Jock My Dating Life NSFW / Sex True Tales 

The Tale of the 24 Hour Third Date

5.5-minute read


Jock and I went on our third date. It was wonderful. We went camping and all this cute shit happened and YES WE FUCKED AND I KNOW THAT’S WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW.

He agreed to get everything sorted as I had work during the day — and that’s just what he did. He found the cutest little campsite, organised it so that it would be just us on the site, sorted out a tent, grabbed food and beers, and even decorated the tent and surrounding space with solar-powered fairy lights to really set the mood. He did literally everything. I didn’t have to worry about a thing. It was honestly the cutest, most adorable thing anyone’s ever done for me. I know it’s just camping, but it wasn’t just camping. He made a real effort and to me, effort goes a long way, you know?

Work finished, he picked me up, took me home, and waited for me to pack everything I’d need. Then, we drove for a little while – 45 minutes or so – before pulling into a field-slash-campsite nestled in amongst the forest and rolling hills. I didn’t realise we even lived that close to such lush scenery.

“I’ll light a fire and get the BBQ going, you open the beers and put together a playlist,” he said after we arrived, putting his man-skills to good use with bits of wood and matches and firelighters.

“What songs do you like?” I asked.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied.

And we started talking about the music we liked for this scenario and that mood. It wasn’t long before the subject turned to sex. The fire was crackling beside us, we had soft music playing through a Bluetooth speaker, and the bottles of beer were going down better (and faster) than expected … We were setting the scene without needing to say the words. It was hella obvious. Well, to me it was, anyway.

“Play your favourite sex song,” he joked, and I searched for ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails on my phone. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that. He recognised it as soon as the beat kicked in; that undeniable beat that makes my nipples stiffen in mere moments. It’s a sexy as fuck song, isn’t it? It’s also the perfect song to move things in that direction, as I found out.

We barely managed thirty seconds in before we were kissing. Thirty seconds after that and we were grappling with the tiny two-man tent to try and get inside and zip it closed behind us. I landed on top of him as we tumbled in and he wrapped his arms around me and wouldn’t let go.

“Can I take your top off?” he asked, and I had absolutely no intention of saying no. I simply raised my arms up above my head in response, getting myself comfortable in my straddled position over him, a cheeky smile creeping across my face.

He seemed almost nervous as I yanked his shirt clumsily over his head, but only for a moment. As soon as I’d thrown the garment behind us he’d taken control again, spinning us around so that I was flat on my back on the floor of the tent. He kissed my stomach as he fumbled around with my belt and buttons, and as he tugged my jeans down and off he planted soft barely-there touches around my thighs and between my legs, over my pants. Each delicate little touch sent jolts of electricity racing through me, a combination of nervousness and sheer, unadulterated lust. I wanted him to remove my underwear and continue with his kisses as much as I timidly wanted him to stop.

As he felt around in the dimly-lit tent to try and remove my underwear, I felt torn: I knew he would go down on me, but that’s not the kind of thing I can do the first time I sleep with someone. It’s such an intimate moment, a blend of smell, taste, sight and touch … I wanted to make him wait for it. But at the same time, I didn’t.

Fuck it, I said to myself, melting into his touch. What’s the worst that could happen?

I closed my eyes as I rested my head back, trying to relax as much as I could. Nervousness doesn’t bode well for my orgasm and I didn’t want it to be a complete failure the first time we slept together. I definitely didn’t want it to be a failure because of my stupid nerves.

As soon as his mouth made contact with my sex, all of my nerves drifted away. He carefully and delicately kissed at me, tugging at my lips lightly with his teeth every now and then, using his tongue to lightly probe around for my clit — and he found what he was looking for, no direction necessary. We floated agonisingly between just-right and too-sensitive touches for a little while, but it didn’t take long for him to find what worked for me. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing, trying different movements and techniques until I gasped and bucked beneath him. No more than fifteen minutes later, I’d already had my first orgasm and the tent was well and truly steamed up.

After a few minutes of rest and a couple of gulps of beer, we turned our attention back to each other. I was naked, albeit covered by a sheet, but he still had his jeans on.

It was time …

I kissed him as I unclamped his belt, trying not to seem too eager in my attempts to see what he was hiding away in his underwear. His erection had been pretty obvious since he first started undressing me, but it was now time for me to really get to grips with him, in all of my favourite ways. And I did get to grips with him, but not quite in my favourite ways just yet. He grabbed a condom from his pocket right before I yanked down his jeans, so I took it upon myself to take it out of the wrapper and roll it on for him, taking his action as a prompt.

His dick was slightly smaller than I’d been expecting from the impressive bulge in his clothes, but he’s still packing plenty for me to work with. I was marginally disappointed for just a moment, but everything else about us had just fallen nicely into place, worrying about the size of his dick before I’d even road-tested it just seemed silly.

So, I road-tested it.

With a slight pattering of rain hitting the outside of the tent, and slowly fading fairy lights hanging around the place, and a barely-there crackle and sizzle of the bonfire’s remains as the rain extinguished it, I rode him. Gloriously. Loudly. With reckless abandon. Making full use of the completely secluded spot we were in, I made sure that he’d certainly remember me even if he decided never to call me again.

As I rocked back and forth on top of him, my second orgasm of the evening started to gain momentum and as he cried out, “I’m going to cum”, I came too, throwing my head back and groaning loudly as I did so.

“I’m sorry that was quick but that was also fucking fantastic,” he said to me afterwards.

And we shared a cigarette and a bottle of beer before we fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, listening to the tap-tapping of the rain outside and watching the fairy lights slowly run out of power. Yeah, I might have just fucked him in a tent in some field somewhere, but it was more than that. Much more. It was powerful. I felt … something. Safe in his arms? Satisfied? Content? I don’t know, but it was definitely something.

I’ll analyse it all tomorrow. I just wanted to let you all know that I fucked him, I’m very happy, and I can definitely see myself being with this one … as in really WITH him.

We’ll chat more tomorrow.






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