Pocket Lover

He met them all online, these women, young, older, tall, short, blond, brunette, a red head or two.  He could pick who he wanted, it was a veritable banquet of female flesh and yummy, yummy his cock lifted with each new match. 

The qualifying question he always asked before wasting any time getting to know each one was, do you like sex?  An affirmative response lead to other pertinent inquiries of a sexual nature just to weed out those who said yes initially but who really just wanted to be wined and dined.   He had years of practice in this arena and had this patter down pat.  It wouldn’t take long to spot and tag a potential partner for his games and he had a few on the line in one afternoon, an afternoon when he had nothing better to do but fish.

This is all harmless fun, he thought, not caring a bit about these women, they were just there for his amusement and were not real people.  They must be aware what these dating sites were all about, and it wasn’t to find true love and a committed relationship.  It was all about games and hookups.  If there were any out there who were naïve and trusting, well they would learn fast enough what’s what.   

If any woman interested him enough, or should we say, aroused him sufficiently, he would arrange a get together, a sexual encounter to seal the deal with her.  Now he had her and could illicit pleasure and entertainment from her for as long as she allowed before she got fed up and lost her patience with him.  He never planned on seeing any of them a second time.  If he had too many at once to deal with, well he could just use stall tactics and ignore those who he knew were desperate and would wait for him no matter what he said or did.  He liked those kinds the best. 

He was so lucky.  So many women loved and admired him and hung on his every word.  He never had to lift a finger or pay for any dinners or nights out, or buy them flowers, or comfort them when they felt down. He didn’t have to listen when they complained about his neglect but would just move on to another who had kinder more sexual things to say.  Nothing was expected of him, no decisions needed to be made, he had his cake and ate it too.  His pockets were full.

Boy did he laugh when one of them said he was her soul mate and twin, what a joke.  Over active imagination for sure, but she was very sexy and creative and her stories kept him entertained and were very arousing.  It was a shame that she finally got tired of waiting for him to see her. 

She lasted longer than most. 

Published by summerhilllane

contact me by email - summerhilllane2@gmail.com

8 thoughts on “Pocket Lover

  1. … definitely doesn’t describe me. In fact, I’m just the opposite. While it probably was never possible for me to love a woman fully before the first time we had sex, I most certainly had to have a very strong liking for her before I could have sex with her. Of course, then, after that initial encounter, I WAS hopelessly in love with her – or, at least, I thought I was.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Strange, for some reason, I can “like” your comments, but when I try to “like” your stories, it doesn’t seem to want to take. Who am I? Just a writer of the occasional erotic story, among other things. Funny, I have a video of myself, entitled “Who I am, Who I was”. It’s more about who I once was rather than who I am now. It has nothing to do with erotica. If you’re interested, it’s at > https://www.knightsfeather.com/Videos/i-PfpZhmF/A

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I can tell by your stories. When I write erotica, it’s mostly based on my experiences. It just seems that when I write about what I personally know, the stories write themselves. How about you? Do you write from experience or from your fantasies?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Most of my stories write themselves as if I am drawing on past life memories. Example “the submissive “. Where that came from have no idea, except I wanted to imagine what that kind of experience would be like. Don’t think I would like it much🤣. It felt like I had lived it though.


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