Page 5 of The Surfer

Tessa unwraps her plump lips from my dick and instead grabs it with both hands. I look at her, knowing I’m inches away from cumming. She smiles again, her fucking great smile.

That’s enough to send me over the edge.

“Go ahead, big boy,” she teases.

Yeah, more than enough to send me over the edge.

My cock unloads onto her exposed perky breasts. Tessa watches me as I close my eyes again and moan once more.

Yeah, what a fucking nice way to wake up.

Completely spent, I relax for a moment on my bed. My body’s loose. I can’t feel my limbs. I sigh and I blink open my eyes to see that Tessa’s still here, smiling at me.

“How’s that?” she asks, murmuring delicately. “Was it good?”

“Yeah.” It’s all I can manage as a response. I don’t have the energy to talk to her. Girls always want to check up on you straight after you cum, to make sure you’re okay just at the precise moment you want to chill the fuck out.

Just leave me the fuck alone now. You’ve done your job.

The mattress shakes under me as Tessa stands up on my bed. I get to see her whole body now. She’s wearing one of my shirts and just her black panties. Her long slender legs fit perfectly onto her nice round ass. I can see her tits poking invitingly through my shirt. She’s model material all right. What a stunner. And now she’s headed straight back to me.

She continues smiling at me as she lies down on the pillow next to my relaxed body, but the moment I feel the warmth from her skin touch mine, I immediately push myself out of bed. I need to get up and away from her.

None of this touchy-feely post-sex crap, please.

I stand, completely naked, in the middle of my bedroom. This house is technically my sister’s. Sandy. I’m sharing it with her and have been ever since I got back from the hospital after the… accident.

I search around the room. It’s pretty messy in here.

Alright, it’s super messy.

It’s like a bomb’s gone off and has blown everything I own around the place. Dirty laundry lies scattered everywhere. Random things from my past are placed sporadically on every shelf and table surface. Photo frames. Important documents. Books I haven’t read. There’s no order to anything inside my man cave. You can’t see the ground through the clothes I’ve thrown down and accumulated over the months I’ve lived here. My sister hates it. My room’s a complete and utter mess.

Bending over in the middle of my room, I pick up an item, an old dirty shirt of mine, and use that to clean my naked body from the blowjob’s mess. All done, I aim the shirt at my bin in the corner. I shoot. BANG. Score. The shirt’s in the bin. Even I wouldn’t leave that shirt lying around anymore, not with the remnants of the glorious blowjob I’ve just had now staining it.

I take a step back towards the bed and nearly slip on an old sock stuck under my foot.

Ouch.

Look, I don’t care about my room or how messy it is. I don’t care what I must seem like to the random chick in my bed and I certainly don’t care what my sister thinks of my lifestyle.

I don’t really care much about anything at all.

And I especially don’t care about the girl in my bed. She’s now properly lying there, snuggling up against the spot where I was just relaxing moments earlier, savoring the sheets warmed by my muscular male body.

She looks at me from under her long eyelashes and practically purrs, inviting me back to bed with her expectant expression.

“Let’s cuddle,” she says with her sultry voice. She’s trying so hard.

Why the fuck do girls just love cuddling after sex?

Why are they so goddamn needy?

Can’t she see me for who I am? See my muscles? I’m definitely not the cuddling type. Can’t she see I am not worth the effort?

Can’t she see that, deep down, she wouldn’t want me?

No one in their right mind should want me and my failed ass.