Don’t Judge a Book By It’s Cover and Other Lessons Learned (2nd in the Golden Series)

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When a second girl drank my piss I was a little less surprised than I was the first time around. There were a couple of reasons for this apart from the obvious of previously having an old girl friend drink my piss in as act of atonement. The second girl who ended up drinking my piss was actually the third one that I spoken to over the course of a few months who was willing to try. So when it happened I already had a sense that it was just a matter of time and circumstance, but still the build up and anticipation was exhilarating About sixteen years ago I moved to Toronto and I was living by myself in an apartment just north of the Danforth. For those unfamiliar with Toronto, the Danforth is a major street that runs east from downtown and goes through a traditionally Greek neighborhood. It’s a great strip for all kinds of restaurants and pubs. Also for those unfamiliar with Toronto for some reason ‘the’ commonly precedes Danforth when referring to this street. I’m not sure why, but it does. Anyway, I didn’t know too many people in town when I first arrived and as much for something to do as for company, I started calling a dating line that was a forerunner to internet dating services. Successful calls usually went in one of two directions. Either I would end up meeting for a drink or we would get each other off over the phone. Sometimes there would be both, but it was an exception to meet someone that I’d already had phone sex with. While almanbahis I’m sure there were some who just liked to phone fuck, I think for others the idea of meeting a stranger that they’ve already gotten off with was probably just a little too daunting. Meeting off of the phone was always a bit of crap shoot too, because even with the self descriptions provided they were still blind dates. I really was only lied to about appearance once and that girl came clean just ahead of our date – we still met. Aside from that, no matter how honest a description was given, when it comes to looks so much is subjective, especially faces. Certainly there are people in this world that can be universally agreed to be physically attractive, but for a great swath of humanity there’s considerable room for personal tastes and what I’ll call the intangibles. I think the more women that I met off the line the more I focused on intangibles, and the more I focused on such things the more successful dates likely became. It’s not like I discarded physical attraction as part of my criteria and I couldn’t comment on what sort of objective concessions those I met were prepared to make, but a certain focus on certain objectives provided their own undeniable motivations. Typically I tried to arrange meetings in a pub near my place. I had a couple reasons for this: I’m lazy and if things didn’t work out at least my place was just around the corner; and while almanbahis yeni giriş I never stood anyone up, about ten percent of my dates were no shows. Besides, I think some of the women preferred meeting away from their neighborhoods in order to mitigate the risk of exposing a local hangout to a potential stalker. If no shows were an issue for me when meeting, the acquisition of a stalker seemed to be both the biggest and the more serious problem faced by that women. The first woman that I spoke to about drinking my piss was a women that I’d just met on a date from the phone line. She was one of the exceptional women who I’d gotten off with over the phone, in limitless detail, who was still also into meeting. Though I’d never spoken to her about piss ahead of our meeting there were plenty of other themes that we touched on including fucking her ass in the ally around back of the bar. I was in my early thirties and she was several years older in her late thirties. She was a petite 5′ 3″, blue eyed blond with over-sized facial features. This baseline description could an be built upon to describe a vision of erotic beauty, unfortunately for me I lacked that blueprint. Despite her clear willingness, maybe even an over willingness, in this case I wasn’t attracted to her at all. Considering past conversations and the premise of our meeting, I unconvincingly told her at the end of date that I had a good time, but that I didn’t almanbahis giriş like sleeping with someone on the first date. Seriously, I can’t believe how lame I am at fabricating a plausible excuse on the spot. It really wasn’t even on the spot either, because I was trying to come up with something pretty much since the moment that she arrived. She did take the let down gracefully though, but when we when outside to hail her a taxi she said that before she left that she wanted a kiss. Not just a quick kiss, but a good one. To me if that’s what it took to end the date on a positive note, then I was fine it. She wanted a little more privacy than crowded Danforth sidewalk and so did I, so we walked around the corner and by the ally behind a store called the Lucky Spot we kissed. While I’ve often heard women talk and fixate on the quality of kiss, it’s not usually my focus or a big point of anticipation when I think of being with someone. I like kissing enough, but for me it’s usually more of a happy precursor or gateway to the more hardcore carnal drug of my imagination. This kiss though was incredible and attraction aside she had my cock stating to fill with blood. I’m not sure if it was her sloppy mouth, the effort that she made or the culmination of things, but if there was a little more privacy or if I had a few more beers I would have put her up against the wall and fucked her right there. My brain was beginning to reconsidering my plans with her, but attraction aside, I had a feeling that she could be a post coital hassle. She’d spoken so bitterly of past relationships and their ongoing effects that I couldn’t help but see a theme of difficulty in her relationships.

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