Which gods have I pissed off that pranking me is becoming a fucking trend. “Oh, let’s have her fall in love with a guy who can’t get it up– just for funsies! Oh, let’s send her the perfect penis attached to an all around decent human being and exceptional lover- but have him live out of state and never travel to Alaska except this one time on business.” HAHAHAHAHA fuck you celestial beings, so god damn hard. I don’t think I’ve ever lost my dignity so fast in my life to beg a total stranger to let me just hump him until I wither and die from starvation. I threatened to move to Georgia to stalk his dick, y’all. I WORKED OUT A GAME PLAN, ON THE FLY. The joke isn’t funny anymore, Ashton. Come out with your adorable trucker hat and leave me the fuck alone! I am filled with so much impotent rage at this scenario, and from what I hear it’s fun to watch. Hear me out- somebody created this man in a lab, to my specifications, and then sent him to bless my lady parts with his endowment and gifts for only 2 weeks. This fling may have ruined me physically to boot; his giant, uncut, Ginger Hispanic cock has turned my vagina into a mall parking lot.
Let’s start with he came over to my place yesterday, and we didn’t do enough warmup before he shoved that double-decker bus into my Holland tunnel- there was blood. He tore me! A dick so thick he ripped my vagina shōji! Don’t get me wrong, he pounded that poos-poos like a CHAMP and I enjoyed every screaming moment of it. As the last 2 times we met, he throws my legs back and shoves his tongue into me right as I start to orgasm from that thick dick stretching and slamming me to perfection. I almost feel like it’s a rodeo with how my hips buck and twist while he’s tonguing my contracting vagina. (Note to self, ask him to wear the Stetson next time.) He put my feet in his mouth, licked and sucked my toes, and ran his tongue up and around the arch. How did you know I was into that? He didn’t, he just went for it. Lucky guess, right? I lost my fucking mind. He’d stick my feet in his mouth to get me over the edge, then finish my orgasm with his mouth. I wanted more than just one round from him but he wasn’t up for it- cue my blood pressure spiking as I quell the storm brewing behind my glasses. Don’t ragequit this dick in a tantrum, dumdum. Maintain! Maintain! I’m sure he could tell I was disappointed (RE: drowning puppies in my head to calm down) that he had to raincheck on Genital Battle Royal round deux. He promises to come back the next day (here is where my eye starts twitching and I stroke out remembering every terrible fuck I’ve ever had that promised to come back tomorrow to do me right, before hurriedly leaving in shame never to be heard from again,) and I more or less made a blood oath with the devil to ensure I’d see him again. Don’t fail me now, Beelz! I spent the rest of the night furiously masturbating, chasing the elusive orgasm induced sleep dragon. Why couldn’t I be a regular junkie- just had to be different, just had to be a god damn insatiable succubus. I may or may not be a sex addict, FYI… that sweet, sweet dopamine. (Pro-tip: masturbate before you Tinder, kids. You’ll make better choices!)
Fast-forward to today. He meets me at my house, we hit the bed almost immediately. Before I go on, let me just mention what is going on with my face at the moment. I swear to Christ my skin smokes meth while I’m sleeping because there’s no other reason I’m this fat and this tore the fuck up. Stress induced adult acne? LET’S MAKE IT WORSE, YOU’RE ALSO A PICKER! Tens of thousands of dollars into my orthodontia to fix my naturally fucked up Man-O-Lantern of a grill, face still looks like I’m rolling an oil burner in my closet and picking bugs out of my hair follicles. Get these bees out of my teeth. I’d be embarrassed by it, but have you seen the rest of me? I go out in public in my best Derelicte runway wear. Moving on, I didn’t put on makeup for my hookup so he’s going to see the war crime that is my face currently. Now that I think about it, makes sense why he pushed my head down to his Pepe pretty much immediately. How the shit am I going to get this thing in my mouth!? It’s so big around that he can’t go very deeply before he’s scraping molars, I literally cannot open my mouth wide enough not to scrape him. I do not have a small mouth. He appreciates my efforts, says I do better about the teeth than most. I suspect his dick has knuckles, because it’s actually a fist. Calling Chuck Norris- found your cock, brah! I’m twist-stroking his foreskin, with my tongue running circles around the head on the down stroke, which my head follows down as far as I can before he touches teeth. I wish you could see me right now pantomiming the technique and trying to find the words to describe it. This is why my neighbors don’t look in my open windows anymore.
I had messaged him earlier asking if this time we go a little more gentle in the beginning to avoid tearing. As fun as it is to brag about my sex injuries, this one stings like a sonofabitch! I also, in preparation for that encounter, shaved my whole body… and while shaving my asshole, cut myself. So there’s that. After I’ve brought shame upon my famiree by not being able to take his fistdick in my mouth, it’s time to segue into something a little more mutually beneficial. He pulls me up onto him and it’s clear this is how we’re going to begin. HOLD PLEASE, need to prepare what I’m sitting on. I gotta say, taking that lap tentacle in that position was eye opening, to say the least. And by that I mean I felt all my chakras align and open, as my body started shaking. He curves up, and the angle of him erect is damn near parallel to his body. Picture it. What I’m trying to articulate to you is that God actually designed that penis for me, because it hit my g-spot in such a way I may never recover. I moved slowly, deliberately, focusing on how he was rubbing that magical, mystical little area inside me. I got a few orgasms in, my eyes are lolling around in their sockets as my brain is swimming in happy chemicals. He holds me and fucks me from the bottom, I might’ve made him deaf in one year. He pushes me upright and I do my swivel. Oh fuck me. It’s so intense I can’t make my body cooperate. I’m trying not to go full seizure, alright? Hitting my g-spot just right in the cowgirl position, overrides the main operating system. I already know my sex noises and sex face are probably horrific to experience, let’s keep body coordination as much as possible. He pushes me back farther and holds my arm to keep me balanced, then thrusts his hips up into me hard and fast. It’s over. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. I went full retard. I am so sorry for any of my neighbors who thought bomb sirens were sounding, that would just be me having one of the single most impressive orgasms of my life. When he stopped punching my g-spot just right, I very literally fell backwards and crumpled up into a fetal position. My god damn ears were ringing. I was twitching. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT TO ME. Don’t stop, though.
He climbs on top of me and he’s slow and gentle at first. Pretty sure we’re floating, or I thought we were until I knocked my flailing hands into footboard. Light as a feather, stiff as a board. Fuck me harder, don’t stop. Ever. Just don’t ever stop. Thank your lucky stars I don’t have fancy nails because I would have shredded that man to tatters. Every orgasm he punches out of me, we ride the waves of together with his face firmly planted in my swollen, bruised, battered bits. Jesus Christ please for the love of all that is holy teach other men how to fuck like you do. This is how I got started teaching my blowjob/handjob class- enough men insisting I should, because ladies need to know how to do what I do. EVERYBODY WINS! Just trust me. You’d be doing the Lord’s work! Anyway, back to pantsless dance. He’s doing the foot stuff again, as expected I’ve developed a stutter and that form of Tourette’s where you just shout curse words. We finish with him behind me, going slow at first. He’s played with my ass a bit, as well as included it every time he’s gone down on me. Lick every part of me, clone yourself twice, and let’s get super weird with 3 of you and a bunch of booze. Pressing a finger into my asshole as he pushing his swollen, hard cock into me with such control I feel like he’s trying to hold back on cumming. I want him to cum, though. I bark at him to fuck me harder, he follows orders beautifully. The moment arrives, I can feel him pulsing out his orgasm because I am so tight around him I’m pretty sure he could eat candy and I’d taste it. He told me when he cums it feels like my pussy gets tighter- nah fool, you get bigger.
We attempted a round 2 but he could not. I may have made him feel inadequate about it by mistake, because my desire was so strong I would have sacrificed an army of orphans to whatever spirit would grant me just 3 more hours uninterrupted with his magnificent hard penis. He flies out Saturday, I’ll likely never see or hear from him again. He says we DEFINITELY need to do this again Friday before he leaves. Yes. He’ll even pack beforehand, so he won’t have to get up early to get situated. Aye yo Gingey- if I come to that room on Friday, just know I will make that entire Hotel know who’s got the good dick. I will not apologize for art. We’re wrapped up in each others arms, I have my Cheshire cat shit-eating permanent grin stretching from ear to ear. Eyes closed. Just floating. He feels it too, asking what chemical it is that you release when you cuddle as well- oxytocin. The love drug. I’m fucking swimming in it. He reminds me when I spent the night, how it was unexpected for both of us because of the boundary he set. I know… I know… it felt so good though. He agrees. And waking me up with his mouth, heaven. I want to gift it back to him. Someday, somehow, some way. I’mma make you love me and our genitals will never have to say goodbye. So around the time he’s tearing himself away from me and I am SHAMEFULLY trying to figure a way to move to Georgia and live in his bedroom closet, I pose the idea to him he should clone his impressive, perfect, all around lovely penis and send it to me as a parting gift. I’ll send you whatever you want! He suggests a clone of my lady parts. I agree of course, but my very first thought was “I should just send him an old Hot Pocket with a piercing through it. That’d be hilarious.” This is why I can’t have nice things. He exited gracefully as he had to work early in the AM, and I continued to have a mostly controlled tantrum about not getting what I wanted. Wait until Friday… but… I want it now! I am a petulant, over-sexed child.
Crossing my fingers and toes I see him on Friday, or I may go full Chernobyl and take all of Anchorage, Alaska with me.