Magic Tinder by The Autocrat (Part 4)
Being a little late, he realized, was actually a power move. He had been, subconsciously, walking very fast—Bay Area fast, if you will, which, for those who know, is second only to New York City fast. He pulled up short, and took a deep breath. Instinctively, he started to second guess himself. He’d only had a minute in his apartment, and he could immediately tell that his clothes were a bit wrinkled. As he started to catalogue his flaws he caught himself and stopped. Magic—right. This was going to take some getting used to. Already, though, in the middle of his normal anxiety, John could feel a different sort of feeling building. Some might call it happiness, some might call it self-esteem, but John realized that really what it was, was silence—the silence of a man who was starting to quiet those anxious voices and believe in himself. Or in whatever the hell was happening to him. He wasn’t about to just stomp into the restaurant and alpha-male his way into Jennifer’s pants, but the thought seemed a bit less alien than it would have 48 hours ago.
Sitting on the park bench an hour ago, John had realized three things: one, that he fully believed in this whole thing, at least for the moment. Why not? Occam’s Razor said this was the most logical explanation; a guy offered him a magic Tinder , he took it, and then he had a magic Tinder . It made a certain amount of sense. Second, he had no idea if he was going to get any more than this first 48 hours. Who knew if the guy would even sell him this “magic ”, or how much he might charge, or if John could even find him. Or if he even existed. So, John set to work setting up as many dates as he could. He lined them up, two to a day, sometimes three, for the next few weeks. He lost track of how many; something on the order of 25 or 30. The hottest, or the most interesting. A barista with a tiny waist and ears full of metal. A tiny Swedish girl with a huge rack. A really tall Russian ballerina. Etc., etc. He wasn’t very discriminating; he didn’t have time. With every single one, he formed a mental wish for them to be eager, almost to the point of desperate but not to the point of being irritating.
And, third, even if the place didn’t exist, he’d be a fool not to at least try and find it. Being the bay area designer he was, his memory was pretty good and his sense of direction even better, so he ed exactly where the store was. Once he stood up off the bench, he had about 25 minutes to spare. He rented one of those scooters and set off to find it, half expecting to somehow fail, Twilight Zone style; the store would be gone, or be another store entirely, or be a portal to hell and a demon would eat his soul, etc., etc.
What he didn’t expect was that the store would just...be closed. Not “magically closed”, just the good old-fashioned kind. Normal closed. John pulled the card out and turned it around in his hand: there were no markings; no phone number, no name. There wasn’t even really a name on the storefront, not really; it just said “Curios”, and then there was a Closed sign. For a brief crazy moment John considered breaking in, but he shook his head. This day was so weird. He had a sudden sense of vertigo; he could picture himself, standing outside this nondescript antique store, trying to figure out if...if what? If magic was real? If the store would open tomorrow? This was such a weird mix of impossible and utterly mundane. He forced himself to focus. The store...was closed. That’s fine. Stores closed. He could come back tomorrow. He read the sign; they were open at 9am. That was fine. He could wait that long. The 48 hours would be up, it’s true, but maybe that was for the best.
John thought: how did this whole damn thing work? Would everything just...go back, right at 48 hours? Like in whatever that Disney movie with the fucking pumpkin was? Would Dawn go back to not giving a shit about him? What if he was actually with Jennifer when...uh...the magic expired? Would she be mad? Would she even know? John had no idea. But he knew two things: he was going to be at this store at 9am, and he only had a few minutes to go home and change.
Walking up to the restaurant (John had picked a nice Greek place), his phone buzzed in his pocket and John pulled it out. It was a notification from Dawn; she had already sent him a few little messages, but this one was a photo, and John opened it up. It was Dawn, smiling, in a flowing white knit dress that was very short, and nothing else, against a blank light blue background. She was just absolutely fucking gorgeous. There was a note at the bottom: “A promotional shot I took for a clothing designer today! I wanted you to see it because I wanted you to know that I was thinking about you the whole time. I was so wet I had to go change in the middle of the shoot and couldn’t sit still. Miss you already. xoxo”.
Dammit. Shit. John was suddenly a little bit afraid. He had wanted this for so long. This was, literally, his dream come true. Well, of course it was; he had designed it with his own thoughts, in a way. Maybe. If magic was real. Shit; this was all so confusing. It would be so devastating if this all just—poof—went away at the end of this 48 hours. But one thing at a time; he needed to focus on Jennifer. He was about to walk into a restaurant to meet the second-hottest woman he had ever even thought about dating, and he wanted to be fully present. He saved the photo to his photo roll, squared his shoulders, and walked in.
“I mean, I totally agree, I’ve never understood the logic behind having vertical scroll lists wrap around at the bottom.” Jennifer’s lips moved as the words rolled off her tongue, and John had to force himself to look up into her eyes. Her lips were exquisite—thin, but not too thin, a deep red, framing perfect white teeth. The face behind the lips was stunning, with high cheekbones, deep large hazel eyes, and flowing silky hair that came down to her middle back. John thought he had gotten used to bizarre juxtapositions, but talking about design work with a woman this fucking hot was literally making him shake his head. She must have been hell to have as a coworker for all the guys there, and maybe even some of the women. She was a workplace sexual harassment video come to life. Unlike Dawn, when he first walked into the restaurant, Jennifer had already beat him there and was seated at a table, facing away from him. He hadn’t really gotten to get a great look at her yet because she was sitting down, but what he saw so far he liked. He’d walked up behind her and said hi and she almost jumped out of her chair; she seemed on edge a little bit. She had kept asking him questions—about himself, about his work, where he lived, about his bicycles (even though it was obvious she knew nothing about cycling), and she kept, well, squirming slightly. She seemed to stare at him intently, except her eyes would wander, mostly about his face, but sometimes down to his chest. She was obviously intelligent, and holy fuck was she gorgeous. In fact, in person, she seemed even hotter than she had on the app, which made sense; unlike Dawn, her pictures weren’t professionally taken or airbrushed. And her sky blue dress, while tasteful, was actually a little bit ill-fitting and seemed to hang off her a bit oddly. But nothing could hide her face, which was easily a match for Dawn’s, if different: a bit less delicious Kansas supergirl, and a bit more Manhattan socialite. But, still: head-snappingly beautiful. And the low—but tasteful—cut of the dress showed off a top-notch set of breasts, arcing across elegant clavicles which were only slightly marred by having her sit just ever so slightly slumped. John found his mind wandering to what she looked like out of that dress. It had occurred to him on the way in that he might only have—John checked his watch—about 3 hours before the “magic app” effect wore off, and while John wasn’t normally a one-night-stand kind of guy, he had already decided that he was going to rush things. Worst case, he’d get a slap to the face and a busted date, but somehow John didn’t think so; the confidence of...whatever was happening had started to rub in just a little bit. Fucking a model for a long night helped. So John had decided they would go dancing. Dancing—clubbing, whatever you wanted to call it—wasn’t really John’s strong suit, but he wasn’t bad at it, and it seemed like the absolute best way to produce some PDA without just taking a girl directly home. It turned out that John hadn’t need to bother with anything quite so complicated—Jennifer was already primed and ready to go—but John didn’t know that, and well, discretion was the better part of valor.
As the date wore on (the food was excellent, especially the salad, and they had made it to dessert), John started to notice something...odd. At first, he couldn’t put his finger on it; Jennifer was leaning forward, gesturing a lot with her hands, which were long and elegant and finished with perfectly manicured nails. She wasn’t eating much, and she seemed oddly reluctant to answer too many questions about herself. She laughed, easily and often but with almost a slightly forced manner. Suddenly, it clicked: she was nervous as hell. She, a fucking 11 out of 10, was really nervous about being on a date with him. Dominoes started to fall in John’s mind; Jennifer really wanted this date to go well. John had experienced this behavior before, of course: it was the kind of thing that happened once in a while when a woman didn’t look anything like her profile and didn’t have a ton of options. This woman, by contrast, was so hot the entire restaurant was looking at her or pretending not to. She didn’t need a dating app; she could have showed up at any gym in town in shorts and a sports bra and lined up ten dates before she got to the treill. John ed: he had wished for this; he wanted Jennifer to be anxious to please him and, so, of course, she was. If he had been able to he would have slapped himself on the forehead. He didn’t have to impress this woman, or ask her to dance, or anything: she really wanted to impress him and, quite probably, the squirming was because she was horny as hell. On a whim, John interrupted her in the middle of a sentence about design tools, and asked about the last relationship she’d had. She suddenly started dumping about this guy, and how they had just broken up, and how she found out he had cheated on her because she was “too frigid”.
“Well”, he started, and then paused, and stared at her, intensely, while the room seemed to shrink and she hung on his next word. John barely even recognized where this newfound charisma and confidence had come from, but he liked it. He liked this version of himself. He let the moment linger, the pause drag out. Jennifer fidgeted. John spoke, slowly: “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Frigid.”
“God, no.” The words almost exploded out of her. “No, not at all. I love sex, and physicality. I...I think it’s a really important part of any relationship and it gives an opportunity for intimacy between two people who care about each other and...”
John cut her off, brusquely. “Jennifer”. She looked at him. He stared into her eyes. She looked down. “Did you ever...let him know that? Guys don’t read minds, you know”. God, this felt good, to take the upper hand like this in a conversation. “I mean, you’re incredibly gorgeous”—Jennifer blushed—“but some guys need a little encouragement, you know? Just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you can take it for granted.”
“Oh. OK, yeah. I mean, yeah, yeah, that makes sense”.
John suddenly realized what was happening. This woman had never been rejected or cheated on in her life, and finding out about her boyfriend had been an existential moment. Maybe she was worried she wasn’t as hot as she used to be; maybe she was worried she wasn’t sexy, but whatever it was, her self-esteem was low and she was horny and eager to prove to herself that she was desirable and desired, and definitely not frigid. This woman, who literally could have been an actress on looks alone, was eager to prove herself to him. John cocked his head to the side. The original plan still worked best. “Would you like to go dancing?”
On the way to the dance club, the two of them made out in the back of the Uber. Much like Dawn, there was this moment where Jennifer radiated heat in the back of the car, and so he kissed her, but from then on, it was all her, running her hands all over him, twisting her head back and forth, pulling on his lips with her teeth, grabbing his leg. Dawn had been eager, and really turned on, but Jennifer was desperate, inflamed, eager not only physically but mentally. He had a sudden feeling that if he asked her to strip right there in the car she might have done it. Her dress pulled up her legs and John got a quick glance of black silk panties and absolutely perfect tanned thighs. Just then a text came in from Dawn, and the name appeared on the lock screen; John glanced at it and then put the phone in his pocket, and this seemed to drive Jennifer even more crazy; she started running her hands through his hair. They pulled up to the club and got out, and she never took her eyes off of him. As she got out of the car, John got a little better look at her body; she was about 5’10, 3 inches shorter than him, and much like Dawn, essentially perfect; a tiny waist, elegant calves, and a little bit of muscle on her arms. All the men standing in line at the club stared at her, at both of them, really, this mismatched set; John wasn’t a bad-looking guy but this woman was obviously out of his league and just as obviously desperate to please, running a hand up and down his arm, staring at him intensely with bedroom eyes. She’d already told him this was one of her favorite clubs, and she went right up to the bouncer. He saw her coming with a smile of recognition, and she stood up on her heels and whispered something in his ear, and he nodded and opened the rope for the two of them, skipping the line. She pulled his hand into the dark club, and before his eyes could even adjust they went up a set of stairs that he hadn’t ever seen; there were apparently VIP rooms on the second floor. Jennifer started to open the first one, but it was occupied, and she quickly shut the door and pulled him into the second one. Inside, there was a small TV for Karaoke, and Jennifer turned it on, suddenly acting like a woman with a plan. “Sit down”, she said, and waved at the sofa. John sat. “I’ll make us a drink, what do you like?” “Old fashioned, bourbon”, John said, and Jennifer nodded in approval. She mixed the drinks, staring at him. He leaned his arms back on the sofa and spread his legs slowly, enjoying watching her move, legs swishing left and right. She strode over, swinging her hair, and her breasts bounced lightly inside the top of the dress. She crouched down and placed the drinks on a tiny table within reach. The TV was playing EDM music, and John suddenly realized she had turned it on so nobody could hear what was happening inside. She stared at him, and he matched her gaze, as she stood only 1 or 2 feet away. Slowly, she reached down to the middle of the dress, and pulled it over her head, shaking out her hair. John’s breath caught. Holy shit. Dawn was amazing, but this woman might, honestly, have her beat. She was ever so slightly more muscular than Dawn, but just as slender; less model, and more ballerina. She wore only a strapless bra, which was desperately trying to hold in D cup breasts, and small black silk panties. Her thighs were small but well muscled, with a visible gap, and her ass looked vacuum packed. John suddenly felt bad for the ex-boyfriend, whoever he was; who the hell would cheat on a chick this hot? John steeled himself and took a deep breath. Jennifer was staring at him, intensely. She walked forward slowly, and put one knee up on the sofa and then the other, straddling his legs and sliding slowly forward; her pussy radiated heat and he could feel her wetness even through his pants. She started unbuttoning his dress shirt, undoing the first with her fingers, then bending down, sliding her hands over his shoulders and taking the second button in her teeth. She was starting to actually grind on his lap. Old habits die hard, and John was still a bit nervous, but as she started to move slowly, engaging her abs to lift and lower her pelvis, he started to grow hard, and also confident. As she leaned down to work on the third button, he put his hand out and set it on her chest, right in between those glorious breasts. Her breath was heaving in and out. “Stop”, he said, and she looked at him, horny and maybe a little nervous. He reached down, and slowly traced her pussy with his index finger. He stared into her eyes. “Are you horny?” She bit her lip and nodded. He reached the top and pushed on her clit through the panties. “How horny are you?”
“Jesus Christ”, she hissed. “So fucking horny. Please, baby, please, god, you’re so hot and it’s been so long.” “How long has it been?", he asked. She was whimpering slightly now, grinding back and forth. “O-only five weeks, but we used to have sex every day and I didn’t know I would miss it so much and oh fuck I was afraid to get on the apps and maybe I was too old but my friend said this was the way to go and then you showed up and oh christ you’re so fucking hot and oh baby I neeeeeeed you.” The words were spilling out of her, nervous and short, as he tickled her through the panties. John reached up and lightly grabbed her neck. He moved in to kiss her, threw his arms around her and then rolled her onto her back on the sofa, her legs spread. He stood up, and she reached out to him, but he stared her down. He started slowly taking off his clothes, and she stared at him, panting and squirming lightly. She reached a finger down into her panties and slowly started to move it back and forth. John pulled off his shirt and she moaned, deeply. She reached behind her back and unclipped her bra and her breasts emerged; even in the dimly lit room John could see this woman was a world-class beauty. Every inch of skin was evenly and cleanly tan and firm, and currently writhing lightly back and forth. John unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off one leg at a time. Then he knelt down in front of her, wearing only his boxers, and pushing the panties to the side, he leaned in with his tongue and started slowly licking. Her hands flew to the back of his head and she started writhing even harder. “Oh shit. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh god, oh fuck. Holy crap. Umm. Mmm. Huh, huh, huh.” She squirmed against the couch, throwing her head back, exposing her long neck. John started kis her flat stomach and stuck a finger inside her, looking for her g-spot. One of the advantages of not being a hot asshole is that John was honestly pretty good at this, and Jennifer was currently very appreciative. She stared at him with an expression that almost looked like love, then, as he went back down with his tongue but kept the finger inside her, she closed her eyes and started moaning again. “Oh god, please, oh yes, oh my god, oh shit, oh god, you’re so hot, holy shit, pleeeeeease, oh my god, oh yeah, oh just like that baby, yeah, oh yeah, oh baby, just like that, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, oh please don’t stop, oh please oh please oh pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!!” she clamped her thighs around his head and went rigid, running her hands through her hair, and he never stopped, licking her all throughout the orgasm as she came and came, squirming down off the back of the sofa, letting one leg drape down to the floor, then finally went limp. He climbed up onto the sofa and sat at the end. As she recovered her breath she pushed herself up and then draped herself down along the length of his body, warmth radiating through every inch of her skin. His hands went behind her and latched onto her ass. She bit on his lower lip and started to writhe back and forth. “Mmm god”, she said. “I want you so bad. That was so good. Shit. God. I want you inside me, and on top of me, and under me. God, I want to please you. What do you want? What do you like? I’ll do anything”. She reached down and pulled off her panties, never taking her eyes off him. John matched her stare. “We’ll get to all that,” he said, “but first,” his eyes twinkled, “we fuck”.
And fuck they did. She took him every way he wanted. First she straddled him, lowering her wet pussy over his hard cock. She was so fucking tight, and warm, and maybe more muscular than Dawn, and—if such a thing could be said—even better at sex. Sex with Dawn had been amazing because Dawn was perfect; sex with Jennifer was amazing because Jennifer embodied sex; she gave herself over to it, and was good at it, and it showed. She was a sex machine, and every dial was on maximum. She twisted, and pulled with inner muscles, and then relaxed and sat back down, and pulled up. She stared in his eyes, and then closed them and threw her head back, and threw her hair around. “Uh, shit, uh, oh fuck, you’re the best, jesus, uh, uh, uh, ohhhh, uh, ah, ah, ah, almost there, oh shit, god, fuck, huh, huh, hmm, hmm, fuck, ah! There! oh fuck please don’t stop! fuck me! fuck me!” At one point she rolled over onto her front and silently looked back at him, still squirming, so he took her from behind and above; she looked back over her shoulder, hair flying every which way. John couldn’t believe nobody had come in to check what was going on; Jennifer was obviously trying to be quiet but she grunted and moaned and every now and then a cute little yelp would come out. She had come at least three times, clenching and writhing, squeezing her abs and flailing her hands, and each time she seemed even more turned on.
Forty-five minutes later, John lay on his back with Jennifer on top, still breathing in and out and idly playing with his chest hair while one of her legs lay on top of his and her pussy pushed into his thigh. She was still very wet, and very, very hot. Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. “Hey! Hey! Jennifer, are you still in there!” Jennifer jumped off the couch, and so did John, both of them grabbing at clothes in a flurry. “I can’t cover for you anymore, babe, people wanna use this room; you got 5 minutes.” The two of them threw on clothes; hers took less time and while John fumbled with buttons and zippers she started cleaning up the bottles and glasses. “Sorry, sorry”, she started, “I didn’t realize we’d be in here so long, I thought we’d just have a quickie and go dance.” John walked right up to her while her back was turned. “I didn’t think I’d get so...” she trailed off as she turned and realized that John was standing right behind her. She blushed and looked down. “So what?” said John, and reached out and caressed her neck. Jennifer started breathing deeper. She closed her eyes. “So... so conquered. So fucking destroyed. God, I must have come a hundred times and I still want you. I just...I feel like I wasted so much time!”
“So much time...with your ex?” Jennifer nodded. “Hmm, and why is that, do you think?” John reached out and laid his hand on her thigh and slowly moved it up inside the dress. “I..I...unh...because...he was an ass?” John chuckled. “Well, yes, obviously, but it’s more than that, don’t you think?” John slid his hand over until he could play with her pussy, and Jennifer doubled over slightly. “I...I don’t know what you mean, what oh god that feels so good.”
John leaned in to her ear. “I think...I think he just didn’t realize that you’re...a slut.” Jennifer doubled over even more. John punctuated the last word by pushing his finger into her pussy. “Oh god, oh god, yes, fuck, yes, you’re right, god, I’m a slut, I’m your slut, oh god, please.” “You’re here, and you know they’re about to come in and find us, me with my hand in your pussy, and you don’t even care as long as I bring you off, do you?” “Unh, unh, god, no, jesus, fuck, you’re right, he always...fuck...forget that guy...just...oh god...fuck me, please, oh, ah”. John pulled his hand out of her pussy and she gasped at the removal. “Later, slut, in the comfort of your house, where we can talk about the rules.” John smiled. Jennifer tried to compose herself but shifted back and forth from foot to foot. “Rules?” “Hmm, yes. You don’t think you get to be a slut without rules? I promise, you’ll like them. But first, let’s go dance.”
Later, around 1 am, the two of them sat on bar stools, nursing Manhattans—she’d bought them. They’d spent at least an hour grinding out on the dance floor. At least four guys had all come up to dance with her and she shut them all down, staring directly at John. The fourth one she’d sent packing with a “fuck you, I’m here with my boyfriend, fucker”. As they sat, she was still staring at him, like some kind of lovestruck teenager, and touching him with every other word. She ran her hand down to his arm and lightly ran her fingers over...his watch. John blinked, dumbstruck. He hadn’t even noticed; the deadline had ed. The deadline had ed! John looked around; nothing seemed to be all that different. He excused himself to go to the bathroom, and pulled out his phone. He’d missed another message from Dawn: “going to sleep. well, in a sec. first i have to let off some John steam”, then there was a peach emoji and a heart. That message, too, had come after the 48 hours had ed. John exhaled; he hadn’t even realized it, but deep inside somewhere he’d still had some tension hiding, and like turning off white noise, it suddenly released. He opened the Magic Tinder app; the connection wasn’t good in here (I guess magic still needed internet? he asked himself) but after the spinning wheel disappeared a message popped up: “The trile has expired; click here to buy”. Except there wasn’t a button to buy. Well, that was a problem for future John; present John had a submissive hottie lined up at the bar ready to go. Reflexively checking his hair and teeth, he returned to the bar. Two men were standing around Jennifer, but she’d saved the seat for him; with the confidence borne of his situation he could tell that she was trying her best to get them to fuck all the way off. Jesus, how many times he’d been one of those guys, cluelessly hitting on some girl whose boyfriend was in the bathroom, his desperation blinding him to the fact that she was zero percent interested. Well, not any more. He strode right up to her, cut between them, and grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. She moaned into his mouth, and the two of them backed off. He whispered in her ear: “It’s time to go, slut”.