Subtitle: Three Dicks, Three Fists, and Two Cups of Tea
This dick report is far overdue, seeing as I’ve been back at school for two months, but later is better than never.
I knew I should’ve warned Doug that I was sick before I arrived in town, but I was selfish. I wanted to see him. It had been a year since our last meeting, and I missed my friend. Still, a part of me wondered if he would just turn around as soon as he opened the hotel door and heard my hacking cough across the room. He didn’t.
We had late night diner food, including a warm cup of Lipton to soothe my poor throat, and diner breakfast the next day.
There was a quarantine zone in the bed that I could-not-would-not cross. We chatted about school and life and pharmaceutical companies. We are such nerds.
He gave me a black handkerchief for my cough. It smelled like him (cloves and Irish Spring soap).
We talked A LOT. After we finished breakfast, we sat in the diner for an extra hour just talking. I didn’t want to leave him. I was so worried about the non-sex having that I forgot, in the end, we are good friends, even though we only see each other once a year.
I had a cup of fragrant blueberry habicus tea. He got something he did not like.
He wasn’t supposed to be there. Technically he was still on the clock at his job, but made time to slip away to see me. It would be the only time I saw him during my break.
His wry smile was still there. Even in his well-tailored suit, I could still see the cut body underneath. He sat three feet away from me, yet it was more of a world away.
His girlfriend was now stateside. Everything was to be different from here on. But we still had our banter. He was still encouraging. As always, I enjoyed the pleasure of his company.
New Addition to the Ho-tation
I had not had any luck with Tinder. Most often my attempts at hookups were foiled before I ever saw anyone face-to-face. This was the magical 1% that worked out, mostly.
He gave a solid 7/10 performance. Stamina needs to be upped. Intensity on the right track, but could be better.
I taught him how to fist. I realized it was the only way I was going to get off. He did well. And I love to put on a show, so he enjoyed himself.
I’m open to another encounter when I come home again, maybe.
Pseudo Best Friend
I didn’t plan on any fucking happening, and in the classic definition of the word we didn’t fuck. But we’re kinky motherfuckers, so we did some shit. And it was fun.
He’s very good at listening to my moans, reading my body and reactions, and then proceeding to give me orgasms. I rewarded his work with some head, just cause.
I keep saying I don’t want to fuck him, and I mean it each time, yet his hand finds a way inside my cunt too often.
I fucked Trouble twice, including Christmas night. As always, he was delightful. This time included him going down on me and the closest I’ve come to dirty talk that was damn near dominant.
The words, “You’re not done yet,” actually left my lips.
Trouble knows how to fist and fuck me well, is always receptive to feedback on how to make the sex better, and he even made me breakfast one morning. I am so grateful for our uncomplicated and lasting friendship with benefits.
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