She manages to come in through the front door without collapsing, which
is good in a sad way because I'm somewhat inert on the sofa, bleary
eyed, but looking like the picture of health next to her as she flops
down on the sofa next to me. Her eyes are pink and wet as if she's been
crying and the smell of pot is really heavy on her clothes, but it
really doesn't bother me now if it did when I would be sober. She's
moaning again about her mother and how she downed a pint of whiskey and
there was cursing involved and now here she is, telling me this,
fighting tears because she's wanting something a little more normal and
not so melodramatic in the way of her family life. I try to be
supportive and caring to say the words that could very well start her on
the road to a new beginning or something as equally saccharine but I
keep slurring out things like, "That's messed up" or "She sounds like a
total bitch." My friends have seemed to have melted into the background,
either they are listening to this drunk conversation by two people who
have the sex glint in their eye or they just are talking amongst
themselves and I am oblivious to the conversation.
Before long
she excuses herself to the restroom, and I pause to think how to
properly move my legs in a forward motion to get to the door of the
bathroom. I'm thinking about how she's looking tonight which is rough
and skanky in brutal honesty but it looks like a million dollar ticket I
could very well cash in. I manage to get to the door and knock and I
come in as she's just looking in the mirror complaining about how she's
looking tonight, but I tell her that she looks exquisite, and that if
she would simply stay with me all her problems would be taken care of. I
would be some rock for her in her trials, a safe haven, using every
line man has ever scripted to get her to just kiss me in overwhelming
passion, but it doesn't work and I make the move with quick motion.
The
preceding is all a drunken blur. Pants and sighs admist hands groping
legs and necks. Arms intertwined, torsos moving and dipping as if they
were clued into some dance we couldn't hear but only feel. I begin to
sweat as I pinch her nipple, and her hand starts to grab a hold of my
waist. We eventually stumble into the bedroom.
On the California
king size mattress we make out some more, slowly removing clothes. Her
skin is cream colored in the harsh desk light, while I fondle her ass
and begin to suck on her nipples. Her hand grips my cock and then I
begin to blindly finger her like a it was a string instrument in a
furious symphony. She begins to moan and then moan louder. Loud enough
to alarm me in stopping the kissing and try to hush her because it
occurs to me there are really other people in the living room, not to
mention the ones in the apartment above and here this girl is making
some diaphragm induced moans and groans asking me to keep going, while I
tell her I will but she has to keep it down. It's no use, she comes
twice and she still is really vocal about how good it is, even with my
hand over her mouth, she just bites my palm and then my neck. She
demands to be fucked as the room is heavy in humidity and passion, to
which I oblige by slipping on a condom and then sex begins.
It's
hard work when you're drunk on a lot of beer. My stomachs doing
somersaults with the motion, skin is all slick with sweat, and I feel
winded because this is sadly the most exercise I have gotten in the last
month. I ask her if she wants to roll over and go on top to give me a
breather, to recline like a slug, and she says no, I'm hitting it fine,
and plus she has a old volleyball injury that prevents her from going on
top, something involving some messed up knees. I finish, after the
blood curdling scream that rattles the window and causes snickers in the
other room. It's a weak orgasm, partly because I feel like throwing up a
couple pints of bud light on the floor, partly because of the heat in
the room. We lie next to each other, glistening in the afterglow. I
notice the stereo has been turned up in the other room. I comment how
well she looks naked, and she makes a comment about how she hates her
small tits and how her ass is too big for a white girl. I ask her if she
wants another round to she quickly says yes to, but then dictates there
could be no doggy, nor any cowgirl because of the volleyball injury. "I
have little to no cartilage in my knees", she says. " You can fuckin'
pile drive it in man like you did tonight. I hadn't anything like that in months.
That and some head."
"Do you give as well as receive?" I ask her.
"Sorry. I don't suck cock. Just a rule I hold myself to. No ass fucking either."
We
dress after she mentions about getting home before dawn and I head into
the living room where the snickers I had heard earlier have erupted
into laughter. I try to play dumb to no avail and then one of the guys
says that I have some nasty bruising on my neck. I run over to the
bathroom and look in the mirror. There are three large hickeys on my
neck. Dark and black they lie there with glee telling me it's going to
be turtleneck sweaters for the next week.
to be continued...
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