The Unexpected Shag
The Unexpected Shag
Saturday Night.
I looked great. I don't like to brag a lot, especially about my looks, but I looked awesome.
I was wearing a tight black short-sleeved T-shirt with my astrology sign on it in diamonique studs. I know there's a British term for that but I can't think of it now. The shirt was kitsch but, in a very tasteful way. The thing I really like about that shirt is that it makes my boobs look fantastic. They looked firm & ripe and showed off my cute waist. I love when my tits look like that. I want my tits to look so great that any guy would want to titty fuck me. No, not that I'm into that... anymore...
The skirt I was wearing was a black designer skirt that I stole from Françoise a couple weeks after I fucked her. I love this skirt. This skirt was so great, that it was worth fucking her then falling out with her just so I could get to wear it.
So black shirt, black skirt, black heels. I was on fire. The party was near Islington at my pal Stephanie's place. It was a house warming party. She and her two Irish flatmates bought a house together.
Despite the fact that I looked fabulous the party was desperately short of straight men. I arrived at the party with a longtime pal of mine, a sound engineer. Let's call him, the Soundie. He's straight, by the way. I invited the Ex. He said he'd meet me at the party.
I also invited a friend of mine who used to be somewhat famous. He was the drummer in a popular band in the early 90's. Eventually, he fell out with the lead singer left the band. I'm not sure what caused the falling out. Two months ago, however, I read in some monthly music mag, that it was a dispute over money.
I've never asked Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer why. We never talk about his days when he was with band. I think that's one reason why he likes me. I don't clamor him for details or ask him what's it's like to be in the same band
as ______, the lead singer
Before arriving at the party, I called Stephanie to warn her that I was bringing Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer with me. She wasn’t a fan of his band, necessarily, but she was excited that I was brining even a former celeb with me. Additionally, I told her that she nor anyone else at the party should make a big deal out of the fact that he's coming, Everything should be very low key. Don't even mention that he was in a band, unless he does so first.
I got a text from Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer on my way to the party. He said the trains were fucked and he couldn't make it, but that we'd meet up next week.
I entered the party with the Soundie and immediately I sensed something was up. People were being extra nice to the Soundie; treating him with a certain reverence. As it turned out, Steph had spread the word that Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer was arriving. Apparently several people at the party thought that the Soundie was Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer.
Anyhow I wish I could tell you that I met a fantastic guy that night. The party, however, had a sizeable number of gay men. Of course I got along with them. Behind every fat teenage girl there’s her gay best male best friend. So I have loads of gay friends who have remained my friends now in my thinner days. At the party I did spent a good part of the evening gossiping and talking about Madonna. I know that sounds like a horribly stereotypical thing to do with your gay mates. What can I say? It happened.
I did have a great time. The party was great. I wouldn't say fantastic, but it was pretty damn good. There was good music. Good food. A well stocked fridge. Tons of alcohol. Lively hosts/hostesses and nice people.
The Ex arrived at midnight. In fact the party didn’t really kick off after midnight. One of Stephs’s flatmates made a comment about parties in general not getting started until after midnight because “all the Paddy’s are still in the pub.”
When the Ex arrived he was already somewhat drunk. At least he was in a good mood. I spent the rest of the evening chatting to him. The party was so crowded, that it became increasingly difficult to meet and talk to the people there.
I noticed Steph flirting with the Soundie. It was funny to see. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been out with Steph and saw her drunk and flirting with men I’d have a lot of money now.
I like Steph. She is the tallest woman I’ve ever met in my life. She’s 6 foot 3. That’s almost a whole foot taller than me. We look like Abbott & Costello when we hang out. The thing about Steph that I really like is that she’s a leggy 6’ 3” Swedish blonde. She has model looks. You would think that guys would fall left, right and centre for her. Somehow, they don’t. I’m not sure why. In any case, Steph is beautiful and if she wanted to, she could be a model, but has absolutely no interest in that. She’s a geek. She’s a bit quirky. She interested in computer technology. She’s an information architect. I think that makes her cool. She’s all around a great person so I do hope her and the Soundie will hit it off.
Ok, so back to the party. The Soundie left at AM. Steph and the Soundie are the same height. I’m thinking it must be cool to be eye level with a guy. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. At that point I turned my head. I do think there was a kiss involved, but I really don’t want to see my friends making out with each other. Seems a bit too… incestuous…
At 2:00 AM, the Ex and I took a minicab back to his place. We sat on the couch and watched TV for a while. I fell asleep on his lap. He woke me up and told me to go to bed.
I went the bedroom. I didn’t have any pajamas with me. I used to keep a set there, but I took them away when we broke up. I took off the skirt and bra. I slept in T-shirt and thong. I was dead tired. All I wanted to do was sleep.
So the Ex, wakes me up. He says that I can play with Charles if I want to. Charles is his cock. It’s pronounced with a French accent, like Sharles. This is particularly strange because the Ex almost never wants to have sex with me, Well, maybe that was the case when I was fat. But even after I lost the weight I always still felt like I had to coax him into fucking me – and that seems wrong because I know now that there are plenty of guys who I wouldn’t even have to ask twice who would fuck me.
The Ex already had a semi when I placed my hand on his cock. I stroked it for a bit then stopped and sort of drifted off to sleep. He woke me up again, “You can play with it more,” he urged.
“Ohhhh alright,” I thought. What a reversal of fortune. Usually it’s me trying to get him to let me play with his cock, now it’s the other way around. The student has become the teacher!
I stroked his balls, and shaft. His semi grew into a full blown hard on. I sat up and moved closer to him. I opened my mouth and engulfed his cock. He sighed with pleasure. I love that sigh. I moved my mouth up and down on his cock. When my moth reached the tip of his cock, I used my tongue to add a bit of a tickle. Simultaneously I was cupping his balls with my hand. Eventually I reached down further and attempted to stick a finger in his arse. There was something weird about his positioning so I couldn’t actually stick it in. So I kept cupping his balls and sucking. I got kinda bored by that after 10 minutes. Then I went back to stroking his cock.
He turned to his side and started fingering me. It felt pleasurable, but I knew I wasn’t going to cum from it. He fingered me for only three minutes. Then he suddenly rolled on top of me and thrust his cock inside me.
“I’m not wet enough!” I screamed at him. God, I was so mad. I wasn’t wet enough and it really, really hurt . I tried pushing him off me. I guess I didn’t try hard enough. I kept insisting that I wasn’t wt enough. I guess he didn’t care as he kept pounding me.
It was seriously one of the most painful fucks ever. I was so NOT into it. I only got into it a bit in the end. After a half hour of him thrusting his cock in me, I was wet enough. I started enjoying it a bit then. We must have tried about 10 different positions. I found a position that felt quite nice: me on my back with my legs wrapped around his back and my ankles crossed. That felt nice even though I didn’t cum. I was just hoping that he would cum and roll off me.
Eventually he rolled off me. He laid on flat on his back as if he has had the work out of a lifetime. I then gave him a hand job and he came. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Next time he wants sex, he better eat me out, first.
Saturday Night.
I looked great. I don't like to brag a lot, especially about my looks, but I looked awesome.
I was wearing a tight black short-sleeved T-shirt with my astrology sign on it in diamonique studs. I know there's a British term for that but I can't think of it now. The shirt was kitsch but, in a very tasteful way. The thing I really like about that shirt is that it makes my boobs look fantastic. They looked firm & ripe and showed off my cute waist. I love when my tits look like that. I want my tits to look so great that any guy would want to titty fuck me. No, not that I'm into that... anymore...
The skirt I was wearing was a black designer skirt that I stole from Françoise a couple weeks after I fucked her. I love this skirt. This skirt was so great, that it was worth fucking her then falling out with her just so I could get to wear it.
So black shirt, black skirt, black heels. I was on fire. The party was near Islington at my pal Stephanie's place. It was a house warming party. She and her two Irish flatmates bought a house together.
Despite the fact that I looked fabulous the party was desperately short of straight men. I arrived at the party with a longtime pal of mine, a sound engineer. Let's call him, the Soundie. He's straight, by the way. I invited the Ex. He said he'd meet me at the party.
I also invited a friend of mine who used to be somewhat famous. He was the drummer in a popular band in the early 90's. Eventually, he fell out with the lead singer left the band. I'm not sure what caused the falling out. Two months ago, however, I read in some monthly music mag, that it was a dispute over money.
I've never asked Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer why. We never talk about his days when he was with band. I think that's one reason why he likes me. I don't clamor him for details or ask him what's it's like to be in the same band
as ______, the lead singer
Before arriving at the party, I called Stephanie to warn her that I was bringing Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer with me. She wasn’t a fan of his band, necessarily, but she was excited that I was brining even a former celeb with me. Additionally, I told her that she nor anyone else at the party should make a big deal out of the fact that he's coming, Everything should be very low key. Don't even mention that he was in a band, unless he does so first.
I got a text from Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer on my way to the party. He said the trains were fucked and he couldn't make it, but that we'd meet up next week.
I entered the party with the Soundie and immediately I sensed something was up. People were being extra nice to the Soundie; treating him with a certain reverence. As it turned out, Steph had spread the word that Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer was arriving. Apparently several people at the party thought that the Soundie was Mr. Ex-Famous-Drummer.
Anyhow I wish I could tell you that I met a fantastic guy that night. The party, however, had a sizeable number of gay men. Of course I got along with them. Behind every fat teenage girl there’s her gay best male best friend. So I have loads of gay friends who have remained my friends now in my thinner days. At the party I did spent a good part of the evening gossiping and talking about Madonna. I know that sounds like a horribly stereotypical thing to do with your gay mates. What can I say? It happened.
I did have a great time. The party was great. I wouldn't say fantastic, but it was pretty damn good. There was good music. Good food. A well stocked fridge. Tons of alcohol. Lively hosts/hostesses and nice people.
The Ex arrived at midnight. In fact the party didn’t really kick off after midnight. One of Stephs’s flatmates made a comment about parties in general not getting started until after midnight because “all the Paddy’s are still in the pub.”
When the Ex arrived he was already somewhat drunk. At least he was in a good mood. I spent the rest of the evening chatting to him. The party was so crowded, that it became increasingly difficult to meet and talk to the people there.
I noticed Steph flirting with the Soundie. It was funny to see. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been out with Steph and saw her drunk and flirting with men I’d have a lot of money now.
I like Steph. She is the tallest woman I’ve ever met in my life. She’s 6 foot 3. That’s almost a whole foot taller than me. We look like Abbott & Costello when we hang out. The thing about Steph that I really like is that she’s a leggy 6’ 3” Swedish blonde. She has model looks. You would think that guys would fall left, right and centre for her. Somehow, they don’t. I’m not sure why. In any case, Steph is beautiful and if she wanted to, she could be a model, but has absolutely no interest in that. She’s a geek. She’s a bit quirky. She interested in computer technology. She’s an information architect. I think that makes her cool. She’s all around a great person so I do hope her and the Soundie will hit it off.
Ok, so back to the party. The Soundie left at AM. Steph and the Soundie are the same height. I’m thinking it must be cool to be eye level with a guy. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. At that point I turned my head. I do think there was a kiss involved, but I really don’t want to see my friends making out with each other. Seems a bit too… incestuous…
At 2:00 AM, the Ex and I took a minicab back to his place. We sat on the couch and watched TV for a while. I fell asleep on his lap. He woke me up and told me to go to bed.
I went the bedroom. I didn’t have any pajamas with me. I used to keep a set there, but I took them away when we broke up. I took off the skirt and bra. I slept in T-shirt and thong. I was dead tired. All I wanted to do was sleep.
So the Ex, wakes me up. He says that I can play with Charles if I want to. Charles is his cock. It’s pronounced with a French accent, like Sharles. This is particularly strange because the Ex almost never wants to have sex with me, Well, maybe that was the case when I was fat. But even after I lost the weight I always still felt like I had to coax him into fucking me – and that seems wrong because I know now that there are plenty of guys who I wouldn’t even have to ask twice who would fuck me.
The Ex already had a semi when I placed my hand on his cock. I stroked it for a bit then stopped and sort of drifted off to sleep. He woke me up again, “You can play with it more,” he urged.
“Ohhhh alright,” I thought. What a reversal of fortune. Usually it’s me trying to get him to let me play with his cock, now it’s the other way around. The student has become the teacher!
I stroked his balls, and shaft. His semi grew into a full blown hard on. I sat up and moved closer to him. I opened my mouth and engulfed his cock. He sighed with pleasure. I love that sigh. I moved my mouth up and down on his cock. When my moth reached the tip of his cock, I used my tongue to add a bit of a tickle. Simultaneously I was cupping his balls with my hand. Eventually I reached down further and attempted to stick a finger in his arse. There was something weird about his positioning so I couldn’t actually stick it in. So I kept cupping his balls and sucking. I got kinda bored by that after 10 minutes. Then I went back to stroking his cock.
He turned to his side and started fingering me. It felt pleasurable, but I knew I wasn’t going to cum from it. He fingered me for only three minutes. Then he suddenly rolled on top of me and thrust his cock inside me.
“I’m not wet enough!” I screamed at him. God, I was so mad. I wasn’t wet enough and it really, really hurt . I tried pushing him off me. I guess I didn’t try hard enough. I kept insisting that I wasn’t wt enough. I guess he didn’t care as he kept pounding me.
It was seriously one of the most painful fucks ever. I was so NOT into it. I only got into it a bit in the end. After a half hour of him thrusting his cock in me, I was wet enough. I started enjoying it a bit then. We must have tried about 10 different positions. I found a position that felt quite nice: me on my back with my legs wrapped around his back and my ankles crossed. That felt nice even though I didn’t cum. I was just hoping that he would cum and roll off me.
Eventually he rolled off me. He laid on flat on his back as if he has had the work out of a lifetime. I then gave him a hand job and he came. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Next time he wants sex, he better eat me out, first.
posted by Naive London Girl at 8/10/2006 10:43:00 AM
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4 Comments:
That is one of the most awful stories that I have ever read.
You weren't wet enough. You told him to get off you. And he didn't.
And you would consider sleeping with him again?
Why?
Why? Because she's a silly little girl who makes all her stories up after reading up someone else in her profession who did the same thing and got book deal. That's why.
I wish I were so imaginative to make all this up. Thanks "Anonymous" for your very brave POV.
Catfight. Meow!
u sound more like a porn version of Laura Topham's "single life" in the evening standard ..
..both are trying to live up2 an image created by themselves ..
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