Nadia taps my thigh with her free hand to get my attention. I look down at her head moving slowly up and down and up and down, but she’s pointing at the computer.

“My god.”

I blink and blink and blink, trying to clear my eyes before I realize that my glasses have fallen off of my face onto my chest. Once I put them back on — maybe a little askew — I see the picture Nadia liked.

“Charisse,” I read aloud, just as Nadia starts to fondle my balls. It takes me forever to read her profile. I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s to know?” Nadia gasps for air. “She’s cute.”

“She’s too young,” I pant, pulling the laptop closer.

Nadia slowly strokes my dick and squints at the screen.

I’m barely holding myself together.

Finally, she shakes her head. “Can you filter for age?” she asks and then heads back toward my dick.

“Wait,” I yell and then sigh toward the ceiling. “Fuck, wait.”

Nadia stops, and without the stimulation of her mouth and tongue and hands, I can finally think clearly. I take a few slow breaths, and then I make the most of it. I shift to the side and open the filters on the InfiniThree dating site. I quickly check all the filters that we’ve agreed upon — age range, geographic location, and whatever the fuck else.

Nadia has a death grip on my dick and her libido the entire time.

“Okay,” I finally gasp as our new list populates.

Nadia takes me back into her mouth, and that is how we spend our evening, fucking and sucking and coming while we swipe through our options of women we’d like to date.

Book One: Darren

first date

The last time I was on the market, early morning dates weren’t a thing, or maybe I just never went on any. From what I recall, dates used to look like power lunches between classes, drinks at a crowded bar — so it didn’t feel too intimate just in case it didn’t work out — and long dinners, but only after date three. All my memories of dating before I met my wife were full of darkening skies, sticky tabletops, and the crush of bodies.

But that’s what happens when you meet your wife at nineteen.

My brief dating life feels like a million years ago, and I’m tired even remembering it. The nervous energy, the hope, the empty wallet, the disappointment. When I met my wife, I thought I’d never have to date again. That’s at least part of the reason I feel completely out of sorts to be waiting in front of a coffee shop for a woman who hopefully looks like her profile picture, so I can recognize her. I wonder if she’ll think my corny jokes are funny in real life.