That’s all. That’s really all there is.
Alright, I’ve got a little bit more on that. I think I need new glasses and I’m slightly concerned that I’ll need them to pass the vision test. My eyesight doesn’t seem bad or anything, but I always get jittery with this stuff. If I do, I’ll have to get a rush order or do one of those one hour glasses things. I’m not sure if those are covered by my vision plan, and I’d much rather go back to my regular place even if it is. But that’s neither here nor there – it’s more that I just keep forgetting to do both (licence & glasses). I almost went on Friday (licences), but realized that I need to have my social security card with me. I’m not really sure where that is… think it’s in my lock box at home. Gotta find my keys to the lock box. Gotta find the lock box. Gotta dig through it for the card. Gotta find time to do all of this by the afternoon of Thursday, ’cause that’s when it expires and I turn like… I don’t know, 90? But this isn’t exactly a huge problem that can’t be solved, and this shit isn’t very fun to read.
Here’s something that might be: 5’4″, very dark skinned, thin, a booty both tight and round, big boobies. She was really hot, but also a bit young. Like 20ish. I think maybe 22. She showed up in a skimpy, bright, neon orange top and really small, tight-assed booty shorts in a matchingly obnoxious orange. She had on those stupid, plastic sunglasses that hot chicks like so much. She had a bunch of those dumb ass jelly bracelets. She had that gross, but oh-so-sexy-you-fucking-know-you-love-it candy lip gloss on. Long, thick lashes. Long, good looking, smooth, jet-black hair. She had bright orange flip flops, also matching, and I wondered how she drove with them on. Bright, fake looking nails of various colors. She was chewing gum. She looked like jailbait. Hot, sexy, candy-coated, plastic jailbait.
I felt like a complete pervert.
But it was completely awesome.
Actually, it wasn’t all awesome. Aside from the creeped-myself-out feeling that lingered with me until well after she had left, I also got a little too drunk. This made “finishing” difficult. Thankfully, she mistook this for some kind of incredible stamina. The crumb part of that is that she wasn’t very good. If a chick is good, I would like for that problem to happen. As good as an orgasm feels, the feeling is fleeting. The journey to it is much more satisfying. I understand that for most women and maybe even most men, the orgasm is the big deal. For me, it’s more like gravy.
You see, some gravies aren’t that great. Some gravies are wonderful. Most gravies are good, but could be better. Maybe they’re a little too thin or a little too thick. Some or oddly sweet, overly spicy, or have too much sage. But even great gravy is just the topper. Something to put on top and enhance the fantastic food beneath. A cap or top-hat for an already fine meal. Be that food a roast, some chicken, or delicious mashed potatoes, the gravy is just a bit more. In the case of sex, the sex itself is the main course. That’s the big, yummy hunk of meat. BJs, TFs, handies, buttsecks, and making out are all side dishes. Yummy, wonderful sides. The Big O is just the topper. You might think an orgasm is more like a an after dinner mint or desert, but you’d be wrong. The after dinner mint doesn’t not complete the meal, where as gravy often does. You could have turkey and stuffing without gravy, but why would you? A mint, though, is often pointless. If the food is good on its own, or even great, then its nice to have some gravy on top. Maybe a pad of butter on your corn, a sprinkle of cheddar on your broccoli, maybe some salsa on your beans. What? You don’t do that? Just like gravy on a meal, the orgasm ties the whole event up in a nice little bow.
But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the sex itself being kinda so-so. Thankfully, she was down to do anything that my sick little mind came up with, seemed to be enjoying herself (matters to me), and was small enough to toss around and manhandle. I don’t always like to dominate in the bedroom, but when I do, I like to toss the chick around. Dos Equis.
tl;dr – I did awful things in bed with a sexy young lady that made me feel like a sick-o. But it also felt good. But she wasn’t very good, so I gave that chick some gravy. Chicks love gravy. Wait, what happened?
Also, sorry this is late again. I had a whole other thing written last night and decided not to go with it. Today was supposed to be pretty quite, but it turned out to be pretty bananas. I figured I’d knock this story out in five to ten while I wait for some processes to finish/curly fries to fry, and then tackle the pile of condiments and fixin’s amassing in my inbox. Instead, something bad happened with some of our Big Roast Beefs that were set up in the automatic sandwich giver. I fixed the machine, but those sandwiches didn’t get out for at least forty minutes. Was that both vague and explanatory enough? Anyway, here’s to hoping I don’t get fired.