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| Photo from idatedaily.com |
We walked toward the door and she
looked me in the eyes, "I promised myself that I wouldn't fuck a stranger
tonight but I saw you and changed my mind."
That was the only pick up line I needed
and we headed for her car. We drove to her apartment and, once inside, I got my
first feeling that something wasn't normal. The apartment didn't have the vibe
of a girl's place.
Before I could speak or question her,
she was naked, standing in front of me in only heels. We were a pizza delivery
away from filming porn.
As we made out, she narrated everything
we did, "you're rubbing this" "I'm sucking that" sort of
thing. It was hot in a weird sort of way.
We starting having sex and, no matter
what position we were in, she insisted that we orient ourselves diagonally on
the bed. I powered through although at this point I knew something odd was
afoot.
Not more than five seconds after I came
she gave me my clothes, pushed me into the living room and shut the door. My
post-orgasm brain had the sense to hit the road. I dressed like the building
was on fire.
As I shut the door I swear I heard a
man's voice. I didn't know where I was but figured I'd walk until I found a
phone.
At the end of the parking lot she drove
up behind me, offering a ride home. I told her that there was no way and begged
her to tell me what just happened. She drove away.
I was walking and thinking about how
glad I was to be alive when her car approached again. She rolled the window
down, said, "my boyfriend was in the closet, thanks for helping us out"
and drove away.
I saw her at a football game years
later. She looked as mortified with her memory as I was.
