This is what you’re missing, Nate Cross.
We stumble awkwardly through the door, slamming up against a wall. He kicks at the door, trying to close it, but doesn’t reach. Cursing underneath his breath, he backs away from me and shuts the door behind him.
Next to me, a wet nose nuzzles into my hand. I jump away with a squeal.
“That’s Mr. Fluffy Pants,” he whispers against my neck, grabbing the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head.
His dog lifts up his head and watches. My shirt lands on his floppy ears.
Our clothes fall everywhere as he walks me, kissing and groping, through a long hallway and into a dark room. The dog’s claws scratch along the floor with us. I freeze in the doorway.
Mr. Fluffy Pants licks the back of my hand.
But that’s not what gives me pause. Nope.
What gives me pause, you ask?Well, that would be the smell.
Jon…boy flicks the lights on and I swallow back a gasp. “Is this your little brother’s room or something?” I ask, holding a hand over my nose. It reeks of sweat and cologneand sweat, then multiply that times fifty and pour in some moresweat.
I swear the dog is whining because he has sympathy for me. He jumps on the bed and sniffs then growls out another whine. “Jon,” I croak behind my hand.
“Jon-BOY,” he corrects, again.
“It stinks in here.” I cough.
His eyes get round, and he holds up a finger. “My bad. Laundry day isn’t until tomorrow. Hold on,” he rummages through a huge pile of clothing that I swear have those wafting cartoon smell lines waving above it, pulls out a bottle of generic air freshener, and starts spraying down everything.
When the room is saturated with the smells of a beach, he points to the small bed. “Hop on.” His eyebrows wiggle.
I totally lost the mood. And honestly, I think there’s probably a weight limit to the single-sized bed he’s pointing to, and Mr. Fluffy Pants is already taking up most of the space.
“I’m not sure about this…” I stutter as I watch him pull Mr. Fluffy Pants off the bed by his collar.
“I promise you a night you will never forget.”
That’s not enticing if it ends with mewanting to forget about it. But I follow him down and squash in next to him. I don’t know why I do. My stomach is rumbling. There’s a dog watching my every move, and I’m about to have sex with a complete stranger. My giant ass hangs off the bed.
His elbow leans on my hair and I’m pinned to the bed awkwardly. He doesn’t notice. He just yanks down his boxers and pulls out his penis.
And I’m saying the word penis in the nicest way.
He shifts himself up on the narrow bed, making me tumble onto the floor. He sits up chuckling and helps pull me up, cock-level.
And now I’m looking Jon right in the dick.
“Oh, Jon,” I say it with heavy pity.
“Jon-boy,” he whispers, running his fingers along the length of it.
I smile up at him, no longer having the inclination of leaving out the boy part.
It’s the strangest dick I’ve ever seen. I was at once entranced and horrified. He didn’t seem a big fan of manscaping. Themain attractionwas quite thin, having the same girth as say, my thumb, with a crooked mushroom top that looked more like a top hat on a frail old man. If the aforementioned old man wore it on, say, his ear.
“Oh, lemme get some condoms and lube,” he mumbles to himself, reaching over me and opening up a drawer.
I blink up and freeze in abject horror and absurdity. As he twists his body, right there on his left ass cheek is a tattooed rose that saysMom.
I sit back on the bed and try to figure out a way out of this mess.
