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Two writers, one character, and a whole lotta chronicles. Follow Corrine through her dating disasters, the great loves, and the one night stands. This book will inspire you to laugh at your own mishaps and mistakes and cry with Cori for all the losers that never called the next day.--Book By: Danielle West & Megan Grant

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Me and My Thighs Had Sex Last Night

So I had a booty call come over last night. He's a regular, so I don't feel slutty about it...even though I had just gone to dinner with another guy.  There was a scare where he was taking so long to pay for the check that I thought I was going to have to.

No worries. He FINALLY shut his yap and paid so we could skedaddle and I could have Brad come over.(Brad's the recycled booty call.) I digress. So Brad came over and I already looked hot because of the date I had just been on; and when he got to my place, we didn't waste any time--which was good because it was late, I was tired, and I had to work the next day.

Brad is beautiful. He's a much older man but age is only a number; and he still had a great head of hair with just the right amount of tiny grays poking through. The hair on his chest left my hands in good company and he was tall, tanned, and a successful businessman who owned a chain of restaurants in sunny Las Vegas. He was the definition of H.O.T.T. which would explain why I couldn't stop letting him stick it to me.

So he comes over, we get in bed, start making out, dim the lights (I already lit the candles, obvi), and shut the door. It wasn't long before we were naked. God, he looked good...If he were "boyfriend material," I would have gone rogue and dated the shit out of him. But for now, I would just stick to his face making out with my lady parts. Too much?

Anyway, I was looking and feeling particularly good since I had gotten a sunburn a week ago and it had now turned into a nice golden bronze (aside from my gross tan lines that made my boobs, etc. look albino compared to the rest of me). Things were getting steamy. Finally he got to the good stuff, flipped my hot little ass over, and decided he wanted to go doggie-style...alright.

I'm feelin' good, he's feelin' good, and I know it 'cause he's telling me so. Then I look down and what's this?!? What are these dimples on the FRONT of my thighs??? Did I eat cottage cheese and drip some on my leg and now it's stuck and crusty?!? That MUST be the result of what my eyes are seeing in the now not-dim-enough light.

I can deal with a little cellulite due to the chocolate cake I had decided on a regular basis for dessert...or for dinner--whatever! But now it's on the FRONT of my thighs too?!? This is def con one in the LEAST. I have to distract him. All of a sudden, I'm not sexy. I'm fat and frumpy and all I can see are my cottage cheesy thighs jiggling around as if in slow motion.

I can't feel his glorious penis inside me anymore. I can only feel the fat on my back moving around...clapping into his waistline. Oh, the horror! I have to distract him! He canNOT see the cavernous mountains that have formed under my glorious looking stomach.

I arch my back--that'll be sexy. I moan loudly. I whip my hair back and forth like that little Smith girl told me to. I turn my head as much as I can and make that sexy "O" face. I put my fingers in my mouth. I put my fingers in his mouth. I whip my hair some more. I'm basically screaming, "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT THE WALL! LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL SHOULDERS THAT GRAVITY HASN'T CURSED YET! LOOK ANYWHERE BUT MY FUCKING THIGHS!!"

I think it worked. He came. I pretended to come. And I quickly pretended that there was no sweat dripping from my upper lip and behind my knees and put as many clothes on as quickly as I possibly could because I was "cold." We snuggled, he left, and today....I only ate grapes and hot cheetos and now.....I have to go to the gym.

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