What the hell is going on?!
Head in the bathroom while someone else finger fucks themselves should not have me just out here saying shit like this.
I know how to be better composed.
Ishouldbe.
Honestly, part of me doesn’twant tobe.
And it’s that part that has the other half of me pushing to ask this young woman out.
Take her for drinks.
Expose her to a few of the finer things in life.
Rent a lux room, screw, and stay connected to what’s as familiar to me as the tequila my liver is pissy I’ve been drinking in excess.
Which I am not sold is because I’m on “out of the office mode” as opposed to feeling a bit ashamed by my societally salacious actions.
“Yachting?Surfing?”She pushes her shoulders back before tossing her face over one.“Skinny dipping?”
Memories of being in the pool, dick to dick, tearing Salay in two, while they both gave me all of them, everything they had, everything they could ever have, lead to me sliding a hand into my pants pocket to slyly adjust myself.“Two of the three.”
“Tell me skinny dipping is definitely one of them,” Vanessa suggestively insists on a brow waggle.“And that you wanna do it again.”
I do.
Just not with her.
Rather than lead the attendant on or towards a false impression I know I’m not actually interested in, I politely state, “You should take your shot.”
“What do you think I’m doing, Garcia?”
“Aiming at the wrong hole.”
Vanessa’s eyebrow quirks in intrigue.“Am I?”
Uncertainty prompts hesitation in my response.
Is she?
I mean…isn’t she?
I am thewrongperson for her.
I know it.
I want to say it.
I want to becapableof saying it.
What’s the worst that could happen if I give it a trial run?
Experiment with the idea on people I’m unlikely to ever see again?
Consult with the notion as if it had true merit.
Investigate if I can actually stand the way it feels leaving my mouth.
