Post-caffeine I shave and shower – give the vivid-dream sensation time to fade. Then I check the bedroom. The cerulean portal is still there, unyielding like before. Damn. No calls on my time, so let’s test this madness properly. Sitting on my bed I grasp for a wish – come up with twenty half-baked fantasies, none remotely worthy of my ersatz Boston babe. None capable of conjuring that capriciously sexy sprite.Maybe if I distract myself, inspiration will dawn.I scroll Netflix, watching nothing – mind fixed on sex, trying to focus on the women I’ve fucked, not the ones I haven’t. But those non-conquests are mocking me… or perhaps it’s self-mockery, me and my fine reasons. As minutes accumulate into hours, a few – women and reasons – take centre-stage.The blonde Athenian waitress in the low-cut tee, who laid her hand on mine one balmy August night. (And me too fresh from church, too timidly polite. Christ, Boston wasn’t kidding.) That trainee teacher where I worked – the coy one,. He pushed in and pulled out over and over constantly. I was exhausted just watching him. Sweat was forming on his brow, his chest was all wet and the hair was matted, and drops were dripping onto Tiffanys back. After twenty minutes of being ass fucked I started to feel sorry for her. However after twenty-five minutes Tiffany started going into her orgasmic bliss stage where she could have a continuous orgasm that could last forever. Of course that time I had three other guys helping me along with their wives too. This liquor deliveryman did not seem to need any help. At thirty-seven minutes he cum and he cum and he cum in her. Tiffany had been having multiple orgasms for all of twelve minutes. I think she passed out before he finished but it didnt stop him. When he pulled out her asshole did not close up. He just got dressed and found his own way out. He must have passed our two sons coming home because they came right in and found their mother on the bed naked with her asshole.
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