So we did it again, like the night before. She was even more into it,maybe because she was more rather than less sober, but who really knows. It was like being in the army, like basic training. She barked orders. She was not nice about the way she wanted me to enter and manipulate her body. I was up for the challenge, and while she never gave me thanks or validation, I could tell the sex made her enter azone very important to her, and I was pleased I'd helped her enterit.
Afterwards she said she wanted breakfast, and sent me off with her credit card.I'm not sure when she decided she could trust me, I don't even know if that was something she thought much about herself.
I raced over to a greasy spoon she'd told me about, about two blocks away, terrified if I stayed out too long she wouldn't let me back in.Terrified or not, I also ordered myself a whopping steak and eggs and toast. We ate it all on her bed, getting grease and crumbs and jelly everywhere.
Like booze, sex opened her up, somewhat. She started talking and acting with a bit more enthusiasm. She told me everything about her day,acting as though I knew the people she mentioned, as well as the other details of her professional life. She complained about her job.She wondered if eating this big meal would throw off her diet. She talked about more shit she'd ordered online. She talked and she talked until she seemed to run out of steam, and then she asked me tofuck her some more, and then she cut on me for not having a rock-hard erection, then she told me to forget it, and instantly fell asleep.
All this continued for three more days. I would spend the day in her apartment, reorganizing her furniture. She would come home, ignore me, silently eat the same meal, do her workout, then drink and ask me to fuck her, and then we'd eat breakfast and she'd talk herself to sleep. On the second day I bought myself some extra food at the diner incase she changed her mind about the late night snack. I also sampled her booze while she was gone – now that I knew where it was– just enough to get a lift, stabilizing myself with coffee. I didn't feel good about scamming the food and drinks, but I rationalized that I couldn't keep having sex without some help.
Tabby did not seem to have a limit as to how much sex she could endure. Sexseemed to do something to her, the way psych meds are supposed to do something to crazy people, only neither really supplies a cure, they just make you somewhat different, which I guess for some is a gain in of itself.
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THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
General FictionA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
