If I had to describe his apartment in one word, it would be “shiny”.
The white marble adorning the floors, for any other word would not do it justice. No dust atop the counters, anywhere. Not a drawer hurriedly left open in sight.
He fit right in there.
He was shiny too.
Hair that miraculously stay in place, stiff and perfect. His shirt tucked neatly into his trousers that delicately exposed only the appropriate amount of sock, if at all.
I was at my shiniest best too, if I may say so myself.
Clothes that I knew belonged to me but looked like were borrowed from the Goddess of nightclubs. Shoes that ought only be worn as punishment, but who’d no other than me, right?
I could barely discern my face in his spotless french windows with all the layers of colours that decorated it.
For all his shininess, he was perhaps the most boring man alive.
He sat beside me on the beige couch, pretending the five-inches of distance between us was somehow electric. If this man had the potential for electricity it was only with things flashing a “dangerous voltage” sign.
Oh, and he looked into my eyes.
Perhaps that is the last ditch effort in these situations to create passion, where clearly there is none.
*Give it up, my dear, if there were any potential for passion we wouldn’t be here*
He talked of his job with his fingers grazing my shoulder, as I internally shuddered with the nausea his touch inspired.
He was quite the grazer, this man, as I was to soon discover.
Perhaps there is a new book out titled “How to Graze a Woman into Oblivion”, you should probably look in the repulsion section.
He was shy, I couldn’t help but smile at his discomfort when he decided to *lick* my neck.
There he was, like a little puppy, licking and sniffing as I gave him my very best professional pornstar moans. It’s hard to do that when you’re simultaneously gagging.
I lay on my back, so he had more access. It was all about him, after all.
Blocking his tongue with expert proficiency as his dry and oddly bumpy lips plastered themselves on mine.
I turned my neck, better he lick away than meander near my mouth.
I cam back up looking flustered.
I do a great flustered, really.
I started to undo his shirt and he said what I knew a man like him definitely would, “Shall we move this to the bedroom?”
“Sure,” I said, *As long as we don’t have to start over*
And as expected, his bedroom was shiny too.
Not wanting to waste much time I backed him against the closet, and licked his neck (I can dish it out too), he seemed to enjoy it. *of course, of course*
Unzipped his pants, got on my knees and sucked his into..well, anything would qualify as oblivion for this guy.
So unfortunately sized was his penis, I could barely smother the giggle.
They’re not so tightly wound when their cocks are in your mouth though.
He massaged my scalp.
*Gee, thanks mister, now I can call off my spa appointment*
I took off my clothes and brought out a condom (from my bra, because that just makes good sense, can’t always count on pockets).
I lay back on his too-comfortable-to-be-real bed and asked, in the sweetest voice I could muster, “Fuck me, please?”
He took his time, of course he did.
He hadn’t licked my breasts or navel or ears yet.
Lickity lick lick, may as well make my shower worth it.
I stopped moaning though.
*Never leave without them knowing full well how much this sucked*
He struggled with the condom, “I can help,” I said.
As he slid inside me, I smiled, the nice girl was dead.
“Fuck me harder,” I shouted, as he tried his best, “Make it hurt, little man”
Oh but he wouldn’t hurt a woman, would he?
“What is your dick even doing in there, I can barely feel it move?” It’s hard to control your temper sometimes, I’m sure you understand.
Then I lay there, with disdain tattooed all over my face, clearly waiting for him to finish his business.
“Was this your first time?” I inquired as his pulled his now-limp dick out.
“No, you’re just a slut,” he said but he couldn’t hide that pout.