“What are you—”
The door is open, she tugs me inside, pulls me to her, and then suddenly we’re against the hallway wall and her mouth is on mine.
My eyes stay open because I’m startled, and also becausefucking wow, I’m being kissed, hard, by Faith Stilwell, and I don’t want to miss a moment of it. I can feel her breasts pressed up against my chest as her tongue glides purposefully into my mouth. She tastes like fruit cider and sweetness and something uniquelyher, something delicious I abruptly want more of.
My hands automatically move to her thighs as I startjoining in, deepening the kiss. She lets out a sexy moan as she wraps one leg around mine, holding me in place.
My dick is hard. Rock fucking hard, like never before.
It’s still a novel feeling, and it almost sends me into a tailspin of clutching andtaking, until…
Until the lingering taste of alcohol on her lips reasserts reality.
She’s hammered. I’m not exactly sober. She’s probably hung up on the man she watched propose to someone else tonight. And it’s wrong to get naked with someone under these circumstances.
And besides, even if we’d both spent the evening drinking nothing but water, I can’t satisfy this woman.
“I have no idea what you expect me to do with THAT…Looks like a fucking cocktail sausage…”The hideous memory of my third attempt at having a lover slithers through me, making me shudder. She was needlessly cruel, as my counsellor reminds me whenever the topic comes up, and I should ignore it. But it’s difficult to do that right now.
My dick may be hard, but she won’t be able to feel it grind against her. She’d never even notice.
Disappointment and frustration crashes over me as I pull back. “Wait,” I say against her lips, her gorgeous, soft,irresistiblelips as she tries to hold on to me. “I’m…sorry, but…we’re both three sheets to the wind, and…” Her face starts to fall. “And you’re upset, and I’m sorry, I just can’t…it’s taking advantage, and I won’t do that.” I grit my teeth as I rest my forehead against hers, our breath mingling, my eyes shut because I can’t believe this is happening. I hate how much my genetic condition gets in the way of my life.
She sighs softly and goes very still. I step back, reluctantly letting her go, watching her reaction with trepidation.
She leans back against the wall. Her eyes are shimmering, the lips I was kissing now trembling with emotion. She looks desolate.
Nice one, Damon, you dickless wonder,I think angrily to myself as faith’s beautiful face crumples and she starts breaking her heart crying again.
Faith
You know those women who can cry really neatly, just a couple of designer droplets coursing elegantly down their faces as they exude Greta Garbo style morose cool?
Yeah, I’m not one of them.
Fortunately, being the sweetheart he is, Damon gives me a gentle cuddle to comfort me while I ugly cry noisily into his shirt. I’m relieved he can’t see my snotty, blotchy face as he runs one hand slowly up and down my back.
“It’s—”sniff,“not—”sniff,“fairrrrrrrrr,” I wail and honk into his chest. There’s no salvaging this. Alcohol has loosened my tongue, so I might as well just get it all out in the open, once and for all. Particularly since I will definitely be resigning and finding a new job elsewhere after this so I never have to face him again. “I’m nobody’s sparkle pants because there’s no fuckingroomin my sparkle pants and there never will be!”
“Um…of course there will,” he murmurs.
“No there won’t! Because George was lovely, but his… Like trying…to put a whole monster bratwurst…in acontact lens!” I sob some more.
The next thing I know, I’m sat on my bed, and he’s sitting next to me holding one of my hands and looking concerned. I don’t remember the walk to my bedroom.
“UGH.” I flop back onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling. “Fucking microscopic vagina. It’s supposed to be able to take a baby’s head, but I can’t even take an average sized cock. It just hurts so much, I can’t even BEGIN to tell you. And that means I’m going to be alone forever.” I close my eyes because I can feel him looking at me and I don’t want to see the expression in his eyes.
His silence is eloquent enough.
Poor man, I’m probably embarrassing the shit out of him, but I’m too far gone to stop. “And I’m supposed to be all cool, like,ooh, I’m a strong woman who doesn’t need or want a man, I don’t give a shit about marriage, because otherwise everyone thinks you’re a clingy psycho, but actually, yeah.” I ramble on, “Idowant that, and it hurts that I can’t have it. Both the marriage part and the sex part. Because I still have the urges and the feelings, thank you very much. I stillwantsex. It’s just impossible for me to enjoy it because my vajayjay is the size of a chinsh… A chinshlill…”
“Chinchilla’s?” he offers quietly.
“A mouse’s,” I decide. “I have a mousey mousey.” I risk opening my eyes, and the expression on his face isn’t what I’m expecting. Damon looks…sympathetic. Like he understands. He can’t possibly, but at least he’s being sweet and not grossed out, or acting like it’s a challenge and he’s going to magically fix me. “And now I’ve had the worst case of verbal diarrhoea and spilled myteeny tiny weenylittle secret to the superhero man I’ve been lusting after, and,” I yawn, “I’m about ready to die, so feel free to run out the front door to safety. Pleaseopenthe door, though, don’t leave a…” yawn, “a Damon shaped hole in it. Doors are expensive.” Well, I’m pretty sure they are. I’ve never really thought about it before.
Man, I’m tired all of a sudden.
Damon
