This is a print version of story Poem of Mark – My True Story by MinxGirl from

Poem of Mark – My True Story

First and only meeting - January 2013

Flirting online is best to keep in mind,
Expectations can be a field of broken dreams.
It is best to be true,
Otherwise you will be screwed.

The outlook of the date was promising,
However as rain in summer it was disappointing.
With good build-up to the real thing,
It is best not to promise what cannot be delivered.

Promises of this, promises of that,
The end product was not as had been expected.
It was not anyone’s fault,
Perhaps the expectation was set too high from online.

The real thing started off well,
It involved walking, talking, and dining.
Most of the talk I had initiated,
Otherwise we would have been on mute.

No touching involved here as unusual as that,
PDA was strictly verboten.
Uncomfortable was the word used,
And thought of what the fuck flitted through not fleetingly.

Sweet though he was,
Not talkative he turned out to be,
Online persona truly differed to that of the real thing,
Unfortunate as was the way with online dating.

Did wonder if he was disappointed or nervous
With me as he arrived.
That could be self-esteem talking,
Always nudging and prodding at the back of the mind.

No matter, the date progressed,
Satisfactorily it did continue.
Time to check-in to the room,
Into the hotel that was badly in need of a renovation.

Two and half hours of sucking and fucking,
Satisfactory is an understatement.
He was good in bed, but one bad thing remained:
The mute button was on again.

Fucking my rabbit makes more noise,
Buzz and whir of the little machine.
Pressing of buttons that could and would,
Bring an orgasm in minutes.

Veering away from the path,
Turn around and bring back to the story.
His cock was thick and stocky,
Thickest I have ever seen.

He stretched me tightly with himself,
He made me orgasm a grand four times in one sitting,
Not figuratively speaking.
It was my turn to make him climax.

My mouth sucked him,
My eyes remain closed.
I could not hear any sound,
Wondered if man or doll in my mouth.

He sure throbbed,
So I knew man he was.
I pulled away from him to ask quickly,
Are you having fun?

He nodded and smiled,
I had to make sure.
The mute button was staying on,
Regrettably it will not be turned off.

He did warned me of his quietness,
But I had thought differently.
How was a girl to know if a man enjoyed himself or not
If nary a sound issued forth from his body.

It gives a whole new meaning to the words:
Guess work.
For guess work was what I had.
Literally speaking: in my hand and in my mouth.

He flipped me over on my hands and knees.
He slipped inside my wetness easily,
Stretch me snugly with his thick-set penis,
I reached in between my legs to play with his sacs.

Minutes later, my lower back felt his seed splashed on my skin.
His hands held my hips as he jerked his groin,
Emptied his hotness on my skin,
His cock rested on my ass.

To my consternation, after a hurried shower
Minutes later he was out the door,
Gone with a quick peck on my lips,
As if he could not get out fast enough.

He did call back to apologise,
By then it was too late to remove my disappointment.
Bittersweet ending for he was truly sweet-natured.
His name was Mark.

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