So her friend says “Hold on”, dives back underneath the covers, makes some adjustments, then gets out of the couch/pull out bed, walks over to the door all annoyed while gesticulating like Mick Jagger or Jack Sparrow walking down a catwalk, knocks on the bedroom door, enters and then goes in. 2 minutes later she comes out and says, you can go in there, the coast is clear, she’s still in the bathroom.” I shook my head and went inside.
The door shut, and I turned around to see it, “it” being a landmine of trash, stale food crumbs, tiny hardened/jagged Doritos chips pieces, melted plastic figurines and other stuff that was difficult to make out what it was. But she was smoking hot. She had the all-too-rare combo of toned legs, a six pick, tight but, short/petite AND big tits- total anomaly man, and…she was with me for the night. So again my little head prevailed over my big head justifying that it was alright to stay and hunker down in this pigsty. I found a patch of carpet, an island amidst a sea of stuff covering her room, where my bones could rest during this tiring night. I sat for 5 minutes, and then decided to talk to my date through the bathroom door.
I delicately walked to the other side of this narrow rectangular room, to her bathroom door, and gently knocked. I was scared. My balls were sucked up inside my scrotum. And then, a self-contradicting, angelic and yet simultaneously course voice, answered: “Heyyyyyy”.
“Hey, are you alright? Do you want me to leave? We can just call it a night, I know you’re not feeling well.” She then happily and apologetically answered: “No no! Stay, please. I’ll be out in just 30 minutes!” Yes. Success was mine. I was so happy she still wanted me there, especially because it was a good sign for the long-term, at least that’s what my brain told me was a good reason and a slew of other reasons that were good for staying. I told her “Ok im just going to chill in your room if that’s alright because you’re friend and Joe pulled out the couch bed and have been making out and taking off clothes underneath the covers.” She apathetically said, “Oh ok”.
I walked over to her bed, made the bed, and then lay down. It was like laying down on a cloud in heaven. I felt a sense of control and peace come over me for the first time that night and I could finally relax amidst a cacophony of belches and fiery darts/farts that my date pushed out on her royal throne. Why she chose to turn on the fan but not run the water to cover her noises was beyond me, but she was hot, so it didn’t matter. I was a man, I could take stuff like diarrhea, IBS, and menstration. I loved this woman, (In a phicklephilly way!) I mean, it was our second date and I was treating her like a husband should treat his wife already. Yea I was a true man. It was so refreshing the whole experience of her saying she still wanted me there in 30 more minutes that I got a second wind while my date had about her fiftieth.
Read the conclusion tomorrow!
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