Online Dating

One night I was online and came upon a profile of a man who lived close to me.  It was on a mature site (CM) and I was always pleased with the value of the experiences it offered.

His specs were of someone I would find attractive.  He had sent a picture of himself to me.  Nice dark hair and glasses with a polite look to him.  I felt he was ok to meet.  We met at a nearby establishment and got coffee and talked.  We had a lot of things in common.   In fact, he used to be married and owned a local business with his wife near an old apartment I used to have in the city.  We shared the same block and I had even a few times had talked to him over ten years back.

He had an italian backround.  He even spoke italian.  And since I had lived in Italy while in college studying the language I felt it wonderful to share that with him, amongst other bdsm lifestyle topics.

We had a few dates over the course of a couple weeks since we had hit it off so well.  We hadn't kissed until the third date, but I was very clear that I didnt want to sexual with him until I was sure that I was ready to let myself be intimate in a way that was ok for me.  My mid 30's have been very interesting, in fact so has my whole life.  but this is about this date. 

On out second date, at Dennys... ehhem... He brought his snakes with him.  Yes, his snakes.  He had them in the backseat of his boxy white car in two cages.  He had asked me if I wanted to see his "Balls".  Ball pythons.  ok...  Well, I had owned one, Spot, during the time I had lived on the same block as his business way back in the times before Italy.  I was amused by his humor and his Balls.  He then told me that he bred them in his basement.  Interesting.  He was telling me that it was his second source of cash flow.  He shared how it was as lucrative as drug dealing.  People paid big money for certain snakes and he was happy to fill the need.  Ah the city, you never know.

Third date... We had dinner and then desert in the city, nearby that block where we had first crossed paths back when he was married.  We spent some evening time near a fountain reflecting on common memories of a time in the past.  I felt like I was in my early 20s again hanging out with someone who didn't care about what others thought about him.  To me it was like that early college mentality that seems to get lost as you get older.  That night was magical.  So we kissed.  It was nice.  The evening had no chill in the late summer air.  It was silent out, with a wall at our backs near a fountatin and I was with a pretty sexy guy. 

Well, me being an experimental bottom, He was a Dominant Male.  I was intrigued by his air.  Confident and strong.  He seemed that the could really get to know me.  I was starting to feel an ok feeling.  DON'T go with that feeling until you know the person... its a weird thing that happens when you dont know what else to do.  I can offer a suggestion... WAIT!  Just WAIT... It may just be that weird thing that happens when you dont know what else to think.  So you fill it with this odd response and do something stupid that both clouds your objective view and fills you with this senseless and baseless "feeling" that gets you into trouble. And then you end up using sexuality to fill that waiting time with a false sense of intimacy leading you into an experience with MR SANDHANDS!!

Alas, the fourth date.  Sure you can come over to my place.

He wanted to offer me a massage.  Now I was hestitant since I was getting professional sports massages routinely from a person who really knew my body.  So I was a finely tuned instrument with the idea of a massage by this man I was seemingly attracted to, so I Felt.

I was asked to get a towel and some massage oil.  I brought over this nice massage oil bottle and a small hand towel.  He said you will need a larger towel.  I was surprised.  I got a larger towel... I was thinking to myself (how much oil are you planning on using?)  I got a large bath towel to go over my white summer coverlette, and placed it on the bed. 

He told me to turn around.  Then, all of a sudden in a flash my shirt was off my back and my bra got snapped off.  UGH!! Im naked on top!  What emerged was a moment of fear and surprise.  Not my usual way of doing things.  Um... alright.  I said ok to the massage, so Im in it.  He told me to lay face down on the bed.  I mentally paused wondering if I ought to drop the subject of massage.  But the moment was on and I went with it.  His confidence was overwhelming.  Dont worry, what follows is strangely amusing to me.

He got on the other side of the bed at my head.  I told him then that I would prefer a massage that was non-sexual, so please don't touch me in a sexual way. 

Now I will offer some personal things.  Im a little OCD about messes, spills and being touched since Im sensitive to abrupt  and rough movements I learned that night, especially since I get professional massages.  

He then proceeded to open the bottle of massage oil as I lay there face down, topless on my bed.  I was thinking that he would place some oil on his hands and then begin to softly massage my muscular back.  But NO!  He clicked the bottle open and began to Dump the contents onto my bare back.  As the oil came into contact with my skin and began to roll down my spine and then over my waist I began to jump and go into shock thinking about the spillage coming into contact with my towel and then onto my wonderful white summer coverlette.  Shit! 

Before I could get that first thought complete these unexpected hands began to come into contact with my skin.  And there it was... introduction to Mr Sandhands.  He had PSORIASIS on the palms of his hands... I had never noticed.  How could I have!  Oh my god.  If you have ever felt this before it is unlike anything you have Ever experienced!

So there he was, pushing explosive amounts of massage oil into my skin with his Sandhands!  It was as if he was sanding the skin off my back!  Simultaneously I was rethinking my serenity's survival while being bothered by the presence of this trailing oil over my sides.  I tried to speak and he was like just lay there and enjoy it.  I was stumped and in shock with this experience. 

He had NO FUCKING CLUE either how to give a nice massage to a woman.  He was just flogging my body up and down with his strokes over and over my back and spine as if he was sanding my back for premature oil painting.  It was absolutely pathetic and horrible.  And here I am, freaking out half naked on my stomach.  Then...

There is was... The last stroke for me.  He went for my ass, within a few moments of the beginning of the oil frenzy.  And there it happened.  He grabbed at my ass after I told him "no sexy touches!"  My poor body was teaming in confusion!  What's happening!!! "Where's the Sports Massage? Why and I getting ahuman sanding!" says my body. 

I then told him, no dont touch my ass.  He didn't again.  Then I was told to just relax and enjoy the massage.  Im laying there in awe that he could call this a massage.  I felt like an episode of Holmes on Homes being sanded for the refinish in the final reveal.  I just tried to coach him through it from there.  I just felt I had to take some charge in this.  I explained if he wanted me to enjoy it that he would need to go a little gentler with me.  He complied as much as he could.  But I will say that I am scarred from recieving un professional massages ever again, for fear of being sanded down or molded into a thing that will take hundreds of dollars to fix.

Then it ended and He got on the EWE bed next to me.  I was drenched in oil and could feel the skin on my back slightly friction burned from his "massage".  Im slimy and oily.  Then he asks me if I want to massage him.  All I wanted was a shower and to move the towel off my bed for fear of regretting leaving it behind.  I quickly admitted this need for a shower and that I was too tired to offer back.  Indian giver... Its not my emotional response to his massage, but to be clean is.  He then got a phone call he had been waiting for, and I quickly raised myself from the bed clutching the towel and off to the shower I went.

In five minutes I was done, and he was still on his cell.  Thank God.  I was in a long robe and grabbed some underwear.  Then he came over to me as he got off the phone. 

He asked me an odd question as I was standing in my white robe... "Did I know how to fight, to defend myself if I was ever attacked?"  Now this was a bit odd in this moment.  Im thinking, "What's Next Here?"  Mr Sandhands proceeded to show me some moves that clearly showed me that he was very experienced in self defense.  And this is what he then tells me about himself.

He used to hang out with a biker group after having a run in with one member of a tough group.  He didn't back down from this man and the next thing he knew he was friends with the group.  He then turned out to be a body guard for one of their leaders in a bar of some sorts.  Ummm... ok, "How can I get this guy out of my apartment in the city without much damage or fear?"  This was very real... he Really knew what he was talking about with his fighting skills.  He was swift and right about all the movements.  Now, I'm not a toughy by any standards, and this guy did not have the typical fighter standards at all.  He wore it very privately and showed it very well when he felt like it.

Well, the date ended shortly after the show... and all was well.  So I thought. 

When he called the next day I let him know that I was unable to go kyaking with him later that afternoon.  He told me it was ok, that the rivers would not dry up and he was not selling the kayaks anytime soon.  Ok good, that's over.

Later that night I had a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a while who I've known for years.  He spoke russian and grew up over there and was here for professional reasons in the States.  He also used to be a weight lifter who specialized in weight lifting.  I never had an issue of safety with him since for years I have trusted him as my friend.  I had told him about the date earlier and we both laughed knowing me the way we both know me.  We then watched a dvd.   Then he went home shortly after midnight.

Well, 15 minutes later he called me from his car.  He began to ask me if I knew someone in a white volvo.  I asked him why.  He told me that when he came out of my apartment he was stared down by a man who had dark hair, glasses and was in a white volvo.  That when he pulled away from my apartment he was followed by him all this time.  He knew he was being followed after he noticed him behind him for so long that he would see if he would pass him if he drove slowly, thinking he would pass him  He didn't pass him.  That's when he called me, just then he pulled off from behind him just as a police car was coming the other way.

I told him not to confont him since he was an experienced fighter and was obviously a bit crazy.  Wow.  How far will Mr Sandhands go?  Well, lets just say I never called him again.  I did see him once more out in a bdsm club.  He was wearing a kilt.  When he tried to talk to me I just said I was on my way out, and asked a friend to walk me out.  Im all done.

Lesson to learn here.  Don't trust your second instincts.  The ones that try to convince you its ok to have a stranger over to your house for the first time for a friendly non sexual massage.  That was my responsibility not to allow.  I was fortunate nothing else happened.  I did learn this lesson very well after this happening.   I learned to trust an earlier lesson about filling in that false sense of security with sexuality.  Its really ok to wait as long as you can to get to know someone.  But even then, it doesn't prove you know them any better. 

Dating is a special experience in itself.  Online dating can sometimes take what's natural in a normal moment of attraction, and turn it into a real life shopping experience.  You never know what you really are getting until you take it home and experience it for yourself...