Gigolo and ingenue

gigolo: chapter I

Gigolo : chapter I

Timing is key, and Bonnie knows as much about life. To create a believable lie, the orchestration has to be perfect, and the delivery needs to convince. Bonnie's guttural moan does not comply with the standard of a good lie. Her moan is a pitiable imitation of what she imagines other girls sound like after reaching their orgasm.

Bonnie's fault is the timing, and she cannot fake pleasure properly, but the lack of avocado in her grocery list distracted her. Now, Bonnie mentally redoes the list to see if she missed something else besides the sacrosanct avocado. Now, the thought of avocados and moaning do not mix well, and someone rarely mentions both in a statement.

However, Bonnie often has to multitask to save her life from boredom. A nine to five job with endless meetings and conversations is more satisfying than her sexual life. Bonnie's sexual life means having sex with her long time boyfriend, Jeremy Gilbert, and it should not mean going through a grocery list.

Misfortune has it that Bonnie's sexual life resembles a long walk in tartarus, and for the imagery alone, pain and dryness are sine qua non to the intercourse. Eventually, making a grocery list has become more appealing than staring at Jeremy sweaty face contorting in pleasure.

The moment is absurd, and Bonnie would laugh if she didn't fear to embarrass her beau. She is faking an orgasm because she wants her boyfriend of six years, Jeremy, to get off her body. Bonnie has resisted long enough the desire to shove him away, and she swears his cock might break her cervix if he insists on being so brute.

In the past twenty minutes or so, Bonnie is not sure about the actual time. Mentally, the humping has lasted an eternity. Sweat soaks her body, and her thighs are hurting after contorting in many ridiculous positions, which result in more aches than pleasure.

Despites Bonnie's impression, twenty minutes sounds correct, and Jeremy certainly cannot last too long. The past twenty minutes have been a slow excruciating torture. Different parts of Bonnie's body are becoming sore. Her heart rate is increasing, and her adrenergic hormones are increasing. The sweating and exhaustion, it almost feels like having a heart attack although bonnie believes a cardiac arrest will free her of the chore that is sex.

Bonnie has come to equate sex with a mini heart attack. She has physical discomfort without the amazing petite mort. She cannot find any joy in the constant humping, and she is certain that her cunt should not be aching so much.

It sounds a bit dramatic and happens to be an over exaggeration of the actual situation. However, Bonnie's long history of Google search has cemented her metaphorical comparison. Scientifically and physiologically, it is not a false equivalence.

Yes, Google, as plenty other young women, who relay on the internet to educate herself about sex, convince that an intercourse is as violent as an heart attack. The extent of Bonnie's sexual knowledge is open to improvement, and Jeremy is the worst person for the task. Educational system continues to fail a generation of young people, and Bonnie is one of them.

Now torture for Bonnie is Jeremy's manhood relentlessly pounding into her fragile and sadly dry cunt. When talking about dry, Bonnie intends to say that her cunt is as dry as the throat of a man who has been strolling closer to the edges of the seventh circle of hell.

Bonnie is in pain for the lack of stimulation and foreplay, but she does not know that much. The article on Google was not clear about such details, but it stated uterus or cervical cancer could cause painful intercourse. Now, Bonnie begins to think about scheduling a visit to her gynecologist for her peace of mind.