Tinder | Online Dating
Tinderella Diary: An Erotic Memoir — Chapter 34
Jonathan — The Ice Cream Man
Jonathan wanted to make a legit date with me. I had been sleeping around just over a month.
“How would you like to meet me for some ice cream?” He offered.
“Sure, that sounds sweet.” I really thought it was a cute idea.
“Does Thursday at 4 PM work for you?”
“Sounds great!” I replied. I love ice cream and was excited to maybe suggest one of the gourmet places I liked. Or maybe even yogurt where you pay by the ounce.
“How about Rite Aid in Granada Hills?”
“Ok.” Definitely not the fancy ice cream I was hoping for, but I grew up with Rite Aid ice cream (formerly Thrifty) and it was always good. Plus, I just wanted to be with this guy anyways, and I didn’t want to waste ten to fifteen dollars of this dude’s money on ice cream, when he would only need to spend three or four.
Jonathan was a born and raised valley boy, and I could see from his profile that he was Jewish. Not that it matters to me, but I am Jewish. Aaron Black’s father is Jewish, but he never had a strong relationship with the man and never really identified with the Jewish faith. Rob is not Jewish, and although I am not at all observant, our son Elijah is well aware that he is half-Jewish, and probably identifies as Jewish. As for my upbringing, we never attended synagogue, and we did celebrate Jewish holidays, but mostly for the food, and not by the book. By the time my grandmother died 12 years ago, and everyone in the family married someone non-Jewish, our religious affiliation became mostly from our appearance. I am definitely obviously Jewish to someone who knows what a Jew looks like. I know my look is not everyone’s cup of Manischewitz, but I figured everyone who swiped right on me liked what he saw, or at least was so horny he didn’t give a fuck.
Jonathan’s bio says he lives in Granada Hills, dangerously close to my work and home. Meeting Jonathan at 4 pmgave me time to pick up Elijah from camp and leave him with Rob while I “do some shopping at the mall” and be back in time to take Elijah to soccer practice for his new summer team by 7 pm. Rob would be promised a break, and he wouldn’t be so inconvenienced by watching his son. Lately, it seemed like everything I did inconvenienced him.
I got to Rite Aid at 4pm sharp and didn’t see anyone resembling Jonathan’s profile pics. I went inside and pretended to look at the greeting card section, which had a great view of the ice cream counter. After 15 minutes of pacing, I started to worry that he wasn’t going to show. Maybe he saw me and took off? I went next door into the supermarket, grabbed a basket, and pretended to shop while constantly checking my phone. About 5 minutes later, it rang. It was Jonathan.
“Uh, hey…where are you?”
“Oh, I just ran next door to pick up a few things. Where are you?”
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“I’m in front of Rite Aid,” Jonathan stated.
“Ok. Be right there.” I dropped my basket and went back to Rite Aid.
When I saw him standing there, he had a very familiar face. Not like I had seen him before, but more like he was a prototype of someone, perhaps that cute Jewish guy from summer camp that every adolescent girl harbors a major crush on. According to Tinder, he is 35 years old. He is handsome, 6 feet tall, and masculine and broad-shouldered but not imposing. He is obviously Jewish with a buzzed head (perhaps to cover up thinning hair, like Rob does), biggish crooked-ish teeth, and a prominent but attractive nose.
His profile said he was better at this in person, but he certainly made a good first impression on me. After a few seconds of greetings and hugs, I feel like I had known him for a long time. Almost like a cousin, but not in a gross way, because I definitely wanted him, and I DON’T want my cousins.
We walk over to the ice cream counter and sample some flavors. I stand very close to him and lace my fingers with his. He seems surprisingly surprised by this, but not at all put off.
“What’s the difference between pecan praline and butter pecan?” He sort of asks me.
“I think pecan praline has a caramelly taste to it.” I sort of answer, a little distracted because I didn’t at all want ice cream.
Jonathan settles on either pecan praline or butter pecan, and I settle on my nostalgic favorite, chocolate malted crunch. He pays with his credit card, and when he does, I try to check out his last name. Gold-something. Goldman? Goldstein? Goldberg? I dunno.
“Mmm…” I fake moan, taking a seductive lick of my ice cream, as he fumbles to hold his ice cream cone while returning his wallet to his pocket. When everything is in place, we walk outside Rite Aid. It is a hot July day, and the ice cream is already starting to melt. I requested mine in a cup because I predict that it is going to melt all over the place. His is in a cone, and I know that because he chose to have his ice cream in a cone, he wasn’t expecting what happened next. I start kissing him. Right there in front of Rite Aid and the world. With my cup of chocolate malted crunch securely in my hand, and his cone precariously balancing in one of his, while the other one wrapped around my waist, we stood there making out like two teenagers in front of Rite Aid.
When we take a break, his head darts from right to left. He asks, “Where should we go?”
“I dunno,” I reply, “let’s go for a walk.” We walk over to the side of the building, where both of our cars were parked next to each other with an empty car space in between. We drop our ice cream, with only a few bites gone, into the trash, and cross the street into a residential neighborhood.
We talk a little bit. Where did he go to school? Van Nuys High. I figure if he went there and grew up here, he must have been in one of the magnets. “Medical or Performing Arts?” I inquire, thinking it would be Medical.
“Performing Arts” He responded, and I was a little surprised.
“Did you do plays and stuff?”
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“No, I was in Stage Crew and Set Design.”
“Oh.” Stage crew kids were so different from the acting, singing, dancing types that were my ilk. I was surprised. He tells me he kind of followed his friends there from middle school. He told me he wound up majoring in Business Administration from CSUN and was currently working on cars for a living. I did not expect this guy to be a grease monkey. But it gave me something else to talk about with him. Rob was a huge car guy, so I was comfortable carrying on a conversation about cars. He tells me that he has a 25 year old brother who played football at the school I work at, who I am almost positive I would know, if I was concentrating enough on what Jonathan was saying to remember his brother’s first name.
We start making out again. This time no ice cream, as we dropped them, almost full into a trash can. Our bodies close, heart beats racing, and I feel the bulge from his pants against me. He stops, looks around, puts his hand in his pocket to grab himself, and says, “You really like PDA, don’t you?” He still seemed very surprised that this is where this was going.
“I like the A,” I retorted.
“I think I have an idea where we can go.” He said. I guess his home isn’t an option. He either lives with his parents or is married, but he didn’t divulge. “Let’s go back to our cars.”
We get in Jonathan’s Honda Accord, he in the driver’s seat and me in the passenger seat, and we start kissing again. This time hotter and heavier. He caresses and sucks on my breasts, pulling them out from the top of my bra while it still remains fastened around my ribcage. I pull his hard dick out and see the pre-cum glistening down his shaft. Rob isn’t a pre-cummer, so I am not used to this phenomenon, but it turns me on in a major way.
I can tell how aroused he is. He has a really good-looking penis. Well-endowed, but not freakishly humongous or thick, or long and skinny. Good color. Good shape. Pleasing to the eye. I’m not a dick fiend, but this is a good one. I’m sure he wants me to suck it, even though he doesn’t motion for me to do so. I did NOT want to blow this guy in his car and be on my merry way. I want it all and I am going to get it.
I fling my bra onto the floor of his car, slip off my shorts, and crawl on top of him. It isn’t as easy or sexy as I saw Dakota Johnson do to Jamie Dornan recently in the third installment of the 50 Shades of Grey movies. I don’t know what it is with this guy, but something definitely gets to me. He says he is a little nervous doing it without a condom, but I convince him that I am on the pill or something. I fuck him on his lap for a few minutes, until he tells me his circulation is cut off and the seat of his car is drenched with sweat and both of our sexual fluids. Neither of us have cum, but there is wetness everywhere.
“I have an idea,” he exclaims. I got off of him. He starts his car, I put on my bra, underwear and shorts. He said he was taking me to an outdoor park area that he used to go when he was in high school and smoke and fool around with girls.
We drive around for a while, and he finds a place to park in Porter Ranch in a residential area adjacent to a hiking trail in the woods. I wonder how we were going to do it outdoors. We walk into a wooded area, obscured by trees. Nice and private, and the trees also keep the heat out. There is a tree that practically grows perpendicular to the ground. You could sit on it.
Oh, I see. He wants to do it standing up. He turns me around, wiggles me out of my shorts and panties
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at the same time, and suggests I bend over and grab the tree. This is how we did it. Honestly, it was super exciting. Outdoors, in nature, but hidden away, without the fear of getting caught. He pounded me hard with delight, and maybe I freaked out some little animals with my moans.
Eventually, he came in me and gave me a few napkins he had brought from his car so I could wipe off my private parts. I didn’t have an orgasm, which I don’t usually do from behind, but it was a very enjoyable experience. I put the bottom half of my clothes back on and he zipped up.
“What do you want to do now?” Jonathan asks me.
“It’s 7/11 day. I could sure go for a free Slurpee.” I said, which was hilarious after wasting almost an entire scoop of ice cream. But I wanted one and figured it would give us something fun to do.
We pull up at a 7/11 in Porter Ranch, which is a neighborhood full of my students and co-workers, and dangerously close to home. The store is a mess, there is a small line, but it moves fast and it gives us time to talk, which we did a lot. We held hands. We kissed. It felt like we were a couple. When we got back to his car, I noticed that it was 6:40pm.
“Shit!” I exclaim.
“Oh yeah, your soccer practice…” Jonathan had been paying attention. I was impressed.
He drove me back to my car, and we quickly said good-bye. I apologized for jumping him in his car; he giggled. He said he had fun, and we should get together soon.
“Yeah sure…” I thought to myself.
I called Rob. “Get Elijah dressed and ready for soccer! And get his water ready. I lost track of time at the mall, and I’m just going to pull into the driveway, and you can send him outside.”
“Ok,” Rob responded dutifully.
Thankfully, Elijah made it to his practice with two minutes to spare. It was a good practice.
