Julie and I texted a bit on Sunday while we both did chores and then met friends in the afternoon. She told me several times what a great time she had, and was already looking forward to seeing me again next Saturday.

After trading a few texts on Monday, during the workday, I told her I’d call her about 7:30 pm. We talked for about thirty minutes before she rushed me off the phone because her favorite show was about to start, The Bachelor. Naturally, I teased her, “Will you accept my rose?”

I texted her a short note early on Tuesday morning, wishing her a good day at work. Usually, she texted me back within a couple of minutes, but not this time. I figured she was busy at the office on the phone or in a meeting. At 12:30 pm I heard my phone ding. When I grabbed the phone, I saw Julie’s name and a smile appeared on my face.

I opened the text and began reading. Tony, I really had a great time Saturday. You’re a really nice guy, but just not the guy for me. I’m sorry. Good Luck with your dating search. Julie.

I was bummed. No, I was crushed. While we had only been on two dates, I thought maybe we might be able to build something long-term. I waited a couple of hours to reply.

Dear Julie, I was disappointed to read your text. I wish you the best. Tony.

I took the high road and felt good about myself. I thought that was the last of Miss Julie Ridgeway.

**

I was just about to go meet my beer buddies on Friday afternoon for Happy Hour when I received a text from an unknown number. Can you call me while I drive to Sacramento? I want to talk with you.

Drive to Sacramento? Area Code 925? This must be Julie, I reasoned. But I deleted her contact information when she dumped me on Monday. Just to mess with her, I wrote, New phone, who dis?

My phone rang within five seconds; it was the same 925 number. “Hello?” I answered.

“Who dis? Very funny, wiseguy!” she said. “I guess I deserve that for breaking up with you.”

“What do you want?” I asked in a monotone voice.

“I want to apologize and say I am so sorry. I was in a really bad mood on Monday and Tuesday. I was doubting myself, and I felt like a slut for sleeping with you on our second date,” she said.

“Look,” I said, “you’re not a slut. Our chemistry was on fire. And we’re adults. We can have sex on the first, or second date, if we like.” I hoped this would make her feel better.

“I was having a bad day Tuesday, and all I could think of was that you can find a better woman than me,” Julie said. “One who has a degree. One who is thinner. One who is prettier.”

We talked for about twenty minutes, and we talked in circles. I told her she was attractive and that I loved her curves. I told her she had a solid job and that I didn’t care if she had a degree or not. Then she would whine about not being good enough to date me. Or skinny or pretty enough. And then we’d repeat the same cycle.

“Can I stop in Oak Valley tomorrow after I leave Sacramento?” Julie asked. “I’d really like to give us another try if you’re willing to give us another try.”

“Sure,” I said. “We can talk. I’ll make something easy for dinner.”

**

Julie arrived Saturday just after 6:00 pm. Not knowing what frame of mind she might be in, I did not go all out for dinner like I had the week before. I also purposely did not have any wine out, but a big pitcher of sun tea. I poured us each a glass and we sat at the dining table.

She went on to tell me that she has battled depression for the past ten-plus years, mainly about her self-worth. It stems from her voluptuous size. Her mother was always telling her she needed to lose weight after she went through puberty in the sixth grade. “I went from a skinny kid to a chubby tween,” she said.

I reached across the table and took her hand in mine, “So did I. I was a pudgy kid from sixth grade until the middle of my freshman year in high school. I changed my diet and started jogging to lose weight. I dropped twenty-five pounds in five months. I can show you old photos,” I told her. “I totally get it.” Thankfully, she declined.

I served dinner and we continued to talk about more personal things. Afterward, I certainly had a better understanding of her childhood and why she has a bad relationship with her mother. The verbal abuse was not just about her weight, but her grades, her friends, and basically everything. She said her mother was a raging alcoholic. When her mom was drunk, she would lash out at the kids.

Julie also admitted that just out of high school she was running with a bad group. There were four guys and three girls who hung out every day. They smoked pot, drank, and had sex. One week she’d sleep with one guy, two weeks later another guy from the group, and so on. It was like a merry-go-round of so-called boyfriends.

She floored me when she told me that for a short month, she did meth. When her boyfriend wanted her to try heroin, she knew she had to make a change. That was when she moved from her mom’s house in Hayward to her dad’s place in Santa Rosa. She had to get far away from that guy and that group of so-called friends.

I wasn’t sure where the evening was going as I loaded the dishwasher, nor was I sure if I wanted to try to date this woman. She had some serious baggage, and she needed to unpack her American Tourister with a good therapist, in my opinion.

We moved into the living room, and I purposely did not sit on the couch near Julie. We talked some more when she got up and walked to my leather club chair. Putting her hands on the arm rolls, she leaned over and kissed me. The second time it was a long French kiss. When I opened my eyes, I could see right down her shirt and saw those two delicious big boobs. Oh shit, I thought to myself.

She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me up from the chair. I fought back. She tried again. I did not budge. Knowing what was about to happen, my cock started growing with excitement.

“What are you doing?" I asked.

Looking at me, she whispered, “I want to make it up to you. Let’s go to your bed.”

We were naked in record time as clothes were scattered all over the bedroom floor. Julie was the aggressor, lying atop my chest while kissing me as we lay atop my bed. I moved, turning on my side, forcing her onto her side. I draped my top leg over both of hers as we kissed. Her hand reached down, finding my erect dick. She slowly began stroking me.

“Lay on your back,” Julie said.

After moving, she ended up between my legs, in the perfect position to give me a blowjob. She spat on my cock and went back to stroking my prick up and down.

“Mmmm, you have a nice-looking cock, Tony. Your head kind of looks like a bell,” she whispered.

“Or a mushroom,” I mumbled, as I enjoyed the handjob.

After a few long, slow, sensual licks, and flicking my “bell,” Julie started sucking and bobbing on my knob. She slowly went down all the way, gagging a bit.

Not knowing what she meant when she said she was going to “make it up to me,” I thought I’d let her drive this bus. Normally, I’d be moving her here and there, telling her to suck or fuck, but I wanted to see what she had in mind.

After about ten minutes of some of the best cock sucking I’ve experienced, she got up and ran into the living room, coming back with her oversized purse. She then pulled out a large Ziploc baggie, which contained several sex toys. Julie pulled two out and looked at me, grinning.

“Let me put on a show for you. While I use my toys, I want to watch you play with yourself,” she said.

“Sounds good to me,” I said with a grin.

Julie moved a few pillows and she leaned back against the pillows and headboard. “Can you get me a towel? I get really wet with my vibrator,” she said sheepishly.

After positioning the towel, she started with the life-like cock dildo. It was flesh-colored and about eight inches long, I guessed. It had a nice big head, like me, a realistic ball sack, and over-exaggerated blood vessels. She slowly rubbed the head of the dildo in her slit. Going slowly up and down, Julie pushed the faux cock into “Pandora’s Box.”

Julie methodically teased her pussy as she slid the dildo in and out until a good six inches was buried in her cunt. I played with myself, and I was really getting turned on. I had done a lot of kinky things with women and toys, but I had never watched one fuck herself while I stood and jacked off.

“That is so hot,” I told Julie. “Rub your tits. Pinch your nipples.”

She followed my instructions while pulling the dildo out and plunging it back in. “Tony, talk dirty to me,” she begged in a raspy tone.

“Oh, does the vixen want me to talk dirty? Julie likes big dildos in her cunt. Work that thing in your pussy. How many do you have in that bag? I’ll put one in your mouth and one in your ass if you’d like,” I said quickly.

Julie shook her head. “No anal. Just jerk off for me. Tony.”

I stepped closer to the bed, my shins hitting the bed frame, and I spat in my palm so I could beat off.

“Here,” she said, pulling a bottle of lube out of the baggie. She then found a long skinny purple rocket-shaped vibrator, turning it on. Its BUZZZ filled the room.

As my hand now slid easily on my greased pole, I asked, “Can I play with your tits?”

“Yes, pinch my nipples,” she muttered as she pressed the vibrator on her engorged clitoris.

Julie moved the vibe all around her clit as she continued to slowly move the dildo in and out of her kitty. And she was right; her pussy was flowing. I could see a dark wet spot on the navy-blue bath towel we put down.

I moved to the other side of the bed so I could reach her right boob. I first caressed it like a gentleman. I then teased her nipple, rolling it between two fingers. Next, I leaned over and flicked the nipple with my tongue before taking as much as I could into my mouth and sucking. After a few seconds, I stood back up and my hand went back to rubbing and pinching her breast.

Julie was working herself into a frenzy, moaning and squirming as she kept moving the vibe around her clit. “I’m really close,” she whispered.

“Yeah, cum for me. You look so hot, Julie!” I said. “More tit play?”

“Yes. Be rough and slap me, pinch harder,” she said, surprising me.

I roughly grabbed her breast and squeezed hard. Julie’s reaction told me that she enjoyed it. I pinched her nipple as hard as I could. Julie threw her head back and groaned. I continued slowly stroking my rock-hard cock.

“C’mon, Julie! Cum! Cum! Cum for me!” I exclaimed.

I then did as she asked; I slapped her boob.

“Harder!” she pleaded.

This time I slapped her tit as hard as I could, making sure to smack her nipple. SMACK!

Julie flinched. “Yes! Harder!”

I slapped again.

“AAGGGHHH!” she screamed as she climaxed. Her entire body shook. Legs, midsection, and upper torso. This looked like a huge full-body orgasm.

“Yeah, baby! Enjoy it. Focus on the orgasm,” I encouraged her.

Julie was still quivering a bit and trying to catch her breath fifteen seconds later. The vibrator was still running as it lay on the bed. The cock-like dildo was all the way into her sex, filling her honey hole.

“Should I take out the dildo?” I asked.

She shook her head “no” a bit, mumbling, “No, it feels so good in me.”

Opening her eyes, she saw me jerking off. “Hey,” she said, getting my attention. “I know you want to cum on my big tits. Jerk off on my tits.”

I focused on her mammoth Matterhorn mountains as I stood next to the bed and stroked. Julie’s hand appeared and she pushed her two milk melons together. “Right here, Tony.”

“Ohhh, fuck. I’m close,” I whispered.

“Cum on me! Cum on my tits! Shoot your big load!” Julie said.

I felt my nut sack tighten and I got that feeling, a little buzzing electric shock, and I knew my sperm was on its way. I stroked faster and faster in that split second.

“FUCK YES! I’M CUMMING!” I yelled as I blasted a rope of pearly white jizz across her body. It stretched almost five inches across her left boob in a splatter pattern. The second jet shot almost as far, landing in her cleavage.

“Oh my!” Julie exclaimed as she released her tits from her hands.

A few more small bullets of cum dotted her right breast.

I looked down and saw my cock starting to ooze spunk. “Suck me,” I told Julie.

We both moved a bit, and she took my abused purple head into her mouth as she sucked the flowing cum from my cock. She then milked the last few blobs of man juice from my dick.

She released my manhood and giggled. “Look,” she mumbled, trying to talk with a large tablespoon of spunk on her tongue. She then swallowed.

I started laughing slightly. “That was fun, and so fucking hot! I loved watching you work those toys in your kitty,” I told her.

“Watching you jerk and shoot your load was pretty good too,” Julie told me, smiling ear to ear. “And your cum tastes good too.”

Hearing that, I wiped up the remaining jizz off her boobs and held my fingers near her lips. Her tongue appeared and licked the spunk off my fingers.

I grabbed the towel under her pussy, noticing that it had a three-inch wet spot.  I then cleaned off her tits, removing the remaining sticky spots.

We went out to the kitchen and had something to drink, and then held each other in a tender embrace. Julie and I were feeling something, but we were not sure exactly what to call it.

Not twenty minutes later we were back in bed, and she was begging me to fuck her harder, as I slammed her pussy in doggy. I did not last long, and this time I shot a small load of my sweet cream on her lower spine.

Julie and I took a quick rinse in the shower and crawled into bed, exhausted from our sexcapades. As we spooned, my cock got hard. Julie giggled, and then wiggled her ass. “In the morning, Tony. You wore me out.”

**

In the morning we both were a bit sore and tired, so we skipped any thought of morning sex. After brunch, Julie packed up her stuff and took her third bouquet of flowers home. We both spent the afternoon at home doing needed chores and errands.

As the day went on, I was conflicted about our short relationship. I liked Julie. I loved flirting with her. She’s cute. She’s fun in bed. But I was bothered by her heavy drug use in her late teens. Could I really see myself with her long-term? Was this the woman I wanted to be my life partner, and who I wanted to grow old with?

She also seemed very dedicated to her autistic grandson, which I understood. But how would that play into our relationship? Would he be a deciding factor on things like vacation travel or possible relocation in a decade when we wanted to retire?

Thankfully, I received a group text that afternoon. The beer boys were going to meet at 4:00 pm at our pub. I didn’t think about Julie or our relationship for the rest of the day.

**

Julie and I texted several times on Monday and spoke in the evening. We did the same Tuesday, but something just wasn’t feeling right to me. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I still had doubts about the future with the voluptuous redhead.

On Wednesday, I still had a weird gut feeling when thinking about Julie. I texted her our standard morning “how are you” message, but I just could not see us long term. Or, just as importantly, her moving to Oak Valley and blending in with my adult children, my extended family, or my group friends and their wives.

Just before 3:00 pm, I sent Julie a text: Dear Julie, I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m just not feeling it. You’re really cute and have so many things I look for in a woman, but I don’t see us in a long-term relationship. I’m so sorry. I wish you the best. Tony.

Two minutes later my phone dinged. It was from Julie, so I quickly opened the text: You fucking asshole! I laid my heart out to you this weekend. I was falling for you, and you ripped out my heart. Fuck off! Do not ever contact me again!

I wrote back: I’m sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.

She replied: Don’t contact me, you fucking prick!

I shook my head and walked out of my office to get some fresh air. When I returned five minutes later, I had three more texts from her.

Text #1: Were you getting back at me for breaking up with you after our first date?

Text #2: Never mind. I don’t care. I hate you. Fuck off!

Text #3: Did you block me? Why haven’t you answered!

I read the texts and had two feelings: laughter and sorrow. I laughed because she was spinning out of control, and I felt sorry for her. I now had a decision; do I text her back or not?

Ten minutes later I decided to text Julie one last time: I did not block you. I received all three texts. But you asked me not to contact you, so I wasn’t going to reply. Now I have replied, I hope you’re satisfied. PLEASE do not text me again because I will NOT get it. I am now going to BLOCK you, and then DELETE you from my contacts. Best Wishes.

I went ahead and blocked Julie’s number, and then deleted her from my address book. I thought I’d never hear from her again, but I was wrong.

That afternoon I met up with my beer boys, just like we do every Wednesday. Someone asked about my “curvy redhead”, and I had to give the boys a Reader’s Digest version of our split. Needless to say, they all thought it was hilarious. Understand that they are all married, and have enjoyed all of my online dating tales, good or bad.

On Thursday, my morning started just like every single workday. My alarm went off, I got up, I showered, dressed, and started the coffee pot. I headed to the front door to grab the newspaper off the porch. When I stepped out on the porch, I could not miss the big item on the small table between the two white rocking chairs.

On the table were the last two vases of flowers that I had given Julie. I was shocked. I quickly had flashbacks to Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction with Michael Douglas. Are the flowers like the rabbit? I then laughed, realizing that she drove two hours round trip to bring the flowers back. Two hours! Only a psycho-crazy bitch would waste two hours to do that. Two hours!

As I picked up my newspaper, I noticed that there was a sheet of paper on the table. I grabbed the piece of binder paper and quickly saw it was a letter from Julie.

She started the letter by apologizing for her initial reaction and texts. She explained that she was just heading into a meeting yesterday and my text couldn’t have arrived at a worse time. Next, she told me she thought she saw a future for us, but not after yesterday’s shitshow. And, finally, to never contact her again, and to “FUCK OFF!”

The End.

Follow-Up: About a year and a half later, I was on a different dating app, and as I was swiping left to pass on women’s profiles, up popped Julie’s photo. It’s an app where women have the power, and where men can not contact the woman initially, only “like” them. So, I hit the star button liking her.

Later that night I received a message from Julie, We tried this once. It didn’t work. Please don’t contact me again.

She opened the door. Now that she messaged me, I could send her a message back. I see your point. If you’d just like to be a FWB message me back. You have to admit, WE HAD FUN SEX!

I never heard back from Julie.

**Please note the new story photo: those are the flowers and letter Julie left on my porch as described in the story.