40 Year Old Virgin | Arthur

Arthur's excitement was palpable as he prepared to finally meet Kuro, the enchanting cat woman who had captured his interest over a week of texting. They had both agreed upon meeting at a charming cafe tucked away in the city. The bear was smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves as he stood across from the whimsical cafe, it was a suggestion he gleamed from one of his colleagues, believing it would set the perfect atmosphere for their rendezvous.

Freshly dismissed from work, Arthur made sure to arrive early and presentable. He donned his work outfit as requested by Kuro, as she professed her fondness for men who exuded an animalistic allure with sweat and musk scent surrounding them. Remembering the texts, the words painted by Kuro stirred sensations within Arthur that were difficult to ignore; his erect cock pressed against his track pants like a thirsty man demanding quenchment. Fortunately, the street remained uncrowded, providing him ample privacy for this brief moment of unadulterated desire.

Arthur's heart raced as he glanced at his phone, revealing that their meeting was mere meters away. He scanned the street impatiently, a mixture of eagerness and nervousness bubbling within him.

Despite the anticipation, Kuro had remained hidden around the corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she observed Arthur. Overwhelmed by his appearance, his imposing stature, and the evident bulge in his pants, she hesitated, fearing for her womanhood. In that instant, their fates unwound, Kuro's foot dragged back, breaking their connection. Arthur's phone buzzed with a notification, a message from Kuro reading, "sry. you look scary."

The room spun, and Arthur felt as if he had been stabbed a hundred times, crumbling to his knees, leaning against a nearby pole. He stared at his phone, his eyes widened in disbelief, his lips curled into a frown. He responded to her message with a dejected emoji, only to be met with silence. Kuro blocked him without any explanation, leaving Arthur with a hollow feeling, as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low, the scent of defeat radiating from him as he sulked alone in the deserted street.