She was soft, as she should be. He told her that she was rather
beautiful. He described the three body types: ectomorph, mesomorph,
endomorph. She's an cross of the later two. Men like that, he told her.
Ectomorph was for gay designers who want women to be just hangers, all
models are ectomorphs. He said. She was soft, had smooth skin and robust
hips. Birthing hips. He liked to grab onto them. He liked her on top so
she could dangle her ginormous breasts in front of his face. She drifted
into sleep when he was inside of her, not because he was boring, but
because she had not done regular sex for a while. She never got turned
on by regular sex. It had to be something unusual, unique, with brute
force or kinks. He asked her to talk to him while he fucked her, but she
just wanted to drift, into her own thoughts, her own world. It would be
nice to have a fake mouse, sitting in the corner of the carved space,
that would be funny. She'd think that to her self. It would be nice if
he was not so big, because it had completely changed the way she
perceived this relationship.
Earlier, when they were just friends, when they had done things like two friends did, before he told her that he was attracted to her and he had always wanted to fuck her, she thought to herself, "it would be awfully terrible if we were to ever get involved and I find out that he has a small penis." She'd tell herself this so that the image of him having a small penis forever stuck in her head, so much so that she was convinced that sex would be awful.
She also pictured him calling fucking making love. Which again, would ruin it for her.
But instead, the opposite happened. He stripped naked and got under the cover, brought her in bed, and said that he never sleep with anything on him. He slept naked, just like she did. When she asked of him, "Isn't it too soon for us to fuck?" He looked at her, all seriousness, and said, "No, not too soon to fuck." She was still uncertain, but he just got on top of her, and put his penis in front of her face like he had expected her to suck. This was again an unexpected move. She was horrified at first, imagining that it was a small penis, with funny smell, the usual nightmare of a single woman's dating life. The dreadful truth. But instead, she found the exact opposite. The penis was erect, long, clean, beautiful and bigger than she's ever seen. "You have a giant penis." She stroked it as she checked out the lamp just above her head. She discovered for the first time, there was a mirror that covered the entire wall just behind his bed posts. He laughed. "It is above average." He said. At that moment, her unexpected fear kicked in. "What if I like this?" She found herself asking this question. It would also ruin it all.
The friendship. Ruined. They were to be known as fuck buddies. No longer deep discussions and book club meetings. No longer bike rides or movie nights with popcorn. This changed it all. She was to bed him and his penis would be firmly planted in her pussy, and they would no longer be friends.
He created one of the earlier version of fuck machines. A component of it, anyway. He was not happy with what's been put on the market. He thought it would be better if the machine was designed to sense the female's body and not just a mimicking of male's fantasy - to go all night, in that unison motion of movements. It would be a better design if the f-machine sensed women's reaction and changed its rhythm accordingly.
Earlier that night, when they were eating left overs and conducting a little bit of people watching, he'd say, "Tonight's garbage night, they are out there collecting cans again. They are pretty neat, but for every three cans, they get fifteen cents. What kind of life is that? That does not make much money." He was talking to himself again. He liked to do that, as if she did not exist, as if she was just there to read a book. The intent of the meeting, as she had reminded herself, was to gather for their usual book club, expect everyone else had been out of town, it was just he and she, and then as you, the reader would know, it's "the rest was history."
The book club book was on his bed end table. She wondered if it would be too rude for her to read while he fucked her. He could fuck for hours. He was clearly enjoying it and she was clearly just killing time. She didn't want to go home. Her kid's dad was watching the kid, and she didn't want to go and run into him. She had argued with him about her kid's eating habit the other day, and she didn't want to get into it again with him. She was hoping to finish her book club and then hit the wine bar down Polk street. She had expected a little wine and a little pot, but instead she was in his bed, this man whom she had always liked, found attractive but had not expected to have sex with, to have his bodily fluid
Suppose that was how they would start. The beginning also marked an end to her relationship to the baby daddy. She had never thought of herself as committed. But she knew she was not single either.
This man adored her more than her ex ever did, the man who fathered her child. He was polite, extremely smart, and never wanted a child or a wife. It would appear that they'd be perfect for each other. Except he would never meet her son. It would be too much.
As she was drifting into her thoughts, she sensed a jolt and then followed by his sudden urgent movement and his stillness.
Afterwards, he informed her that he was attending a birthday dinner on Saturday, and if she was interested in going with him.
She always thought that he was an eccentric man with no friends. But she was wrong.
There was a ladder in the living room that took one to the attic, there was a ladder in the front room that took one to a sleeping quarter. Then there was the ladder that led her down to the basement. She counted three custom made ladders. Each ladder led one to a stranger place.
She had not climbed the ladder in the front part of the house. She wanted to know if she could ask him to take her to one of the ladders in the front room.
But instead, she asked, "How was it? Did you enjoy fucking me?"
Earlier, when they were just friends, when they had done things like two friends did, before he told her that he was attracted to her and he had always wanted to fuck her, she thought to herself, "it would be awfully terrible if we were to ever get involved and I find out that he has a small penis." She'd tell herself this so that the image of him having a small penis forever stuck in her head, so much so that she was convinced that sex would be awful.
She also pictured him calling fucking making love. Which again, would ruin it for her.
But instead, the opposite happened. He stripped naked and got under the cover, brought her in bed, and said that he never sleep with anything on him. He slept naked, just like she did. When she asked of him, "Isn't it too soon for us to fuck?" He looked at her, all seriousness, and said, "No, not too soon to fuck." She was still uncertain, but he just got on top of her, and put his penis in front of her face like he had expected her to suck. This was again an unexpected move. She was horrified at first, imagining that it was a small penis, with funny smell, the usual nightmare of a single woman's dating life. The dreadful truth. But instead, she found the exact opposite. The penis was erect, long, clean, beautiful and bigger than she's ever seen. "You have a giant penis." She stroked it as she checked out the lamp just above her head. She discovered for the first time, there was a mirror that covered the entire wall just behind his bed posts. He laughed. "It is above average." He said. At that moment, her unexpected fear kicked in. "What if I like this?" She found herself asking this question. It would also ruin it all.
The friendship. Ruined. They were to be known as fuck buddies. No longer deep discussions and book club meetings. No longer bike rides or movie nights with popcorn. This changed it all. She was to bed him and his penis would be firmly planted in her pussy, and they would no longer be friends.
He created one of the earlier version of fuck machines. A component of it, anyway. He was not happy with what's been put on the market. He thought it would be better if the machine was designed to sense the female's body and not just a mimicking of male's fantasy - to go all night, in that unison motion of movements. It would be a better design if the f-machine sensed women's reaction and changed its rhythm accordingly.
Earlier that night, when they were eating left overs and conducting a little bit of people watching, he'd say, "Tonight's garbage night, they are out there collecting cans again. They are pretty neat, but for every three cans, they get fifteen cents. What kind of life is that? That does not make much money." He was talking to himself again. He liked to do that, as if she did not exist, as if she was just there to read a book. The intent of the meeting, as she had reminded herself, was to gather for their usual book club, expect everyone else had been out of town, it was just he and she, and then as you, the reader would know, it's "the rest was history."
The book club book was on his bed end table. She wondered if it would be too rude for her to read while he fucked her. He could fuck for hours. He was clearly enjoying it and she was clearly just killing time. She didn't want to go home. Her kid's dad was watching the kid, and she didn't want to go and run into him. She had argued with him about her kid's eating habit the other day, and she didn't want to get into it again with him. She was hoping to finish her book club and then hit the wine bar down Polk street. She had expected a little wine and a little pot, but instead she was in his bed, this man whom she had always liked, found attractive but had not expected to have sex with, to have his bodily fluid
Suppose that was how they would start. The beginning also marked an end to her relationship to the baby daddy. She had never thought of herself as committed. But she knew she was not single either.
This man adored her more than her ex ever did, the man who fathered her child. He was polite, extremely smart, and never wanted a child or a wife. It would appear that they'd be perfect for each other. Except he would never meet her son. It would be too much.
As she was drifting into her thoughts, she sensed a jolt and then followed by his sudden urgent movement and his stillness.
Afterwards, he informed her that he was attending a birthday dinner on Saturday, and if she was interested in going with him.
She always thought that he was an eccentric man with no friends. But she was wrong.
There was a ladder in the living room that took one to the attic, there was a ladder in the front room that took one to a sleeping quarter. Then there was the ladder that led her down to the basement. She counted three custom made ladders. Each ladder led one to a stranger place.
She had not climbed the ladder in the front part of the house. She wanted to know if she could ask him to take her to one of the ladders in the front room.
But instead, she asked, "How was it? Did you enjoy fucking me?"
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