Hysom Zarroug

These Are My Tinder Confessions Pt. 4

Hysom Zarroug
These Are My Tinder Confessions Pt. 4
 
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These Are My Tinder Confessions Pt. 4

Here I was, another lonely Wednesday evening alone with the bong and my thoughts. As I listlessly browsed Netflix, I felt the urge growing. The sickness I so dutifully kept under wraps was seeking to make an emergence. I sighed heavily as I reached for my phone and unlocked it with the thumbprint. I barely glanced at the screen and I slid the screen right, clicked a cluster of apps, slid those to the left, and opened Tinder. I blindly swiped right a handful of times before I decided to focus on the screen. As I came across a redhead with a sporty bob, I thought to myself she seems like she would be a good time. As my thumb moved right across the screen, the coveted “It’s A Match” graphic appeared and the sickness took hold. I messaged the woman a casually non-threatening “How is your Wednesday treating you?” and returned to swiping right on the masses. Perhaps 15 minutes later, she replied with a friendly “Heyy! It’s going well *insert smiling emoji* How are you?” I paused before replying again, sensing the propensity for this scenario to go either way. “I’m doing well, just chilling kinda bored at the moment,” I messaged, gritting my teeth in angst, hoping my message did not communicate a message of thirst or lust. My misgivings were soon assuaged as she responded quickly “Well I’m a little bored myself. Maybe we could find something to do together?” I smiled so broadly that I caught my own reflection in my phone screen. I clapped back “I’m game. What did you have in mind?” She responded before I even had a chance to close the app “Why don’t you come over and we can figure it out. I’m at ____ Illif Rd.” My vision narrowed as I began the methodical process of getting ready to embark on a voyage of sickness. I hit the bong twice more, gathered my keys, changed into non-descript clothing, and slipped my shoes on. I noticed my breath in the icy air as I locked my front door and headed into the parking garage. I climbed into my car and played the southern anthem “Smoking on Purple” by Lil Boosie. The synthesized beat soothed my mind as I navigated the empty freeway and bent corners into the young woman’s apartment complex. I messaged the customary “Just parked” as I backed into a spot and exited the vehicle. The cold air stung my lungs as I climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment. I knocked at the door and waited, nearly holding my breath in anticipation. The seconds felt like minutes as I waited patiently for my muse to reveal herself. Just as I was about to knock another time, the door swung wide. The apartment was dimly lit and smelled deliciously of potent herbs. I smiled, partly to buy myself time and partly to place her mind at ease as my eyes adjusted to the light. When I finally was able to take stock of the woman in front of me, I was pleasantly surprised. She stood 5’11, slender, with long legs, and she was dressed in purple and black lingerie. Her cheesy grin suggested she was either high, drunk, or both. “Well don’t just stand there, I don’t bite!” she exclaimed as I stepped through the threshold into her lair. She closed the door behind me and locked it, smiling as she kept her eyes focused on me. She walked directly in front of me and stared deeply into my eyes as she placed her hands on my shoulders. As I watched her pupils dilate, signaling desire, she spoke at a barely audible whisper “I’m glad you came. Your pictures don’t do you justice.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her bedroom. “Do you partake?” she asked, gesturing to an impressive collection of glass apparatuses. “Absolutely,” I stated, my eyes taking stock of all the glassware. She plucked one off the shelf and proceeded to load a bowl of the medicine. She passed me the bong and I fired it up, deeply inhaling the potent purple flower. At this point, my gaze drifted to her desk and the impressive PC setup she had. “Do you play online?” I asked, not really interested in her answer, but trying not to let the smoke negate my speech capabilities. “Hmmm sometimes, do you want to play online?” she responded as she reached for the bong in my hands. “Ahh I’m not really a gamer, just never got into it,” I felt the conversation taking an unprecedented turn. As she took the bong over to the desk and debowled it, my eyes analyzed her body. The delicate lingerie cradled her breasts as she bent over the desk and broke up the medicine for a new bowl. Her long, pale legs were not dissimilar to alabaster and her fiery red hair danced tantalizingly across her shoulders. She stood, turned to me, and approached with more purple flower. I imbibed again, this time she stayed close to me and rubbed my thigh with her hands and smiled broadly as I exhaled in her face. “Do you have a problem with me broadcasting this to my viewers?” she asked, almost nonchalantly as if she was asking my opinion on the weed. I halfway choked/coughed and stammered “Your viewers? Broadcast?” She sensed my apprehension and began to explain “It’s my own site, people pay to view it. The IP address is secure and it can’t be viewed without an access code.” Now, I’ve engaged in my fair share of recordings, but never a live broadcast. “Can they see who I am?” I asked sheepishly. “Oh no! we will keep your face out of it. They will just see your equipment,” she stated, steadily rubbing my thigh and smiling expectantly. “I guess that’s ok then,” I reluctantly agreed, not wanting to abort the mission already this deep behind enemy lines. “Great! I’ll start the feed,” she squealed joyfully as she shot up and skipped to the computer. After a few deft keystrokes and a couple mouse-clicks, she looked back at me and smiled “We’re live!” I rose and set the bong on the side table, breathing methodically to ease the tightening of my chest. She rolled on these striped high socks and knelt at the end of the bed, gesturing with both hands for me to stand in front of her. “It’s time,” I thought to myself as I approached her and took my place inches from her smiling face. She slowly and seductively untied my drawstring and removed my shorts, then my underwear. “oooooh yum,” she exclaimed as she stared at my exposed meat. I stared hard at her, deliberately ignoring the chimes and alerts echoing from her viewers on the computer. She took me in her mouth and proceeded to give a Brazzers.com fellatio performance. Sloppy, wet, and nasty. This young woman had the “IT” factor and she knew it. The alerts came steadily, almost to the point of a continuous chime. She stopped, looked me in the eyes, and spit on my meat. “Are you ready to stretch this pussy out?” My goodness! This temptress was damn good and I was reveling in the moment. I nodded, solemnly, as she climbed onto the bed and laid back, rolling her purple thong off and lifting her legs above her head. “Go to work,” she whispered as I took one knee on the end of the bed and dipped into her box. She was glorious. All the prepubescent fantasies of digging out the freak next door took place. Some of what she said was so nasty that only God will hear it from me on my judgement day. Nevertheless, I wore her shit out. Had her tapping out and hollering uncle. In the heat of the moment, she reached up and placed a hand on my chest, stating “Let me finish you with my mouth.” She didn’t have to tell me twice. I pulled out and stepped back from the bed. She let her legs down and exhaled deeply before sliding off the bed and kneeling in front of me. “Let’s get closer to the camera for the money shot,” she said as she shimmied across the carpet on her knees, her pink pussy glistening with moisture. I stood closer to the camera, making sure my identity remained obscured. As she gobbled my meat, I noticed her gag several times. “Nothing to be alarmed about, she knew her limits,” I thought to myself. Almost as soon as I had formulated the thought, she quickly pulled me out of her mouth and she turned her head to the right, my left, and vomited. The putrid smell of beer, vodka, and stomach acid filled the room. “I’m so so sorry,” she stammered through tear eyes. “I just had a little to drink before to take the edge off.” Inside I was panicking and trying desperately to avoid stepping in the mess on the carpet, but on the exterior I remained placid as Lake Baikal. “No worries, these things happen,” I said, almost automatically. She grinned, grabbed a water bottle and rinsed her mouth out. As I struggled to comprehend what was taking place, she spoke up and removed all doubts. “The show must go on! You were close I could tell. Let me finish you off,” she said determinedly. I cannot lie, I liked her self-confidence. She inched closer to me and took me in her mouth again, this time with new purpose. She sucked my soul out of my urethra. When I finally did finish, she caught the nut in her mouth but didn’t swallow. She made sure to finish me off completely before stopping, a true gentlewoman. Then she crawled over to the camera and opened her mouth to show her viewers she had successfully collected the nut. Then she swallowed in a grand theatrical fashion and finished with an “Ahhhh,” as if she had just finished a refreshing Sprite. Then she stuck her tongue out and moved it around as if to show she had swallowed it all and wasn’t saving any for later. The entire time this was happening, I was standing just out of camera view and watching her, transfixed by the sickness she exhibited. She finished by blowing a kiss to the camera and ending the live feed. Jesus H Christ, what type of sin had I just engaged in? I blinked rapidly to return to reality and began to search for my shorts. She turned to me, smiling and laughing and said “Wasn’t that fun!” I smiled demurely and nodded, “That was the REAL deal.” She rose, pulled her purple thong back on, turning her back to me as she guided the string between her white ass cheeks. “Do you want to smoke more?” I hesitated, not exactly wanting to share a bong with this minx who had just combined vomit and semen in her mouth in the most graceful fashion possible. “I’m good right now, I’m still trying to feel my legs,” I stated, trying to deflect her request. She smiled at me and winked “That good, huh?” All I could do was chuckle and nod vigorously. After dressing, I began to inch towards the door, towards freedom and a return to the muggle world. She walked past me, playfully grabbing my crotch as she guided me to the door. She embraced me tightly and kissed me on the cheek before whispering “I love that pipe of yours,” and releasing her grip. She unlocked the door and opened it, stepping behind it to conceal her scantily clad body. I gave the internationally recognized head nod salutation and stepped out into the frosty night. I methodically climbed down the three flights of stairs and headed to my car. As I climbed inside and began driving, I recounted the experience in my mind. Did that qualify me as an amateur porn star? Should I contact the woman about compensation? I laughed to myself at the ridiculousness of the entire affair. Yet again, the Tinderverse did not disappoint. How else would I have known there was a full-fledged freak within my reach? I parked, entered my apartment, and hit the bong before showering. After exiting, I returned to the bong and opened my phone. Slide right, click the apps, slide them left, and I was face to face with Tinder again. I exhaled slowly as I sank back into the couch and began swiping right, indiscriminately. The sickness was not finished running its course...