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I don't remember every detail, but that's OK. The parts I do remember are enough. My brain hurts. I was even going to stay home that night. Take it easy. Relax... Not planning on going out, I hadn't bathed in a few days or even changed my clothes. But there I was having a drink at the bar, making polite conversation with anybody who'd listen. She was listening... drinking, drunk. Good sign. When the music got too loud I suggested we move on. She pointed across the street to the next bar. We got a couple of cheap drinks and loudly mumbled over the din. She hadn't finished half of her drink before asking me to walk her home. Less than a block away we were in her tiny two-room apartment. There only moments, she went into the bathroom and launched a turd with such vigor that I felt the shockwave in the next room. When she came out, the smell pushed me to the only clean corner of air, her bed. What clever planning on her part! I took mental notes as I pretended to look over her books while she stretched out on the bed.
I reciprocated, remembering to steer clean of the torpedo launcher. I asked for a condom, which she grabbed from next to the bed. As she swung it towards me she also launched a humming vibrator at my face. She was embarrassed but I assured her it was a good model as I'd bought one like it for a GF that was leaving for a long trip. She was so ready to go that foreplay must have happened sometime on the walk to her apartment. I began pounding her and was rewarded by a virtual symphony of queefs that kept tempo with our mashing. As I plunged in I felt a greater than ordinary amount of moisture dripping from my balls. I never understood what was so attractive about pissing on women but right then it became clear; revenge for all those "female ejaculators.' Right. Whatever. She had pissed on me a little when she came. I responded by pulling out, pulling off the rubber and spraying down her stomach. By the end of the night I had painted her several times on both sides. Feeling my work here was done, I slipped out at dawn. I never once asked her what her name was... Plane (yes, a nom duh plume,) is single. You can't contact him, because he doesn't want to be contacted. And don't complain to our editor either b/c that'd be like shooting the messenger, and we all know what they say about that, right? |
Noticing I was holding the book upside down, she pulled it from my hand and shoved her tongue in my mouth. I was pretty drunk myself - and dubious about my ability to perform, but she showed good initiative and gobbled my stinky unwashed unit down like she'd missed dinner. I recalled that the last girl had at least stopped to spit out the lint I'd collected on the end of my dick, but this honey got fed that, and some old crusty left over from perusing porn earlier that day. What a trooper.