She jumped off the suspended bed and screamed as her ankle made an awful crunching noise. That’s how it ended. I didn’t want it to end that way. I swear. But it always did.
Rewind a little. Four hours before. I’m sitting at my desk scrolling through my News Feed, looking for that one picture of Annabel Crowley. I could have just searched for it, but I didn’t want to. Scrolling down the newsfeed at this time of year opened up the possibility of seeing other hot girls, posing for dangerous mirror pictures in their swimwear. This was after all the one good thing about summer in Madrid.
But this time, no luck. As I scrolled and avoided countless memes and videos promoting Islam as a religion of violence, I gave up and searched for her name in the search bar. Annabel Crowley. Double D’s. Not the fat kind, but the hot kind, the kind you wanted to burry your face in like King Arthurs sword, the kind that you wanted to sleep on and nibble on in the morning. Those kind of t***.
I enlarged the picture, zooming in and finding the perfect equilibrium between face and b****. This wasn’t p***, I wasn’t really into p***. My dad had always warned me that p*** would steal away from the wonder of the real thing, and that it ruined the minds of young teenagers. He told me that when he bought me my first bottle of lube at age 13. He had smiled as he had patted me on the back, his face radiating with that very obvious paternal pride.
“It’s time you became half a man, son. Half for now, and half when you’re sixteen” he had said. Thinking back to it now, it may have been a bit weird for a father to do, but I’d always known that my dad did have the best intentions in mind.
Anyways, I’d listened to my dad, and watched p*** only once or twice. Never to w*** though, because I knew it would be an insult to his memory, I wanted to keep the little shards I had of him left as clean and crystal as the meth that had killed him. Kind of fucked up, I know it is, but if waging a personal war on p*** made me less depressed, I was Ok with it. So f*** you.
Ten minutes of staring at Annabel’s beautiful face and the outlines of her gorgeous b****, the climax came and I came. Yeah, it came, and then I came. Sounds funny but there’s no point being all poetic about it. It’s c**, it comes and it goes, it’s kind of part of its job.
I closed the facebook page and went to Netflix, logging in and starting to load the movie I had chosen for the night’s date: “The Notebook”. Cliché, yes, but I wasn’t one to give a s*** about technicalities if it was going to get me laid tonight. Two hours and four minutes of the shittest romance movie ever created, were bearable to say the least if one hour and two minutes of sensual sexual i********** were the desert after the main course. Yeah, I know, now I’m trying to be poetic.
So yeah, Netflix ready to go to be my wingman, I unplugged my laptop from the monitor and headed over to my bedroom. I placed the laptop in a strategically good position; Plenty of room to get some touchy feely in, but also a good angle to watch the movie. Netflix and chill did imply the dirty, but it was an unwritten rule that the Netflix part still had to happen in some way.
The doorbell rang. Annabel was here.
The movie had been a little torturous, I won’t try to deny it. But as my tongue was exploring the inside of Annabel’s mouth, I realized the full potential of a little average Allie Hamilton acting. (God bless your soul lady).
I tried to keep my head cool as things heated up and Mr. Eager from downstairs prepared to come a knocking. My hands were on those beautiful double D’s, and as I stealthily slid them under her bra, I received no insurrection on her behalf. Things really were going well, I unhooked her bra, and pulled at it gently. It’s about f****** time Greg, just make sure to not do the one thing.
She pulled away from my face briefly, and confusion begun to eat away at me. This was Netflix and Chill, not Netflix and then Chill but only till second Base. I relaxed when she pulled off her shirt. DOUBLE D’S! I have said it before and I’ll say it again. DOUBLE F****** D’S!
She smiled in a sort of proud way as I kind of stared dumb founded. Then she drew up to me again and kissed me eagerly, getting on top of me.
F***. The thing. The c** exploded from my p**** as the excitement derailed me. Every time. It wasn’t a problem, I could pretend it didn’t happen. But they always noticed. Every f****** time. I groaned.
“What the f***?” shouted Annabel as she backed off in horror.
“It happens every time, I’m so sorry, it’s just-” I tried to explain but was cut off as she grabbed her shirt and jumped off my suspended bed.
“Don’t ever call me again! You f****** disgusting… AAAAHHHHH F***!”
The bed was suspended for obvious reasons. I hoped when they twisted their ankles that they’d kind of feel bad for me and give me another chance.
They never did.
They always left me.
The precumming virgin.