Vauxhall Nova

The first date wasn’t exactly a date, but it was to us. We’d had such a good time that we did the same thing on our second date: driving around in his Vauxhall Nova, listening to music, getting to know each other, and occasionally parking up to make out.

On the second date, though, The Lapdog brought a little something extra.

“Do you smoke?” he asked, holding up a joint.

I grinned. “I sure do!”

It had been a while since I’d last smoked, but I’d always loved it. I was a stoner before I was a drinker, and I’d always come back to it from time to time over the years. I couldn’t smoke and drink at the same time (whiteouts for days,) and I was still very much in my booze era when we met. The Lapdog was the return of my stoner era.

We smoked the joint, hotboxing the car in the process, just listening to music and talking about this n’ that. It was so easy, so simple, so relaxed. Such an underrated date idea, in my opinion. What better way to get to know someone than long car drives and background music… with or without the pot, of course?

I can still remember how much I laughed that night. He made me laugh so much that I genuinely thought I was going to pee my own pants on more than one occasion. The joint probably helped with that, but I remember looking at him and thinking, this guy is really funny.

I learned that he was a skater. Rollerblades, not skateboards. “I’m not a dirty wood-pusher,” he sneered when I asked. He loved drum and bass music, Slipknot, black coffee with one sugar, my eyes, car stuff, handholding, and kissing me, apparently.

“We haven’t kissed yet?” I frowned.

“I just know it,” he said. “You’re a good kisser.”

So then, of course, we had to put his theory to the test. I couldn’t know whether or not I was a good kisser, but he was a great kisser. One of the best, I think. I could’ve made out with him for hours, and I was not expecting that.

Making out soon led to roaming hands, which then led to me crawling over the centre console to straddle him. It was all so natural, so easy, so how a first time fuck should be. Well, maybe not in the car, but still.

Somehow, in the confined space of the driver’s seat in his Vauxhall Nova, we managed to wriggle free of our respective jeans, then our respective underwear, until I could slide myself down on his dick. Then, I rode him. Frantically and frenzied, sure… but close. He pulled me closer. I pulled him closer. It was as if we couldn’t get close enough. And there was lots of making out, too. Neverending kisses. Kisses for days.

Our first fuck didn’t last long. Ten minutes perhaps? It was all we needed. I did that thing with my hips that grinds my clit against his body, and he sat there and took it like the good boy, he always was. Just as my orgasm subsided, his arrived; and once again, Lapdog pulled as close as possible when he exploded inside me. The noise he made as he came has stayed with me to this day. It was the best moan. A perfect moan. That’s what just what The Lapdog was: perfect kisses, perfect moans, and if I’m being honest about this, the perfect dick, too.

He might’ve been the perfect man.

Unfortunately, I was not the perfect woman.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Pizza Delivery Boy.