It was our first proper date. Dinner and a movie. 

With anyone else, or even alone, these things are mundane, everyday. He held my hand all through the film, his fingers twisted with mine. He threw an arm around my shoulder to guide me as we left. I’d even worn new shoes which pinched and gave me blisters, and the skin between my legs was sore from wearing suspenders, the bare skin there rubbing. 

Back at mine, all he was interested in was smoking a joint again. I had no choice really but to join him. The weed made me horny, I just wanted to be in bed running my hands over his tight body. I wanted his cock inside me so much I ached. He hadn’t even kissed me.

Much later, we finally went up to bed. I ripped off the special underwear and got into bed while he washed. I lay there burning, angry. Why didn’t he want me? 

He climbed in beside me and I snuggled into him. His eyes were closed and I kissed him. His lips hardly moved. Maybe he was stoned? I traced down his chest and moved down his body. 

I gripped his hips and started sucking his dick. Nothing. I slurped and sucked and nothing happened. I couldn’t believe it. I gave up and took up position on my own pillow, lying on my front and frustrated as hell. 

His hand reached around my back and we both fell asleep.