Again

After that night whenever David and I crossed paths it was never the same. He treated me like another one of his one-night-stand loves. We made love I cannot deny that. The way he penetrated my ass was no pretense for one of those things we call a “booty call.” I started to stalk him. Anytime he was on E news with another woman I hated that bitch, I knew he was gay and so did he. “Stop trying to hide it,” I yelled at myself, punching my pillow once again, pretending it was Jennifer Anniston. If he wanted me he would call me.

After a few months he did just that. My asshole got wet when I saw his name on my phone. “Hey what are you doing he asked.” I wanted to get mad but how could I. All I imagined was his big dick in my virgin ass. “Why the fuck haven’t you called,” I asked with sarcasm. “I’ve been busy on broadway, filming Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes.”

We decided to meet up at a small café` during the day. I got real drunk that afternoon, fantasizing about what he would do to me, not knowing what would come of it.

He bought me a small coffee with some whipped cream. He wanted me to put it on my lips and call him daddy. I agreed. That must be what he wanted, a father figure slurping up what was left of his “childhood.”

Once again I found myself in his loft, ass in the air, begging for dick. He wanted to put whipped cream on my asshole and fuck it off of me, I agreed. His dick went in and out of my ass taking that sweet sugary paste farther and farther away from my fuck hole. He wanted me to taste the sweat and whipped cream, but I told him I couldn’t. Oh that made him mad, Jesus. He slammed my face into the ground to make me bloody, then mixed it with the whipped cream, and told me it was the “candy cane.” Fuck was my dick hard.