The sweet tinder divorcee
Having returned from a vacation in Europe, I had to immediately head to Chennai to attend my best friend’s wedding. South Indian weddings are usually among the most boring with all women in sarees, no drinks, no dancing and a ceremony that involves a hundred people sitting in chairs and looking on at the in-the-process-of-being-married couple sitting to one side of a blazing fire and sweating it out in not just the horrible humid weather of Chennai, but one that is made hotter by the fire in front of them and even more so with all the heavy clothing and jewellery.
Even though it was my best friend that was getting married, I was shit bored as I sat in the middle row of the seats. So, I fished out my phone and did what I normally do when I’m shit bored. Check out the chicks on Tinder. Since I was in a new city, I was looking forward to seeing some new faces. But I didn’t let my hopes run wild as Chennai, after all, is not known for its beautiful and sexy women. Quite the opposite to be honest. It is a running joke among my Tamil friends that the probability of finding a hot chick is higher in an elite engineering college (where one can find males and non-males, but no females) than in Chennai. But boredom is boredom. And there wasn’t any good licking girl (I meant good looking. Freudian slip) in the audience. Even with all the make up. So I assumed Tinder would probably be a little bit better.
On Tinder, I swipe right on anyone whom I’m ready to shag. Which is more than half the women, usually. And it had been a good couple of months since the last time I had had sex, so I was extra desperate. Which meant that even in a town like Chennai, I right swiped on 75% of the profiles. Mostly blind swiped. I only left swiped profiles that were unbearably ugly to look at. Which meant that I didn’t bother opening any profile to look at other photos.
Once I hit my limit of maximum swipes for the day, I got back to looking around the audience to see if I could spot anyone that had walked in late. Or if my standards had dropped in the last fifteen minutes and someone began to look passably attractive. Unfortunately, my standards seem to have held. And I got back to watching the wedding. The same thing seemed to be happening. The old purohit was saying something to the couple and their parents around the fire while they all nodded and added ghee to the fire from time to time. I decided to catch up on my reading, instead.
Mid way through an article on how to get an audience for erotica on Medium by a bang-able looking author, I was notified that I had a Tinder match. Curious to see which of the hundred odd profiles that I had swiped right had swiped back, I opened the notification. And my eyes went wide at what I saw.
It was a forty year old woman with the best rack I have ever seen. I felt a little tingle in my pants looking at her picture where she was wearing a body hugging dress that accentuated her breasts and highlighted her nipples. Clearly, she wasn’t wearing a bra. And she was not at all of a coal burnt complexion, like you would expect from a Chennai woman, but was passable as fair for a South Indian. When I flicked through her other photos, the tingle in my pants grew stronger. She had the perfect body and silky smooth flowing hair and a not unattractive face. She was a cougar. And her description was even more encouraging. “In Chennai for a wedding and looking for some fun. ;)”
Deciding there was no time to be lost, I messaged her saying hello and complimenting her on how beautiful she looked in her picture in her little black dress. If she had matched me, a twenty six year old, she probably knew what she was in for. In fact, I had my description similar to hers as well, “In Chennai for a wedding. Take me away from the boredom!”
Usually, girls take an hour or two before responding to the first message. But this one responded immediately. “Thanks, weddings are so boring, right? Want to get a drink?”
It was just two in the afternoon, but given how bored I was, and given how hot her body was, I would have said yes if she had asked me if I wanted to go buy rat poison with her. Anything to get a look at the real thing.
After chatting for about half an hour, we realised we were in different weddings in the same area and decided to meet up at a restaurant nearby.
I reached first and asked for a table for two and got one at the corner. After fifteen minutes, she arrived wearing the same little black dress that I had complimented her on. Either it was a coincidence or she had worn it specifically for me after I had raved on about how good she looked in it. Either way, I didn’t have time to wonder which was the case as all my cognitive power was being spent on processing the intricate details of her sexy body. As she sat down opposite me, I could see the points of her nipples through her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra today either. When she caught me staring, she said “I’m not wearing any panties either” and winked at me. That broke the ice.
As we ordered food and talked over the next hour, I realised that she was such a sweet woman and had been scorned by her husband who had cheated on her. But it had worked out well for her as she had had a few million dollars in the divorce settlement and was now spending her time traveling the world and getting into the pants of younger guys, something that she had been particularly enjoying. She had strayed away from Indians as they seemed to treat her as a sex object but had decided to take a chance on me since I had been extremely sweet and polite and had asked her to a restaurant instead of a hotel room or the back of a car.
When it was time to pay the bill and leave, she gently ran her leg up my calf and then my thigh, caressing it with her big toe. Seeing my expression, she smiled and said “I can go further up, but I think you would prefer I do it back in my room than out here” and winked. She seemed to be enjoying herself. I nodded in agreement and was praying that my jeans were strong enough to not show my erection.
I walked her out and we decided to walk the distance to her hotel as it was just two roads away.
Once in her room, she asked me to get comfortable and said she’d change and walked into the bathroom and left the door open.
When I heard the shower being turned on, I decided to take a peek. When I reached the bathroom door, I couldn’t stop staring. She was completely naked and standing in the shower with the warm water trickling down her body. When she saw me, she said “Why, don’t just stand there. Come in here and help me soap my breasts.”
The moment I took off my jeans, my erection poked out through my boxers. I think I saw her smile in approval as she beckoned me towards her with her finger. “Leave the boxers on” she said.
When I walked in under the shower and was inches away from her, she drew me towards her with her left hand, began to kiss me on the lips and let her right hand slide into my boxers and take a grip around my cock. I moved one hand up to her breasts and began to caress her nipple. And she opened her mouth to let her tongue loose on mine, and began to move her hand up and down around my cock, which had now reached its biggest. I quickly got the boxers off and took her in both my hands as I kissed her passionately.
After kissing, and her stroking my cock, and some more kissing, she pulled back with a smile and turned off the shower and got down on her knees. With her hand still around my cock, she guided it into her mouth and began to move it in and out while she licked the tip of my cock with her tongue. I moved her hair off her face so that I could see her pretty lips sucking at my cock.
A few minutes later, I could feel myself reaching climax and before I could warn her, I had released my load into her mouth. She pulled back and looked up at me with a smile. She had swallowed it whole. “Did you like it?” she asked, as she stood up again to look me in the eyes.
“I do not ever want to stop doing this with you”, I told her.
She kissed me gently on the lips and said, “Grab a towel and help me get dry and I’ll show you what else I can do.”
