The Bachelor Files: Episode 6

One Night on After Dark

As I said above, my name is Tom. I live alone in a two-bed flat in Leeds that still smells faintly of the vanilla candle my ex used to burn every Sunday. The marriage had been dead for years before she finally said the words. No screaming, no drama, it was just a quiet “I’m done” over breakfast one morning. She kept the house. I got the flat, the car, and a sex drive that felt like it had been on life support for a decade.

I spent the first year after the split trying to be the “good guy” I’d go to the gym, see mates, watch Netflix and the occasional awkward Tinder date that ended with polite kisses and zero follow-up. Then one night, half-drunk on supermarket whiskey, I downloaded After Dark.

Downloading the App – The First Step into the Night

The app was built for people like me: no relationship badges, no “looking for something real” bios, just straight-up intent. You state what you want, upload a photo (face optional), and the algorithm matches you with people who want the same thing at the same time. No games. No small talk unless you both decide to. Just bodies, consent, and release.

I set my profile simple:

“Divorced. Fit. 39. One night only. No strings. Make it worth it.”

Photo: shirtless in gym lighting, face half-turned, enough to show I wasn’t hiding, but not enough to be recognised at the supermarket.

First week was quiet. A few matches, a few chats that fizzled. Then came Claire.

Her profile pic was cropped just below the eyes, showing full red lips, black lace bodysuit, caption:

“37. Recently single. Horny. One night. No romance. No staying over.”

Bio: “Divorced. Done pretending. I want to be fucked like I’m the only thing that matters tonight.”

The Match – Messages That Set the Fire

Message thread opened at 19:47.

Claire: That gym pic is doing things to me. You free tonight?

Me: Yeah. You?

Claire: My place. 21:30. Bring condoms. Don’t be late. Don’t be gentle.

I showered, shaved, trimmed everything below the belt, put on dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Heart hammering like I was nineteen again. Drove across town in silence, sat nav off, just the thump of adrenaline in my ears.

Arrival at Her Door – The Point of No Return

She lived in a modern block near the Arena with clean lines, a concierge, lift that smelled faintly of expensive perfume. Floor 7. Door 712. I knocked once.

She opened the door barefoot, wearing the black lace bodysuit from her photo with sheer panels over her nipples, high-cut legs, hair loose and dark. No hello. She grabbed my shirt collar, pulled me inside, slammed the door with her foot, and kissed me like she’d been starving for it.

Her mouth was hot, tongue aggressive, teeth nipping my bottom lip. My hands went straight to her arse; it felt firm, full, perfect handfuls. She moaned into my mouth when I squeezed, grinding her hips against the growing bulge in my jeans.

Hallway Explosion – First Release Against the Wall

“Bedroom,” she breathed, already tugging my shirt over my head.

We didn’t make it.

Halfway down the hallway, she dropped to her knees on the hardwood floor, fingers ripping my belt open. Zip down. Cock out. She wrapped her hand around me, stroking once, twice, eyes locked on mine.

“Fuck, you’re thick,” she whispered, almost reverent.

Then her mouth closed over me.

Hot. Wet. Deep. She took me to the back of her throat on the first go, gagging slightly, eyes watering, but didn’t stop. Tongue flat under the shaft, lips tight, head bobbing fast. I groaned, hand in her hair, guiding her, not forcing, just encouraging. Saliva dripped down her chin; she looked up at me, mascara smudging, eyes blazing.

I pulled her up after a minute because any longer and I’d have finished too soon. Spun her around, bent her over the hallway console table. The mirror in front reflected everything: her flushed face, my hand yanking the crotch of her bodysuit aside, my cock rubbing against her soaked entrance.

“You’re dripping,” I growled.

“Been wet since your message,” she panted. “Fuck me. Now.”

I thrust in one hard stroke. She cried out, palms slapping the table, back arching. Tight. Hot. Perfect. I gripped her hips, pounded deep, long, punishing strokes that made her breasts bounce free from the lace. She pushed back to meet every thrust, moaning my name as if she’d memorised it.

“Harder,” she begged.

I gave it to her. Skin slapped skin. The table rattled against the wall. I reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast circles. She came in under a minute, her walls clenching, thighs shaking, a long, broken moan ripping out of her throat.

I didn’t stop. Kept fucking her through it, drawing out every tremor until she was whimpering, oversensitive.

Bedroom Domination – Round Two on the Bed

“Bedroom,” I said, voice rough.

She nodded, legs unsteady. We stumbled down the hall, shedding the rest of our clothes. Her bodysuit hit the floor. My jeans followed. Condom from my pocket, and I watched as she tore the wrapper with her teeth, rolled it on me with practised fingers.

The bedroom was dark except for a bedside lamp. King-size bed, white sheets already turned down. She pushed me onto my back, straddled me.

“My turn.”

She sank down slowly, inch by inch, eyes rolling back as she took me fully. Then she rode me hard, fast, hips rolling in tight circles. Breasts bouncing. Hands on my chest for leverage. I gripped her arse, spreading her, watching myself disappear inside her over and over.

She leaned forward, nipples brushing my chest, kissing me deep while she ground down. I thrust up to meet her, hitting that spot that made her gasp every time.

“Fuck – right there – don’t stop-”

I didn’t. I flipped her onto her back, hooked her legs over my shoulders, and folded her in half. Deep. Deeper. She clawed my back, nails leaving red lines. Came again this time loud, body convulsing, pussy pulsing around me.

I pulled out and flipped her onto all fours. Re-entered from behind. One hand in her hair, pulling her head back gently. The other rubbing her clit. She pushed back, meeting every thrust, begging for more.

“Come inside me,” she panted. “I’m on the pill. I want to feel it.”

I lost it then. Thrust hard, fast, deep, groaning her name as I came, filling the condom, hips jerking. She came with me again, milking every pulse.

Shower Interlude – Slow Build Under the Water

We collapsed. Breathing ragged. Bodies are wet with sweat. She curled into my side, head on my chest, leg thrown over mine.

“Jesus,” she whispered after a minute. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I said. Still catching my breath.

We lay there a while. No awkward small talk. Just skin on skin. Eventually, she traced a finger down my abs.

“Shower?”

I grinned. “Only if you’re coming with me.”

The shower was glass, rainfall head, steam filling the room fast. Water hot. Her body is slippery against mine. We kissed under the spray, we were slower this time, tongues lazy. My hands soaped her breasts, thumbs circling nipples until they were hard again. She reached down, stroking me back to full hardness.

I spun her, pressed her front to the tiles. Entered her from behind slowly. Water cascading over us. Long, deliberate strokes. She braced her hands on the glass, moaning softly. I reached around, fingers on her clit, matching the rhythm.

She came quietly this time with long shudders, forehead against the tiles, whispering “yes… yes…” I followed soon after, pulling out at the last second, coming across her lower back, watching it mix with the water and slide down her skin.

We rinsed and towelled off. Back to bed. No rush now.

Final Rounds – Slow, Deep, Unhurried

She lay on her stomach; I massaged her back, kissed down her spine, spread her cheeks and licked her slowly from behind. Tongue circling her clit, dipping inside. She pushed back, whimpering. I slid two fingers in, curled them, sucked her clit until she came again, her hips bucking, muffled cry into the pillow.

Then I entered her again, spooning this time. Slow, deep, lazy thrusts. Her hand reached back, gripping my thigh. We moved together, building gradually. When she came, it was soft – a long sigh, body trembling gently. I followed, spilling inside her, holding her tight.

We fell asleep tangled. No promises. No plans.

Morning Departure – Walking Away Satisfied

Morning light woke me. She was already up – robe on, hair messy, making coffee. I dressed quietly. She walked me to the door.

“That was perfect,” she said. Kissed me once – slow, lingering.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It really was.”

No numbers exchanged. No “see you again.” Just a smile, a nod, and the door closing softly behind me.

I drove home in the early light, windows down, air cool. Body sore in the best way. Mind quiet for the first time in months.

The app pinged as I pulled into my parking space.

New match.

I smiled.

Maybe next weekend.

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