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Thursday Night Date before/after Its just one of those nights...I need a good orgy or a snort of cocaine...I am the deep whispering voice into your ear...no satisfaction to be found, wells of pleasure dried up in a dusty wind... I need to be alone sometimes, and sometimes not
"You're such a nice girl. You always let me fuck you from behind." I whispered into Audrey's ear after I pushed my cock inside her, laying behind her on the couch, blanket covering us. "Is that...good?" she asked. Naivete', thy name is Audrey. Only been with one other guy than me. And she calls him "the wiener". It is not a friendly sobriquiet. Its not, like, "YEAH, the WIENER!" or anything. Its not like the guy is going to waltz in the room with a towering fifteen inch man-tool. At least, I dont think so. I suppose if he did have a fifteen inch man-tool, she'd think of him a bit more fondly. "Ugh, " she's said, "He was horrible in bed." "Really?" I asked. "Yeah. He lasted forever." Which is just the thing a guy wants to hear. Its right up there with, 'Yeah, his cock was too big, it made me scream' or 'Gawd, I just could not stop cumming with that guy...it was almost annoying.' So I guess I compare unfavorably in terms of duration with a guy nick-named 'the wiener' who lasted "forever". I suppose it could be worse. I could compare unfavorably with a guy nick-named 'Pencil-Dick' or something. "Forever?" "Yeah. He never cared if I enjoyed it." (pause) "Like, maybe it was so awful it seemed to last forever?" "Sure. Maybe.Whatever." she said. Like I said, just what every guy wants to hear. Now I find myself checking the clock after sex. I licked my fingers as I played with her clit while I slid in and out. Delicious taste. Made her cum in her muffled and mute sort of way. Of course, she doesnt want to wake her parents or anything, but even when we are totally alone she's a quiet kind of girl, reflective of her general presentation of self. Her cheeks get flushed, her nipples erect and she stifles a few moans or two, swallowing them in her throat. Then she positively glows. And then I work on myself. I have fun. I whisper madly in her ear with my low voice, my lips brushing her earlobe, my breath hot on her neck. "Do you like my cock, baby?" I asked. "Yes," she pants without hesitation. She never used to be able to say that. "Do you like the way I fuck you?" I asked. "Yes," she gasps. She never used to be able to say that, either. Slowly but surely, I am dirty-ing her up. "Your pussy feels so hot and wet wrapped around my cock." I whisper in her ear and grasp one of her breasts, feeling her skin, enjoying it, enjoying the feel of her ass pushing into me to receive as much of my dick as she can. She's such a nice girl. Brown hair, a thin 110 pounds, new haircut, aburn but about shoulder length. Its a smart haircut, a compromise between the pixie look that the stylists are trying to force on girls and the passe' 'Rachel' haircut that had been in vogue, but is now long gone. Hazel eyes. I thought they were blue the first time I saw her, but no. Oh well. I was wearing a hockey jersey at the restaurant we always eat at. The one with big booths and we cuddle up. I slid her hand into my pants and made her hold my cock for the last five minutes of the hockey game, letting it get hard then go soft variously. "This is soooo naughty," she whispered. Sometimes I ask her if she imagined that when we met, that I'd be fucking her on her parents couch in their living room while they were upstairs asleep. Fucking her from behind, whispering madly into her ear. "Never." she says. I wonder sometimes. How can I see the volcano of passion burbling deep within her, and she cannot? How can I see the good in people and they cannot see this in themselves? And how often are the things I see stillborn, caught in the throat never to be released to the world, a stifled moan, an orgasm unexpressed, a goodness lost, a passion forever repressed. Too often, too often, they rancor and stink, and provide the genial horrible mediocrity and inanity that rankles and rules the world. She kept getting wetter and wetter, I loved it. I always do. I think in some ways I've been making love at times to Audrey rather than fucking her. We have sex cheek to cheek, rather than the porn star style. You either know what Im talking about, or either have only been fucked like a pornstar or only made love to your entire life. We got to a tender point where we whispered to each other. I always used to think it was a time of no-falsehoods, where truth could only be spoke. Where you could read the other person like a book. Silly me. Without the distraction of having my penis inside a woman, I can read people quite well, thankyou. I can vibe people right away. Read them like a book. And this has taught me that if a girl's gonna' lie, she's gonna' lie to you with your penis in her or out. It doesnt really matter. Or, maybe it does, and maybe they feel guilty a little about it later, but it doesnt change the fact that your ass is still getting sandbagged. Girls know from the start, before they meet a guy even, that they are going to lie to him or cheat on him. Only they decide when they will stop, if they've started. In happenstance, they blame a man for either the lies or straightening them out, but its all bullshit. And being a guy, well, a guy should know what she will do, too. And if you dont, look in the mirror and see a victim, a rube. Hmm. Sorry for the build-up. Its not as if Audrey lied to me while I was fucking her. She seemed a bit incapable of it this time, probably in her naievte', but I assume nothing. Point of fact: there was nothing to lie about. "Oh baby," I whimpered in her ear, kissing the back of her neck, "I wish we could have sex more often." "I wish I could SEE you more often." she lamented. "I know, me too." I said, "Things will change, you'll graduate..." And I sort of trailed off. It was true, at least from my perspective. Things will change. They ALWAYS change. They never stop changing. And if you can grab a moment, or series of moments and stop the madness for a bit, hold the bastards at bay, and maybe enjoy for a little while, then these moments should be treasured, and the people involved held close, because it is so rare that things stay the same for long enough for one to actually enjoy. Then again, if you're a safety fuck, living under the curtain of repression, always humping in the missionary position with no creativity or passion, then I suppose you dont know what I mean. Can I just say, dont be afraid to make mistakes or be embarrased? The risk is sexy to us all in so many ways. I really felt her pussy as I fucked her. Every inch. I went deep and felt deep inside of her, then slowly back and forth around the entrance, feeling that popping sensation of tightness, feeling her labial lips wrapped around me, feeling her heat and wetness, hearing her breath, feeling the length of her body next to mine. I lay back and was still. "Im going to cum." I whispered. And Audrey FLEW off my cock. It made a sexy slurping sound as it came out of her and landed on my belly with a meaty slap. "Not NOW." I said, and slipped it back in. A warm, snug fit, pleasure trilled throughout my body like songbirds with solid echoes. I worked for a bit then pulled out, spooging generously and all over. Eventually, she wont be able to turn the cushion on the couch and will be forced into catching it in her mouth...or at least, that's my theory. I got up and checked the clock on the dvd player. I thought about asking her about 'the wiener' and his duration skills, but I decided not to. Of course the wiener lasted longer. He lasted "forever". He's 'the wiener'. Sheesh. Its not the quantity, its the quality. Or something.
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