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The other night, for the first time since the Clinton impeachment hearings, I had a bona fide date that didn't require a financial transaction. Granted, the sex not being a usual guaranteed occurrence kind of sucked, but having someone that actually liked me for me made a brother feel like less of a scumbag for once - there's something special about a chick hanging on your every word, instead of her having that ever so loving "
I'm only listening to this chubby bastard talk about Hip Hop all night long because he's paying" look in her eyes. We did what any single 30-somethings would do, we had a great dinner even after I blurted out a turrets-like "
If you order from the right side of the menu, baby we're fucking!!", we talked about the charred remains and dismembered bodies that made up our past relationships - she was so cool and old school, she didn't even throw a drink in my face when I said that preceding our first sexual experience I wanted Heavy D's "
Mr Big Stuff" to play in the background while I walk in the room grabbing my cock while swaying back and forth to the beat. When we got back to my crib I didn't even think about making a move, sure I had the utmost respect for this woman, but it had more to do with the fact that saying amateurish shit like "
I want to make love to your throat!" wouldn't go over so well - besides, her shirt was kind of a silky material, if any miscellaneous ejaculate landed on that I'm sure she'd have her hand out like a Maitre d'. So any act of kindness on my part that night was simply thought of as a booty investment, coming off as the gracious host with a heart of gold I knew would pay off at some point - whenever she decided to '
deposit" that ass on to me, to continue with the banking metaphor a bit further.(Read more
here)
1 comment:
......i like it.
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