#3112: Filthy Words
Original photo: @vassilispitoulisphotography
After a difficult divorce, Gemima returns to the dating scene determined to experience everything she missed in an unfulfilling marriage. One promising connection turns into an intense erotic awakening that leaves her craving far more than she expected.
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Transcript
To be honest, I didn’t expect anything when I created a profile on the dating app. When I did it, I was a bit buzzed and sitting alone in my dark bedroom, thinking about the years I wasted with a man who didn’t appreciate me, who never brought me flowers, and who barely made me cum. When we got married, I thought that was normal, something everyone experienced, but as the years went by, I realized that even if it was normal and something many couples went through, I didn’t want it to be my norm. That was why I filed for divorce and moved out to find my own way in life. If only I had known just how difficult that might be.
I wasn’t used to being alone. I had no idea how to fill my time, and worst of all, I felt desperate to have someone at my side, on the other side of the bed. I hadn’t realized how much I needed physical comfort until I went without it for long enough. It was in that moment of desperation that I joined the app and swiped on a few men who seemed decent and attractive. Of course, I didn’t expect anything in return. I’d heard from my single girlfriends how terrible the dating scene was at our age, so I managed my expectations.
The photo I chose as my main profile picture was taken during a vacation. I was standing in front of a palm tree, wearing a yellow dress that made my dark skin glow warmly, my coiled hair falling over my shoulders. I showed a bit of cleavage, and the dress sat tightly against the curve of my hips, so the first few messages I received were strictly sexual. Those messages made it seem as if a woman freshly out of marriage couldn’t want anything more than sex without strings attached, but I was different. I wanted more. I knew I deserved romance, nice dates, and at least a compliment before a proposition, but those men didn’t seem to understand that. I was desperate and close to deleting the app when a nice, normal message finally appeared. I took one look at it and decided to give the guy a chance.
He looked handsome in his profile pictures, dressed in a suit, his skin a shade darker than mine, his sharp jaw and bright smile standing out immediately. His name was Sam—short and simple. His messages made me feel like he genuinely wanted to get to know me, and I continued chatting with him, feeling as though I was stepping into uncharted territory. It had been so long since I dated or got close to someone new that everything felt unfamiliar, almost like being back in school again. He didn’t rush things, and that was how I knew he was a decent man.
Maybe that was why, not long after each message from Sam, I felt a flutter in my stomach and a smile spreading across my face as I read his words. When I noticed my reaction, I tried to stop myself, to calm down and give myself a moment to breathe, knowing that excitement like this could lead to disappointment. But I couldn’t control how I felt. I knew that all those gentle, tender emotions might end in pain, but I didn’t care. Not that I could do anything about it.
After two weeks of getting to know each other, Sam invited me on a date. He chose the place himself, and when I looked it up, I saw a decent restaurant, fitting for a serious first date. I agreed, feeling both excited and terrified. I wanted to see him, touch him, look at him, and find out whether our conversation would flow just as easily in person. At the same time, I feared things could go horribly wrong and leave my expectations shattered. Either way, there was only one way to find out.
On the evening of our date, I made sure to look nice. I put on a white, fitted dress I hadn’t worn in a long time. It offered enough coverage to appear modest while still hugging my figure beautifully. My hands trembled slightly as I applied makeup and styled my hair. I never expected to feel excited about meeting another man after my divorce, yet there I was, smiling at my reflection, giddy and ready.
I arrived on time, afraid that if I were late, he might leave. I also didn’t want to sit alone waiting for him, but my fear proved unfounded. When I gave the host Sam’s name, I was told he was already waiting. As I walked through the restaurant, our eyes met. I wondered what he thought of me now that he saw me in person while I appraised him as well. He was dressed for the occasion, his suit fitting him perfectly. He had the same smile as in his photos and the same kind eyes, and when I reached the table, he stood and pulled out a chair for me—a good sign in my book.
The first few minutes were filled with awkward moments as we studied the menu and settled into each other’s presence. I accidentally brushed his leg under the table and laughed nervously. Once we ordered and set the menus aside, we finally had a chance to look at each other properly. Sam complimented my appearance, expressing appreciation for the effort I’d made. His words made me blush deeply, and I returned the compliment, noticing how well he cleaned up.
After that, conversation flowed much more smoothly. It felt just like our chats online, and I enjoyed it immensely. Sam was open and kind, and he knew how to make me feel good and special. Slowly, warmth spread low in my stomach. He knew how to make my heart beat faster, and despite all my fears, I was enjoying every second of it. If I were honest, I wanted him closer.
Our evening ended far too soon. Between food and drinks, time slipped away without me noticing, and I was disappointed that we couldn’t stay longer. I wanted more. Part of me hoped Sam would invite me to his place, even if it felt too forward. He didn’t, and I wasn’t sure whether that was because he was a gentleman or because he didn’t want to offend me. Either way, I knew what I wanted, even if I was too afraid to say it out loud.
Sam walked me to the cab and opened the door for me. His politeness almost frustrated me because it gave me no clear signal to act. Standing there, I realized that if I got into the cab and went home instead of finding out how the night could end, I would regret it deeply. That realization made me change my mind.
I pulled him closer and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft against mine, and when his hands settled on the small of my back, my whole body came alive with heat. I wanted him, and I knew nothing should stop me from pursuing that pleasure.
Once we pulled apart, I made it clear I wanted to go with him. He searched my eyes to be sure, and when I confirmed it, he smiled and kissed me again before we got into the cab together. He gave the driver his address, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so excited to go anywhere.
We barely spoke on the ride, and silence followed us into his place. The moment we stepped inside, I kissed him again, harder and more passionately. He responded just as eagerly, his hands roaming my back. It had been a long time since I’d felt this aroused, and all I wanted was to leave his place fully satisfied.
He took my wrist and led me to his bedroom. When he turned on the light, it felt brighter than I expected, and I felt a brief flash of shyness. His gaze, however, was anything but hesitant. He wanted to see me completely, and the thought alone was enough to make my knees weak.
He stepped close again, his lips on my neck as his hands slid my dress upward, revealing my body inch by inch. He made it clear how much he wanted me there, how much he wanted to see me naked. I laughed breathlessly as he pulled my dress off completely. When he stepped back to look at me in just my underwear, I felt exposed, but his attention quickly eased my nerves.
I sat on his bed as he undressed, watching him reveal a toned, muscular body that only fueled my desire. He knelt in front of me and removed my bra, revealing my breasts. His hands and mouth made me shudder, his attention intense and deliberate. I tangled my fingers in his hair, my head falling back as pleasure spread.
When his hands slipped lower, he found me already wet and aching. His touch grew more confident, building pressure until my body trembled. No one had ever spoken to me or touched me like that before, and it unlocked something inside me I hadn’t known was there.
By the time he finally filled me, I was already undone. Every movement, every sound, every look made me feel wanted and cherished. Pleasure rolled through me in waves I couldn’t control, leaving me breathless and weak.
When it was over, I lay there stunned by how deeply it affected me. This wasn’t just sex—it was rediscovery. And as I caught my breath, I knew with absolute certainty that I would never be satisfied with less again.