Another OLD here:
Met a bloke, we had loads in common and had even been in the same class for a year (post-grad). He’d opted out of corporate life for a more eclectic lifestyle (only child, both parents dead, so had inherited a house, taken in a couple of roomies, and had enough means to get by - he did a bit of casual work, but mainly guiding for an adventure travel company, so he was quite outdoorsy and rugged).
After a few dates, we progressed to dinner at mine and had a very hot night of AMAZING sex, though to be fair I had had a looong barren patch post marriage break-up and was possibly very horny. He told me how over dinner he had fantasised about pulling me into his lap and fucking me hard on a kitchen chair. Hot hot hot.
Roll on a few days of filthy texting. Invited to his for dinner where he promised to cook a mean chilli. The mean chilli was not quite served in a billy-can, but not far off. His house was an utter tip. There was a kayak drying on the kitchen table, and he had his tent spread out over the chairs.
Em okay, but proceeded upstairs as I’d brought an overnight bag and had had a second beer.
His bedroom was filthy. Dust bunnies everywhere. Ancient sheets. Hadn’t been tidied since his mum had died. And there was a kitchen chair, which he’d wrapped fairy lights around 😳 ready for the fantasy. I was in for a penny at that stage, so.
Bumped into him last summer, and he is really a super nice guy (though not for me). He said he thought we had moved too fast. Not to hurt his feelings over the kayak on the table thing, I said yeah, we definitely had 