So Sweet
Since I got fired, my girlfriend and I have fallen into a routine. She comes over to my condo after work and drags me to the bedroom. Usually she sits on my face and smothers me. Then she hurries me into the bathroom and bends me over the bathtub. She enjoys making my head bounce off of the little soap holder while she pegs me with a dildo. Finally, she grinds the back of my head against cold wall tile until she cums. Sometimes, in between, she makes me crawl around the oversized tub while she sprays me with cold water.
Friendly Girl (photo: Flickr user i_want_some15)
While both of us were gainfully employed, it wasn’t so one-sided. There were nights I’d get up during dinner and stick my dick down her throat. I’d sometimes stick it in everywhere, even her bad left ear. Often I’d just stand over her, slapping my dick against her face, bragging about how much more money I made. Inevitably, and stereotypically, I ended every such night by cumming all over her face.
Alas, three months of being unemployed has distorted everything. I haven’t cum in weeks. Things reached a boil last night when she ignored my frantic taps. I passed out. I woke up to find her pounding my chest, apparently convinced she and that sweet ass were going to get locked up for years. I gulped air and gasped, ”You could have killed me, you crazy bitch.” I wanted to point my finger in her face but realized I was still tied up.
She hugged me, tight, and then crawled on top of my face until all I could see was purple thong. For the next few minutes, as I nearly suffocated, I berated myself for having forgotten Dad’s birthday last year, for not going all the way at prom, for being such a dickhead to my younger brother, and for dying like such a damn loser.
And then she was yanking my hair, lifting up as she came. As I took in sweet breath after sweet breath, she fell asleep. A few minutes later, bound and drenched, I did too, unsure what tomorrow would bring. When I woke up, only one of my arms was tied to the bed. After a few minutes, I got up and walked around the condo, realizing all of her stuff was gone. A little note in the bathroom said, “Good luck on the job search. I can’t be with someone so sweet.”
XXX
David Erlewine lives outside Annapolis with his poor wife and kids. On the train to and from work, he scrawls little stories in a notebook. At night he gleefully types them into an old computer while his family sleeps. His stories appear in approximately sixty journals, including The Pedestal, SmokeLong Quarterly, Elimae, Titular, Flash Fire 500, Flash Shot, Tuesday Shorts, Word Riot, decomP, 971 Menu, and In Posse Review. His sad little blog is whizbyfiction.blogspot.com. He edits fiction for Dogzplot. He hasn’t come up with a good pseudonym like Richard Bachman.
