5.35am
So I thought I'd be a good girl and take the rest of the day off yesterday to rest my poor head and cook up a tasty meal, no dwelling about the pathetic emotional state I was wallowing in. Three hours later, I ended up being somebody else's supper.
The last time I had seen Rusty was probably 2004, the worst year of my life. It was the time I had run away from home, crashing over at my Guitarist's den, dragging days being a Barista. I hated it. Yet I still trudged down that hill for ten minutes every afternoon to the main road to catch the bus to work, blowing whatever I earned on cigarettes and meals for me & Star. (It was years later when I opened Webster and found a picture of my face as the definition for 'doormat') Rusty was my knight in a shining red classic convertible Volvo when I was late for work that day. He cruised up right next to me, demanded that I got it and spoke to me of cars and hip-hop all the way to work.
Fast forward to present year, a few weeks ago, he adds me on MSN.
So I thought I'd be a good girl and take the rest of the day off yesterday to rest my poor head and cook up a tasty meal, no dwelling about the pathetic emotional state I was wallowing in. Three hours later, I ended up being somebody else's supper.
The last time I had seen Rusty was probably 2004, the worst year of my life. It was the time I had run away from home, crashing over at my Guitarist's den, dragging days being a Barista. I hated it. Yet I still trudged down that hill for ten minutes every afternoon to the main road to catch the bus to work, blowing whatever I earned on cigarettes and meals for me & Star. (It was years later when I opened Webster and found a picture of my face as the definition for 'doormat') Rusty was my knight in a shining red classic convertible Volvo when I was late for work that day. He cruised up right next to me, demanded that I got it and spoke to me of cars and hip-hop all the way to work.
Fast forward to present year, a few weeks ago, he adds me on MSN.
Rusty: Luna! Rememba me?
Luna: Hey Rusty, yeah i do. Its been a while. How you?
Rusty: Its all good yo ... but hot damn, look at you!
Luna: Whaddya mean look at me?
Rusty: Fuck babe, you're hella hot now! Damn gurl you got me all hard.
Luna: ..... Gee, uh, thanks yo. Haha, didn't expect the ugly duckling to bloom eh?
Rusty: Don't get me wrong girl, you've alwayz been ma little sista you know? And now you're looking all sexy and shite ...
Luna: Hey Rusty, yeah i do. Its been a while. How you?
Rusty: Its all good yo ... but hot damn, look at you!
Luna: Whaddya mean look at me?
Rusty: Fuck babe, you're hella hot now! Damn gurl you got me all hard.
Luna: ..... Gee, uh, thanks yo. Haha, didn't expect the ugly duckling to bloom eh?
Rusty: Don't get me wrong girl, you've alwayz been ma little sista you know? And now you're looking all sexy and shite ...
Right. So why did I give that degrading talk the time of day? Well... Rusty has always been a sweetie. Sure he's a scrawny ass dude who looks like he wishes that he was getting down with it with Puffy and Nelly. But looking back, he was always nice to me. He always talked to me when the rest were busy ogling at under aged bitches, and he did throw me a kick ass 20th birthday party. So I figured, this is gonna be fucking weird as hell. Then The Little Girl Inside My Head reminded me of the scandalous rendezvous I've had in my past that really made this look like a cone of chocolate ice-cream. I suppose it would be quite fun.
So he text-ed me at 3am, just as I had stepped out of the shower, ready for sleep, drugged up so badly i could feel my brain oozing out of my pores. Half an hour later he drives up my alley in that red classic Volvo. Ten minutes later I take off my top so he can have a closer look at my tattoos. Five minutes and one cigarette later, his fingers are shoved up between my legs. Just a sigh of relief towards the end that nothing was awkward, and that boy was well equipped with a hard raging manhood of 8 inches. I would have kicked the fucker out if it was anything smaller just as soon as he had shot his load.
My tolerance for seven thrust wonders and toothpick cocks is zero.
So he text-ed me at 3am, just as I had stepped out of the shower, ready for sleep, drugged up so badly i could feel my brain oozing out of my pores. Half an hour later he drives up my alley in that red classic Volvo. Ten minutes later I take off my top so he can have a closer look at my tattoos. Five minutes and one cigarette later, his fingers are shoved up between my legs. Just a sigh of relief towards the end that nothing was awkward, and that boy was well equipped with a hard raging manhood of 8 inches. I would have kicked the fucker out if it was anything smaller just as soon as he had shot his load.
My tolerance for seven thrust wonders and toothpick cocks is zero.
2 comments:
Hahaha... like i always say. It's a pleasure readin what u write!
hahaha
thanks babe
i think we all need a place to be blatantly honest
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