Tuesday, August 13, 2013

He Only Plays with Pussies

The first pussy he played with that day

It all started with his question: Want to meet? I was down. It'd been about a year since we'd last seen each other.

Wait, here's a little backstory:  I read an article about Bushwick and they mentioned his cafe. I sent him the text: Bonjour! Ca va? It's been a long time! I told him about the article I'd read, asked how he was, he asked if I wanted to meet, fast forward to:

I wasn't up for meeting him that Sunday night. He text me:  It will be hard to wait until tomorrow... I wanted to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere...

Well, that's one thing he didn't lie about. I said I could meet him halfway, that I wasn't going to Bushwick etc. especially if it's late. He suggested brunch on Monday because that's his day off. I was game thinking it'd be at a restaurant. He text: We can have brunch at my place, I'm a cook, remember... Yes, i will pay for your cabs.. (I told him I wasn't taking the train out there). He asked me if I "prefer a shaved face or not". I told him I like facial hair to which he responded: So, I don't shave...

I am a very astute observer. Yet there are times I'll get the signs to bail and I'm so fascinated by the situation that I stick around to see if the person will do what I predict or something totally out of left field. By my telling you that, you know that means there were red flags, right?

First sign: he gives me the correct cross street but a different address when I ask where he lives. I needed this information for myself, but also to give to the cab driver. As we're approaching, he texts me that he's outside. The cab pulls up in front of the address he gave me and no one is there. I call him and he insists that he's outside. Then we see him coming from across the street and down the block. Without missing a beat, I tell him the cab fare is $58 and leave him to handle that.

Sign #2: he tells me he doesn't cook on Mondays because that's his day off and the only reason he said he would cook for me was to get me to come see him. I expressed my displeasure and told dude he was gonna have to feed me. Mind you, while I was in the cab I mentioned again that I was hungry. When I was still home I told him that I wouldn't eat breakfast since I wanted to taste his cooking.

Sign Number THREE: he attempts to catnap a bodega kitten (pictured above). He played with the kitten the entire time the grill master prepared our breakfast. He asked the grill master if he could take the kitten home and was told no. He was still holding the kitten while we're at that counter checking out. He asks the store owner if he can take the kitten home. He's told no. He pays for our food. He walks out of the bodega with the kitten. "You can't take the kitten," I say. I think he heard me but I was hungry. I faced the street waiting for the orange hand to yield to the white man. Someone from the bodega came out to the street and called after him. I didn't bother turning around. When he came back out the bodega he couldn't understand why they would have a problem with him taking their kitten.

So we get to his apartment, which is actually a very cool loft. We're eating and he's eager to begin, nah mean? I rebuff him and he lets me finish eating. We talk, he shows me around the place, introduces me to his dog, all that good stuff. When he finally kisses me again I kiss him back since I don't have food in my mouth this time. O_o

We go through the French foreplay. Lay on the bed, "don't move", made me wait for 5 minutes, removes only a few pieces of clothing, light kisses and touches, ass licking, all that. He gets down to the fingering and the licking and the fingering and the licking. That went on for a long time. He made a beeline for my butthole. I held his wrist and moved his hand away. "Non?" I shook my head non. He still managed to get chin deep in the booty though. While I was sucking him, he lit a cigarette. So fucking French. He was a Mouth. Full. Lawd.

Side note: Where are these men getting these penises? I'm not a size queen; my dimensions don't allow for it and I prefer sex to be enjoyable, but... it couldn't hurt to try. Well it might hurt, but you know what I mean. I do not know how he fit all of himself in the briefs he was wearing (pictured below). Physics, man.

Pic message sent with the comment: I will wear that!

I'm done, he's done so we take a break. He takes a trip to the bathroom. He climbs into the bed he attacks the pussy again. I say "the" pussy because I don't even know if it belongs to me anymore at this point. Fingers everywhere. More licky action. All good but I want dick at this point. I say to him "I want you to fuck me." He asks "Is not enough?" referring to the oral and fingers. I tell him I wanna feel dick, it's different from fingers blah blah blah. He says "No, not the first time." I repeat his words in a half incredulous-statement, half are-you-fucking-kidding-me question. He says it again, "No, not the first time".

Wanna know what I said? "You didn't cook for me and now you're not gonna fuck me?" I was all kinds of irritated. Plus I don't like being lied to. Earlier while he was kissing me and lifting up my skirt he kept asking me if I wanted to "go to the bed and fuck". We're in the bed now...

So after his last "not the first time" edict, we lay in bed, side by side on our backs. I was busy admiring the two skylights he installed and wondering if he has to treat the wood in his ceiling with some kind of sealant... He snaps me out of my Bob Villa fantasies after about a minute of silence. "Go home." He sits up. "I want you to leave."

I didn't even question it; I just get out the bed. This is when I start thinking a girl should've just taken her breakfast and left. Or better yet, when he went back into the bodega to return the kitten, I should've made a beeline for the train station. But then I wouldn't have this story to tell, so let's move on.

He takes my earrings off the nightstand and tosses them onto the bed. I find it curious that he doesn't rush me at all though. He waits for me to get dressed and straightened up, fluff my fro, everything, while only wearing a towel. He even asks me if I want to take the rest of my juice home (he bought me a quart of OJ with breakfast). I decline.

I ask him for the cab fare home that he promised and he says no. Mexican standoff. "You don't have money?" This time he merely shakes his head no. I roll my eyes. He motions for the door. 

He walks behind me as we head down the stairs to the front door. He fumbles with the lock a little and opens the door. "Have a good day." I do not respond.

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