A Date with a Racecar Driver

A while back I met a guy out, we exchanged numbers, and went on a couple of lunch boating dates. He was about 10 years older, had grown kids, used to drive racecars, and seemed to have his shit together.

The first time Racecar tried to kiss me, it was unexpected, which is probably why it made it awkward. I think it was the timing, because I was still getting to know him and wasn’t at that point of wanting to kiss him. At the time I thought he was moving too fast, and I still had my reservations about him.

Several dates later, I decided I liked Racecar enough to continue seeing him, and eventually I let him kiss me, and over time had sex. It was okay, and thankfully he didn’t act like he was on the race track. His racecar was a nice size, but due to his lifestyle and age, he couldn’t keep it running. Very frustrating when you’re in the moment, but it is what it is. Another thing I noticed is he definitely could not keep his motor running when I was on top. That’s a huge deal, probably some mommy issues.

Even worse, while Racecar was trying to keep his racecar in me, he was talking dirty, saying things over and over: “Look at that tight little pussy! Give me that tight little pussy! I love that tight little pussy!” A little awkward, but I figured it was the first time, so give it another chance.

Second time, same story.

Third time, same story.

Racecar kept repeating the “TLP” phrase, and I felt like I was in the movie Groundhog’s Day. I actually busted out laughing, because I felt it was so ridiculous and definitely did nothing for me; in fact, it distracted me from the moment. I asked him why he said that every single time, over and over. He claimed it helped him to concentrate reaching orgasm. Mmmkay.

Then I began to find out some things. I thought his social drinking was normal, because after one or two drinks he seemed pretty tipsy… until he revealed that he takes pain meds daily. That explained that. It also probably explained why his racecar didn’t run so well. He actually reminded me a little bit of a friend that had a drinking problem that passed away a couple of years ago, so I really started to open my eyes at that point.

On our last date, Racecar took me for a ride in his prized pristine fast car. We were in a residential area where the speed is about 30 mph… and he decided that it was okay with me as his passenger to double the speed. I pretty much freaked out, because there was a ditch on my side, and all it would take is one person to pull out on one of those side streets for my life to either be gone or be completely changed forever. Then he proceeded to pull out onto the main highway fish tailing and squealing tires, leaving marks in the road. He thought he was being cool. I thought he was being a selfish, thoughtless asshole.

At that point I realized that this “relationship” was going nowhere and he was more about pleasing himself than pleasing me, and I decided none of that was going to work for me. I haven’t seen him since, but I suspect that I will eventually run into him in my small little town that I’m beginning to dread.

3 thoughts on “A Date with a Racecar Driver

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