It all started with a text, “So… I read the new one… So many questions.” Even with us having just met, at least in an official capacity, he didn't dive straight into sex questions. Which to say is a rarity would still be a massive understatement. He won me over, radiating confidence and awkwardness alike. His approach leaving no blurred lines, making his intent clear but undemanding. It was sexy, the type of personality I could vibe well with, sans bullshit. We made plans to hang, loosely translating to: plans to smoke and fuck. My favorite.
For once I didn't reschedule or fall asleep. Both very common habits on my behalf. My consistent inability to say no to plans always getting in the way, as is my perpetual sleepiness. The universe obviously weighing on this man's side as I anxiously awaited for him to arrive. Curious if the dick would be disappointing, impressive, or somewhere in between. We didn't waste much time, moving at a consistent pace from burning one to Netflix to “making out” to.. well, you know what. Slowly his hands worked their way up my thigh and down my pants, both our excitement rising.
I hadn’t had dick in like 10 days thanks to my excessively extra period, so his smooth transitions had me ready. Even with it being our first hang, there was a comfortability there. One that would prove to be very beneficial in the “we have incredible sex” department, but I digress. He pulled me on top of him so I was on his lap, us both facing each other as we removed pieces of clothing. “Turn over,” he says, grabbing my leg and flipping me before I could respond. My body now face down on the bed when his hands grab my hips, yanking me towards him, aggressively and non aggressive at the same time. Just how I like it.
We were a good match. Him pushed up inside me, body pressed against my back, breathing on my neck. Our heads parallel when I whispered in his ear, “I’m about to cummmmm…” He backed up to watch when I hear him exhale a long, “Ohhhhh…!” I assume this is good and begin throwing it back harder. “Ughhhh, hey,” he mumbles, backing up. I turn around fast, thinking the finale is coming, prepping myself to catch his load. To my disappointment, the situation was quite the opposite. Scaling down his body, my focus stopped on his dick which now resembled something of a murder weapon. Strongly erect and covered in blood. A literal representation of how he was “murdering the pussy”. Oh, joyous fucking day.
I couldn’t understand why my baby machine would do that. This was my bodies ultimate betrayal. As if my vagina didn’t know first hand how hard it is to find quality peen, but then to try and sabotage it with this type of fuckery?! “It happens, don’t worry,” he reassured me, as I walked sadly towards the bathroom. “Yeah, I know it does, I’m not embarrassed! I wanted to keep having sex,” I replied defensively. All the while, standing awkwardly in the corner of the bathroom as he washed his parts off. I knew I had to use the toilet to “correct” this situation but the thought of making this weirder was nightmare-ish. Reading my mind, he laughed and toweled off, giving me the privacy I didn’t really need.
“I’m sorry.. That really did suck,” I followed up while walking him to the door and reaching to caress his dick good-bye in the process. As if every adult in history doesn't know how that farewell unravels. And maybeeeee it also provided me an easy segway to determined if this mishap had scared him off. Turns out, it hadn't.
Moral is, real men don't drop good shit over one mishap. It still doesn't mean he wants to literally “kill the pussy” though. Oh, well.
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