaneousness of attraction. Someone who doesn’t mind shopping for paint at home depot and catching a gleam in my eye when I joke about the color ‘passion fruit red’. Someone who takes my hand and sneaks in the back by the patio furniture. Someone who tries her damnedest to hold back her moans as I jam my throbbing member in her at a repetitive rate. Someone who breaths extremely heavy at sound of incoming footsteps and kicks out during the climax, knocking over several boxes. Someone who laughs as she puts herself back together because I’m tell the worker about how it’s impossible to find the right outdoor plastic table due to the disorganization of this store.

But I’ll be honest, I’ve been accepting applications for a while now, and not many make it past the grueling the interview process.