(This is a fantasy! Make sure that you negotiate scenes beforehand!)
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Summer already felt long, boring and hot. And it was only the beginning of June. I had arrived home from college for the summer a week ago and had already exhausted the activities I was looking forward to doing. I had slept an extravagant amount, and had taken a bath in the big tub in my parent's house, an amenity that had been lacking in my dorm. I was back in Nowhere, Montana, a medium size town that was not all together horrible. What made it unbearable this summer was that all of my hometown friends had found cool internships in Minneapolis, or Chicago, leaving me alone there. I had found a summer job at the stationery and arts supplies store in what passed as our town's "downtown." It paid minimum wage, and I only got around twenty hours a week there. But given that my expenses living at my parents' house were zilch, and that I had a full scholarship to my college, I was earning a very livable wage.
It was the night of June 2nd and I had my headphones in and was reading and eating cereal under the porch light when an old Mazda SUV pulled up in front of the house. It was dark on my street so I could see swarms of bugs illuminated by the car's headlights. Some punk band was blasting through the open windows, and I could see it was my brother and his usual group of friends. My brother was six years older than me, twenty-five now, but was also staying with my parents this year until he could save up enough money to get an apartment with his girlfriend. I recognized the guys in the SUV, there was Pete, Travis, and Jake, who was driving. To my dismay, I saw Pete was vaping, a habit which I was not a big fan of. I had always looked up to my brother and his friends, and I was surprised to realize that I was now old enough that I did not blindly idolize them.
My brother got out of the car and went into the house with a short greeting, grabbing the cereal box on his way in. The SUV continued idling on the street, the song changing to an old White Stripes tune I recognized. "Hey Sarry!" Travis waved from the window. I took one earbud out and waved back. Then he turned and said something to Jake. Pete and Travis laughed and I saw Jake hit Travis and say something that sounded like "dumbass."
"Hey," I responded, somewhat uncertain.
"How's college?" Yelled Pete. "They didn't kick you out, did they?"
"We're out for summer now," I yelled back, laughing a bit at the implication. There was more conversation in the car, then it drove away. I looked down to get back to my book. However, when I did, my cheeks heated. I didn't realize until then that I had been wearing my pajamas, clothes which I would never choose to wear in public. My stomach and some side-boob peaked out of my top, which was a really old shirt with a wolf on it, which I had cut into a crop top, then deemed it unsuitable to wear out of the house. I was only wearing boy-shorts down below, which fell somewhere between panties and boxers. I sweated a bit as I played the interaction back in my head. I wondered how much of me Jake could see from the drivers' seat.
Since I was in seventh grade I had found Jake incredibly attractive. Over the years I had seen him grow broad shoulders, and leaned muscled arms, which he slowly filled up with tattoos. He had an effortless style where he always looked comfortable, and somehow never wore any logos or recognizable brand. He was well-liked by everybody, never getting involved in the rumors and drama that plagued the town. The other girls had not failed to notice, but mostly he had kept to himself and to his group of guys. I had heard the popular girls express their frustration with how annoying and pretentious my brother's group of friends was. But I knew they were just hot for Jake and Travis and mad that the boys didn't go to the country dancing night at the Bowler, where most people our age went to hook up.
I also didn't go country dancing. I liked to say it was because I didn't like country music, which I didn't, but it was mainly because I was maddeningly timid around guys. I knew I would fuck up all of the steps if I got that close to a dude. I also was afraid I'd end up dancing with a guy who I wasn't attracted to, but that I'd still feel pressured into kissing him and letting him feel me up afterwards. Of course, I wasn't a virgin anymore, not after the encounter with the guy from my poli-sci course fall semester. But I had only been confident enough to get into bed with him because I knew deep down that I was out of his league. Every guy that I was actually attracted to made me so nervous I would get tongue tied, and forget everything interesting about myself.
My friends all told me that I had to check out dating apps, and that it would be a perfect way for me to establish a relationship via text before having to do the in-person thing. I was bored and desperate enough that I had made a dating profile the week before. It was something to do to pass the time, with all my friends gone. That night as I laid in bed on top of my covers, praying for a breeze to come through my window, I checked my matches. Honestly, I swiped "yes" on everyone, and then only weeded out the duds once we had already matched. I was not interested in the feeling of rejection, so knowing that these guys on my match list were into me already made them more desirable to me. I quickly weeded out everyone over thirty, the guy who worked at the gun range, my dad's intern, and the dudes with the most alarming photos. Then, going through the guys more slowly, I deleted all of the matches who seemed to lack confidence. I found it to be such a turn-off when they were hiding behind sunglasses or had pictures of their cars instead of their faces.
Frustrated and bored I absentmindedly started touching myself through my boy-shorts. I closed my eyes, thinking about the fantasy I had entertained earlier that day. A thirty-something man had come into the stationery store that day, looking to buy a gift for his wife. He was well-built, wearing a button up black shirt and black slacks. While I helped him I had been looking at his hands, thinking how they would feel on my breasts. After he left and the store was quiet I pictured what would have happened if he had forced himself on me, pushing me into the bathroom of the store, locking it and tearing off my blouse. I had pictured him bending me over the sink and fucking me from behind in front of the mirror. I had never been fucked from behind, but had seen it a lot in porn, and loved how animalistic it looked. That was the extent of the fantasy, but it was enough to make a spot of my wetness soak through the middle of my underwear.
My left hand continued working my clit, moving my fingers on it up and down at varying tempos. With my right hand I used my phone, rereading my dating bio for the twentieth time. Right now it said:
"Hi, my name is Sarry (pronounced sare-eee, not Sorry like the board game). I like archery, reading, French baking and action movies. I go to Jefferson College in Colorado studying English, with a minor in Sociology. Right now I am not looking for anything too serious. Let's get coffee and see how it goes."
With my heart beating insistently in my pussy, and feeling on the brink of an orgasm or two, I felt determined not to let my summer go by unremarkably. I erased the last bit about coffee, hit "enter" a couple times to add lines of space, then wrote, "looking for a Dom" with a black-heart emoji after it. I published my new bio, then sunk back into my fantasy of the older man. I imagined him putting his hand over my mouth and smacking my ass as he thrust into me. I wasn't sure at this point whether I would even resist him if this scenario actually went down. It was so long since I had had sex, and when I had done it, it was unsatisfying.
The idea of the man in the store being overcome with lust and having to take me then and there was electrifying. I was always turned on when other people wanted me. It was almost impossible for me to feel lust towards someone who wasn't interested, or was only marginally interested in me. I wanted so badly to be an object of desire.
I came really hard, thinking of large hands wrapping around my throat and being fucked over a sink. I fell asleep, forgetting about the change I made to me bio, and managing too to forget how goddamn long and hot summer was.
A couple days went by before I checked my dating app again. I went to work, skyped my friends and finished the book I was reading, which kept me busy enough. It was another stiflingly hot night when I checked it again. I had all of my windows open and a fan going, but I still couldn't sleep, despite it being one in the morning. I had my door closed so that I could lay on my bed in just my panties, a pink pair that managed to be both cute and comfy. To keep me cool I had a wet washcloth laying on my stomach, making little rivulets of tepid water roll down to soak my sheets and the top of my panties.
When I opened the app, holding the phone precariously over my face, I had a slew of new matches, and a ton of messages. Scrolling through them I noticed they were all dirtier than previous ones I had received. Most of them started like "hey babygirl," or even "hey slut." I was stunned, until I remembered the small change I had made to my profile. My heartbeat ratcheted into high gear and I felt utterly exposed. How many men had read my shameless request to be Dommed? I had never explored my submissive side, and the idea of doing it now, over a dating app, with a stranger, suddenly sounded more than stupid.
Then, my scrolling came to a screeching halt. I saw Jake's face in my matches. I think I audibly gasped. I was immediately so fucking embarrassed. I rolled over, throwing the washcloth on the ground and pressing my face into my pillow so I couldn't see or breath. The town was big enough that I could usually indiscriminately match men, and not know any of them or have them know me in real life. Maybe Jake had swiped right on me without realizing it, just like I had? Or maybe my profile picture didn't look like me? It was me all made-up at party, maybe that made me so out of context that he didn't realize it was his friend's sister he was swiping on? Then I noticed that he had sent me a message. I lay there for a long minute, my pulse pounding in my throat. I knew I would have to open the message eventually, so I figuratively ripped off the band-aid and clicked "open."
"Hey Sarry. Interesting bio you've got there. Want to talk more in person?" It read. I felt sweaty and dizzy, not sure if he was being sarcastic, and not sure whether that would make the situation better or worse. I quickly wrote back, trying hard to sound mature and casual.
"Hey, Jake. Sorry, we should definitely not be talking on here. My bad for accidentally matching you."
As soon as I'd sent it I saw the "..." cloud indicating that he was typing. So he was awake too, and I could live out my mortification in real time.
