Surge by Katelin;katie LaMontagne Read Free Book Online Page A

extremely overacted porno. I have to basically tune out her, ‘oh, yes babies!’ and fantasize that it’s some other woman I’m on top of in order for me to come. But I don’t mention any of that aloud because I still get off in the end. So really, I can’t complain much since lousy sex is still better than no sex at all. I oughta know, with over a year of abstinence under my belt. And no, I wasn’t the slightest bit rusty in my technique, so don’t even go there with that, ‘maybe it was your fault’ bull shit. My penis may have not seen any part of the woman anatomy for over a year, but he still got action once a week.
    Fine, every other day. Fucking alright already, every day, and sometimes multiple times were necessary. Are you happy now that you pulled it out of me? Pun intended there, but seriously, I’m a twenty-three year old man with a healthy appetite for sex. I was having it at least once a day, with a different woman every night for years, so I’ve had variety. Sometimes I even had the great pleasure of multiple women as bed partners at the same time. And every single one of them was still calling for more, even as I hustled out the door without leaving my digits. I’m an admitted manwhore, and they were told that before they took me home, so they should’ve known better. One night of fabulous fucking with mutual parties satisfied, was just how I rolled back then.
    Take for instance the morning the world went to shit. I had just left two of my previous night’s conquests’ in bed, before trudging home to find a mandatory lockdown in order; meaning there was no way in hell that I could have just quit cold turkey. So, the beast has been stroked to keep him happy, or else Godzilla would have taken over and started humping furniture legs. Believe me, the dining room table’s legs were looking extremely sexy at one point, so I had to take action before I raped inanimate objects in front of Sarah and scarred her for life.
    But let’s get back to Victoria. She sucks, not literally because she thought oral was ‘gross.’ Isn’t it funny that she told me her opinion mere seconds after I went down on her and she screamed out her climax, the selfish twat? Anyway, Vicky sucks figuratively since she’s about a low 2 on a 20 point scale when it comes to rating her in bed. And I’m an excellent judge with a ton of experience, meaning I know what I’m talking about. So, while John gets to bury his cock between six sets of lips, my poor penis only gets one, and it happens to be wider than the Grand Canyon.
    No, I’m not small or needle-dicked, you assumptive assholes, as I’ve said before, I’ve pleasured many women, so I know that it isn’t me. Victoria’s just been ridden hard and put away wet so many times, that her vagina is the equivalent of shoving a Q-tip through a doughnut hole. There’s absolutely no friction unless I force it in at an angle, nor do I get to feel those delicious ripples that squeeze my cock like a vise when she orgasms. And she does orgasm, since I know how to give it to her regardless that she’s inept at giving it back to me.
    It’s sad, but true, to say that I got a more pleasure from pumping into my freaking fist. Or maybe I should just kick Vicky out, and sneak the table leg into my room when we get back? We’re only here for two more nights, and if I don’t take up the opportunity while I still can, then I’ll miss my chance at ever giving those smooth, rounded curves a try. Nah, someone will notice a three legged table and come looking, most likely catching me in the act of plowing a wooden post, or I could get splinters and I sure as hell don’t want Akio touching my dick. I shake my head and sigh with regret, I’ll just have to grit my teeth and deal with the red headed bed hog and her cavernous vagina.
    Instead of saying all that, because John would only laugh his ass off at my miserable plight, or my table fetish, I wave away the ‘vixen’ comment even if