Covid19 2020 Banana_Girl

Derek leaned back in his creaky desk chair and spread his arms up above his head, yawning and closing his eyes. The familiar hourly soundcheck on the radio playing on the bookshelf behind him told him was 11AM, and he shook his head as another coronavirus update headlined the news bulletin. He opened up a browser page on his PC as the clipped female English voice informed him that another 327 deaths were reported yesterday in the UK. He sighed. So sad, so many poor families affected by the pandemic, not just here in Edinburgh, or Scotland, or even the wider UK, but across the globe.

The BBC News homepage continued to provide further distressing information. Like many in the UK, he'd been furloughed from his job, staying at home on 80% of his salary which, for him at least meant that without his usual commuting costs and the fact his local pub was closed, he wasn't negatively financially affected.

He glanced out of the window. It was a cold, grey May day, ominous clouds hanging low in the sky. He stood up to look out over the empty building sites of the Granton Docks. Just 6 weeks ago, the now deserted expanse of concrete had been busy with cranes and workers. New luxury apartments, a hotel and office blocks all due to be opened the following year, a development that would further gentrify the area. 12 floors up in the council high rise tenement building that he lived in, he wondered how long before mandatory notices would be served and his home for the last 10 years would be raised to the ground.

He shook his head, deciding that it was late enough in the day for a lager. Or, at least, not too early. He padded out into his narrow hallway and into the kitchen, taking a can of Tennants Lager from the fridge and opening it. A glance into the fridge told him he should really go out and stock up, but the thought of pulling on a face mask and standing in queues made him grumble under his breath as he made his way back to the lounge.

As he sat at his computer desk he wondered if it would be better to still be married than to be in lockdown alone. He quickly concluded that he was better off alone. He'd had four years to get used to it, though he did miss seeing his two sons, and his grandson.

He took a slug of lager from his can and moved his mouse, placing the cursor on the url bar. Three letters tapped out and the full address automatically appeared; a moment later the homepage of the 'dogging meets' website he regularly frequented opened up on his screen. It was an old fashioned looking site, no more than a step or two on from the original message board sites. Certainly no slick, fancy front end. It was very much a UK based site, and a small community at that. Limited functionality, basic profiles and a messaging service that worked liked an internal email as opposed to the more modern instant chat functions. There was something 'real' about it though that gave him hope.

As usual though, no messages. Not even any flirts, a rudimentary function that acted like a wave to another user. He clicked on 'online users' and again as usual, just two members on the list had (F) by their username. Half a dozen or so (M/F) users, then way more (M) accounts.

He took another sip from his can. Three years he'd been on this site. Quite how he'd found the site, he wasn't so sure. The idea of dogging intrigued him, although he was pretty sure it wasn't something he'd ever do. And anyway, the site had progressed as far as meets in other ways, such as erotic emails, phone sex and webcam fun.

He clicked on one of the (F) profiles, scrolling to the 'what are you into?' section. 'Dogging, Swinging, Straight Sex, Oral Sex, Threesomes.' Scrolling back to the top of the page, he looked at contact preferences. '(ages 20-50)' He sighed. Even if he tried to send her a message, the system would restrict it based on that preference. And anyway, it would be rare if he even got a reply.

He reclined in his chair, taking another sip of lager. If he opened his mailbox, he would see all the messages he'd received without having scroll down the page. A few brief chats, one that lead to an exchange of email addresses with a user that was into 'picture exchange.' She'd asked if he would send her a picture of him in ladies panties, and he'd given up on that one straight away.

He wasn't really sure why he bothered. He supposed it was on the off chance that a female member with Webcam Fun listed would turn out to be genuine, and not a cam girl, though in reality the cam girls had given up on this relic of a site long ago. Or maybe someone for phone sex, although he wasn't really sure if he'd enjoy that. Mind you, to at least try it would be nice. It also struck him that not once had he seen a user in Scotland specifically offering dogging meets in Scotland. There were quite a few in England that posted dates and locations for such encounters. Not that he didn't think it happened in Scotland, but the site was more populated by users south of the border.

He clicked on 'users online' and the screen refreshed. One more (F) account listed at the top of the page. 'milf_to_be_used (F), 38, Yorkshire' He recognised the little profile picture to the left on the name, huge boobs filling the box that was barely 1 centimetre squared on his screen. He already knew she wouldn't reply; he'd messaged her before only to be told he lived too far away. He wondered if he had lived closer, would something more have happened? Would she have asked to meet him? Would he have gone? He shook his head. Probably not, but the idea was at least nice.

He exhaled loudly, taking another gulp from his can. His usual routine was to logon at night, after work. Perhaps send a few hopeful messages before resigning to the fact it was a waste of time and then watching porn instead. He considered opening a porn video site, but decided it was too early in the day, and anyway, he didn't usually feel horny until night. Although with lockdown, he'd found himself browsing porn more frequently during the day.

He refreshed the page again, slightly surprised to see a few more (F) accounts appear, and one in particular caught his eye. Despite the profile picture to the left of the username being so small, the image of bright red lips around a banana, thin fingers holding it, the peel draping over them, made him sit forward. 'Banana_Girl, (F), 19, Edinburgh.' He clicked into her profile, eyes scanning over the information he already knew.

Profile Description: Horny Scottish girl, like older cock, slim build, tight pussy.

What kind of people do you want to meet?: Straight man

What are you into?: Dogging, Picture exchange, Straight Sex, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Threesomes.

Build: Slim

Height: 5'6"

Race: White

Smoker: No

Status: Single

Her description was shorter than most he'd read on there, though simple enough to make his cock twitch every time he read it. That she 'likes older cock' had prompted him to message her before, especially given she was located in the same city, a very rare thing indeed on this site for him. She hadn't replied though.

His eyes scanned to the right of the screen, where two thumbnails of the pictures she'd uploaded were. He'd seen them before of course, but clicked nonetheless. Larger thumbnails opened on the screen, the first of which he clicked on to enlarge. He took another sip of lager as he looked at it, or more specifically, the exposed right breast, top pulled up, right bra cup pushed down. A nice round breast, not particularly large, perhaps just a comfortable handful. The perfect round areola, soft nipple at its centre. His eyes cast down the picture to the bare midriff flesh, slender and soft looking, the hint of a gap around the waistband of what looked like jeans, but as the photo only showed to just below the fly button he couldn't really be sure. For some reason, he found himself staring at the slim fingers pushing down the bra cup; thumb holding up her t-shirt. No face, just a cheeky 'flash' of young tit. His cock twitched again.

He closed the picture and opened the second one. She'd only added this one a week or so ago, and he'd messaged her straight away, but again she hadn't responded. He relaxed back in his chair, sipping his lager as he stared at the picture. She was standing in this one, though with her back to the camera, hands placed on a white drawer unit, wearing black stockings with lace tops, black lace panties and a matching bra with a wide lace back strap. His eyes worked from top to bottom, taking in her chestnut coloured hair with a few lighter streaks through it, narrow shoulders and slender body. Down to those lace panties, cut high on her bum, accentuating firm, well defined buttocks, a clear gap at the upper part of her slender thighs and long legs clad in those sexy black stockings. He felt himself exhale a breath and his right hand slipped to his crotch, gently massaging his twitching cock.

'Best arse in Scotland.' That's what his second message to her had said. He groaned. No wonder she hadn't replied. He wished she'd post a photo that included her face, although to be fair, his own profile picture was only of him standing from the shoulders down. And anyway, a girl with a body like that? She'd hardly be interested in an overweight 53 year old. He removed his hand from his crotch and grabbed his can of lager, taking another large gulp. It was so rare to see another member on the site from Edinburgh, and although she'd ignored his messages, he still found himself looking at her profile frequently. What would it be like to have access to that body? So slender, those tight bum cheeks. His hand slipped back under his overhanging belly to his crotch again, squeezing the baggy denim around his semi hard cock. Oh what he'd give...

The shrill ring of his telephone made him snap out of his thoughts. He stood and walked over to the little table by his sofa, bending with a slight groan to answer it. Less than 15 seconds later he slammed the receiver down. "Fucking cold callers," he grunted, shaking his head as he returned to his computer desk. "The whole fucking country on lockdown and those bastards still calling." He took another sip of lager and refreshed his screen, noticing that the profile picture to the left of Banana_Girl had disappeared. It wasn't unusual for members to not use a profile picture, and he felt a pang of disappointment that she had chosen to remove hers.

Scrolling down his screen, he scanned the other female members that were online. One status, a not often used feature where a member could post a statement that showed alongside their name, caught his attention. 'Fuck this lockdown. So need a cock right now.' He shook his head and sighed. "Fuck this lockdown indeed," he muttered. He clicked on the profile, but it was pretty scant of information and didn't include any pictures. With another sigh, he clicked back to the online members page, and his eyes widened a little when he saw a profile picture next to Banana_Girl again. He leant forward, noticing no sign of a banana in this one, but clearly a pair of boobs on display. He quickly opened her profile page and enlarged the newly uploaded picture, muttering "Jesus Christ" as he looked at the picture.

She was facing the camera this time, but the photo was cut off just below her eyes, and the rest of her face was covered by a face mask. A face mask! He laughed loudly. How fitting! But his eyes quickly lowered to her naked breasts. She was wearing what looked like a summer dress, peeled down just below her boobs, arms crossed across her waist, holding the straps. He stared at those firm young breasts, noting they looked a touch bigger head on than in the other picture.

"Stunning tits" he murmured. "Hmmm...what would those be? B cup? Maybe a C?" He noted how they seemed to rest on the upper part of her dress that was peeled downwards, splaying out ever so slightly, those little nipples not quite pointing straight at him; more as if they were aimed at his shoulders. His hand instinctively returned to his crotch, rubbing a little harder than before. How long is the dress? He tried to work it out, the photo cutting off before it showed any of her legs. Perhaps to knee length, he mused, before casting his eyes back to the face mask, noting that chestnut hair draping over her left shoulder.

"Ha ha girl. Showing your tits but using a face mask to protect your identity...class!" He laughed so hard he started to cough, having to clear his throat with a mouthful of lager. Although he knew it was a waste of time, he clicked on 'Message' and started tapping on his keyboard.

Message Subject: Love the mask.

Message: Your best picture yet love. The mask really made me laugh. Have to say, your tits are incredible.

He clicked send, then sat back and stared at the picture again, lager can in his left hand, right hand massaging his cock through his jeans. "What would it be like to fuck a girl like you?" he murmured. Ha! What would it be like to fuck any girl? How long now? 3 years? He shook his head, remembering back to the woman he'd picked up in the pub that night. He'd been drinking heavily since his wife had left him, and the woman he'd slept with was certainly no looker. A wife herself, bored with her husband and choosing to have a drink in his local bar. It wasn't that women weren't welcome there, just...well, it wasn't the kind of bar a woman would like. Dark, dingy, the smell of stale lager and Derek, just turned 50 at the time, the youngest patron there.

He closed his eyes, recalling her tight leopard print dress and knee high boots, thick thighs and huge boobs. An hour of flirty chat, then she had leaned into him and said "so are we going to go back to your place for a shag?"

He chuckled softly, taking another slug of lager, the can nearly empty. He hadn't lasted long that night. He told himself it was when she demanded he spank her ass, her large somewhat flabby ass, that had taken him over the edge. That and it being nearly two years since he'd been inside a woman, given his wife had refused sex with him in the latter stages over their marriage. And he'd cum, his bare cock spurting inside her no more than three minutes after penetrating her. She'd been furious, calling him a 'stupid prick' and 'useless cunt' before dressing and storming out. At the time, he'd been hugely embarrassed, avoiding the pub for the following week in case she'd gone back there to tell them all what had happened. The embarrassment had turned to concern about not using protection, more from a health point of view than the chances she'd be pregnant. She was easily his age after all. Still, the medical he'd had to take a few months later when he started his new job confirmed all was okay. Well, apart from his excess weight, high cholesterol and above average alcohol consumption.

He shook his head to clear his mind and clicked on the link to return to the online users list. "What the...!" he exclaimed, noticing the Mailbox link had turned bold. He had a message!

Experience told him not to get excited. It could just be that weirdo guy asking if he wanted to see pictures of his wife on WhatsApp again. But he felt his heart rate quicken when his mailbox revealed a reply from Banana_Girl!

'Tx. Where in Edinburgh r u?'

He took a deep breath, draining the last of his lager from the can. 'Tx.' 'R U.' What is it with these young people not using proper words? Still, a reply, and asking where he lived. He took another deep breath. "Okay, dinnae be a fanny, Derek" he cautioned himself out loud. No point in lying. If she was from Edinburgh, she'd know the various parts of the city. And anyway, he couldn't be recognised from his profile picture, or username for that fact. Scots Delboy, a part reference to his favourite TV show and the shortened name for Derek used a lot in Scotland.

'Granton. What about you?' He re-read those few words half a dozen times before clicking send. On more than one occasion, he'd had one reply from someone, and then no more after his own reply. He tapped his desk, refreshing the screen at 10 second intervals, excitedly opening the reply which finally came a minute later.

'no far from there. you met any1 off here b4?'

No instead of not. That's very Scottish, or a typo. And those abbreviations, or whatever you call them. Lazy, or genuinely 19, he decided. He considered her question. Again, what point in lying?

'Sadly not. Not for the want of trying though! How about you?' Once more, he thought carefully about his reply. Keep finishing with a question. With any luck, that'll make her reply. He couldn't really understand why this was making his cock twitch again.

The reply came quicker this time, barely 30 seconds. 'Yeh...couple of times.'

He exhaled again. Couple of times? She's actually met people off this site? "Lucky bastards" he said out loud, shaking his head. Okay, how to reply? His fingers tapped on the keyboard, then he deleted. Then again, and deleting once more, finally settling on 'Wow! May I ask, was it dogging meets?' That seems a fair thing to ask, given the original intended purpose of the site. And also, maybe he'd now find out if these dogging meets actually happened nearby.

He stared at his screen, refreshing every so often, almost two minutes passing before his Mailbox link once again turned bold.

'Nah. Just individual meets. u do pic swaps?'

He felt his stomach flip. She's actually met people off here, he thought again, his hand sliding under his belly once more to rub his crotch. He wondered who, which lucky guys got to meet her? And where? And what did she do with them? He took another two deep breaths. Pic swaps? Only once and of course, she'd wanted him to send a pic of him dressed in woman's panties. He shook his head, hoping this wasn't what Banana_Girl was leading up to.

'Yes. Happy to swap pictures. Mind me asking what you got up to on your meets?' He hoped that was a question she was willing to answer.

He decided he needed another lager. Two before midday was not a normal occurrence, but this rare interaction was making his heart race a little. By the time he returned to his computer, she'd replied.

'just a bj and shagging...once in a car, other time in my flat. u got a pic of ur cock?'

"Bloody hell," he exhaled. Shagging was such a Scottish term. Most people would use the word fucking, but this just confirmed to him she was a local girl. A brief thought flashed through his head as he considered her question. Was it really a girl? He shook his head. This was bordering on the longest message conversation he'd ever had on here. He clicked on his own profile, and navigated to his pictures. He did have one of his cock on there, but not one that was set for public viewing. He stared at if for a few seconds, considering whether he should reply honestly this time.

The picture was taking using his mirror for reflection, his left hand holding his belly up, his 5.5 inch cock erect and pointing upwards at a 45 degree angle, only just really extending beyond the overhang of flabby stomach flesh. The flash had blocked out his topless upper body, although his face was not in the frame anyway, his legs covered by the same baggy jeans he was wearing now.

She'd met two guys from here already, for a blow jobs and sex. Would she really be impressed by his barely average sized cock and fat belly? He felt his stomach churn. If he said no, would she ask him take one? Could he find a fake picture that looked real? Should he just be honest and then resign to the fact it was to be another short lived interaction?

'Yes. I have a picture of my cock I could share,' he replied, feeling an impending gloom as to where this might lead, the feeling increasing when she replied almost immediately.

'can i see?'

He blinked when he saw a tiny thumbnail picture, detail unclear but clearly bare flesh, below her message. He quickly clicked it, and his eyes widened as it enlarged on his screen. It was a selfie, her hands together holding her phone towards what was obviously her mirror, the phone covering her face, although again, the top of her head cut off in the picture anyway. He instantly recognised the dress as being the same one in her topless face mask picture, although now she was sat on the ground, feet planted but knees raised and spread apart. He stared at the clear sight of her naked pussy, smooth hairless skin dark around her entrance. "Tight pussy," he exhaled, repeating her own words from her profile description. "Aye girl, that looks like tight fucking pussy!" He took another slug of lager, feeling his cock harden. Her bum cheeks seemed to rest softly on the laminate flooring, her slender, taught thighs providing a lovely frame for that pussy, lips so tightly placed together. And once again, he muttered "lucky bastards' in reference to the two men who had been granted the pleasure of penetrating her.