It is Friday night and I’ve had some quite unexpected life changing news. I am still flatsitting, I have cried, like really ugly cried, wailed down the phone to a few people and am pacing about.

This morning, my date for tonight bailed. I had not really thought about replacing my plans or the inevitable dick and realise I need to celebrate somehow, and what better way than to take myself out for dinner to the neighbourhood place I haven’t revisited since the first time.

As I’m in this tailspin, he messages. I haven’t heard from him in over a week, so yes I have deleted his number and all the messages. Its not a “hey you up” as its around 5.30pm. I continue my plan and head out for dinner.

The messaging during it is annoying, but the signal is also terrible. he tells me “I can’t have you round here”. which tells me he’s not single, what else could it be.

He suggests he comes here, I say no. We arrange to meet outside the station, I’ve not rushed my dinner but I do have time to get back, quickly reapply lipstick, a thong and buy a vape.

He tells me where to meet him by a bridge, and I’m dancing around half freaked out, pacing, vaping, taking in the scene. I’m not excited, I’m not anything really. I see him before he sees me which is perfect.

In the halflight of the street lamp he looks like he aged 10 years in 4. His hair is shorter and greyer than I remember, his face looks sad and tired. But this is what I wanted isn’t it?

He leads me along the canals and lakes, its quite a fun walk which I’ve never done before. He tells me he used to run this way in lockdown, but doesn’t anymore. I stop myself from saying I can tell.

We weave along the river path, the city looks beautiful, party boats float down the river and someone is singing “Rhythm of the Night” badly on karaoke with the boat with the most disco lights. I think of “London Falling” by patrick radden which I just devoured and how the city hides and you can hide in it. We haven’t even touched each other yet. He says he knows a park which we can try. We walk further and further into the night, passing a few people, dogwalkers, Limebikers but its relatively quiet. I am not a huge fan of the dark and I stumble a few times on a weird kerb that pops up. The wildlife is incredible: a heron, a cat literally teasing a mouse, lit by a streetlamp, multiple foxes.

I’m intrigued as to what he’s going to do, how does this escalate? we walk for a really long time and I tell him about a similar previous encounter which ended in a whimper. I realise I’m babbling and wonder why. Even now I don’t know why I felt the need to keep talking. He asks me nothing.

He makes for a footpath that leads into a clearing, but finds a guy on the bench he had in mind – I can’t see a thing. A little further along, we find a spot, off the main path. Its dark but I can see his sad, sad face lit by the almost full moon. He doesn’t kiss me, he doesn’t do much, so I reach for his belt and unclip it. rock hard in the warm air. He lifts up my skirt, clutches and clumsily fingers at my pussy and exclaims how wet I am. I didn’t realise.

I sink to my knees and his dick is ready for me, I take him in. I can smell the scent of him, its not the worst but not the best. He tells me to stop after a couple of minutes and says he’ll come. He tries to push into me standing up, but the angle isn’t right. I go a bit further into the darkness, taking my tits out of my bra to feel the night air. He tells me to bend over a tree stump but that won’t work either. At this point he’s lost his erection. He tells me to lie on the floor so I spread out my jacket and bump down. The thong comes off and I throw in his face, he doesn’t even smell it. Damn.

He tries to bend down and enter me, but its awkward. He’s now not hard enough so finally starts kissing me. He’s a really good kisser. His jeans are either too tight or uncomfortable as they come down too. A few thrusts and its over, but I enjoy feeling his girth and the feeling of being used. He calls me his filthy fishnet slut which I enjoy feeling the banality of. The backstory is that he’s shared a lot of porn with me, which admittedly I’ve got off on too.

A few delicious thrusts and he’s come already. The hotness and the speed of this is surprising. He gets up and pulls off the condom, I think he actually says do you want my cum. I’m not sure what he was expecting me to do with it. We both stand up now, as if nothing happened. We find a bin for him to deposit his offering and we walk back on the path. He doesn’t notice but I stand there for a bit, skirt up playing with my clit, enjoying the fresh air. My thighs are slick, my pussy twitching. He shows no sign of wanting to pleasure me, which is fine.

We walk back to a different station and I almost call him by my ex husband’s name. It’s a bit of a blooper. He gives me a weird hug anyway.

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It wasn’t quite a hate fuck, but I realise it’s yet another guy I really fell for who was just a bit dull. Or got even duller. I still twitch when I think of him getting inside me though. I should have sat on him, although I doubt I’d have come that quick anyway.

I’m quite pissed off that the thong was sacrificed to the woods. She had some great times, but maybe it’s time for a new one?