Thursday, 20 December 2012

Post-orgasmic apocalypse

October 2010.  The Jordanian returns, but tonight he’s all business and just wants sex.  So do I.  He gives me one of his world class (did I mention they were good?) blowjobs, running his tongue up and down my shaft, sucking, nibbling at my balls and I quickly shoot.   Then, he wants me to fuck him, and trouble strikes.

Post orgasm, my dick has gone to sleep.  It’s dead, like a cooked noodle.  Soft, like a marshmallow.  Utterly, utterly useless.  The poor guy is trying everything he can, but it won’t stir.  This has never happened to me before, and I am mortified.  The Jordanian, however, is pissed off – he wants some action.  He takes matters into his own hands, and announces he’ll be fucking me tonight.  He then pushes my feet back over my shoulders, and begins to enter me.  He gets a rhythm going, and it feels pretty good.  After a while of this, he pulls out and shoots a nice creamy load onto my chest, then showers and departs.  But I can tell he's not happy....

No comments:

Post a Comment