Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Broken Toe

She had a 1995 Honda Civic, beige, with no hubcaps, lots of rust, and lots of miles. Not her miles. Somebody else put them there. They came with the car. She had big sunglasses that faded from the top down to the bottom, with rhinestones around the frames. She had a smile bigger than her tits, which were considerable. She had dirty blond hair and a tight middle - a gorgeous girl. She was 20 and taking classes at her local community college. Eventually she wanted to be a doctor. Who was I to argue? I’ve never had any interest in smashing dreams. Not my thing. She was from New York somewhere, the western part of the state, just above Pennsylvania. We rendezvoused in a mall parking lot in Erie (about geographically halfway between our residences), and followed her to the hotel. We talked and all got pretty drunk on vodka and orange juice. Nothing fancy, though it got everybody loose, and served its purpose.

Admittedly, I was a little nervous, and I sat Indian-style on the bed, sort of squeezing my toes in my hands. I’m not sure why I was doing this, just a nervous behavior. At one point, I squeezed a bit too hard and broke one of my toes. It’s a disgusting and fascinating thing to do to yourself because you can feel it two different ways. I felt both the pain of my toe breaking and the toe breaking in my hand. It was remarkable, accidental, and incredibly stupid. I don’t know why I was that nervous in the first place; probably just leftover anxiety from less than smooth past experiences. Since I’m extremely familiar with the pain of broken fingers and toes, I didn’t visibly react. Neither my wife nor this girl had any idea. When I walked, I limped a bit, but we hadn’t driven up there for walking.

After the toe break we got down to business pretty quickly. My wife excused herself to use the bathroom. The blond girl took that opportunity to pounce on me and things got started very quickly and naturally. There was a great deal of screwing and it was all incredible. She had absolutely no gag reflex at all. I was astounded. I had never been with a woman who could perform that task quite so vigorously. Apparently, though, she had never been with another woman before, and applied that same reckless fervor to my wife. It was very hot to watch, though somewhat rough for my wife’s taste. I thought it was fantastic. My wife disagreed. Her irritation was poorly hidden but this girl was so consumed with performing that she was oblivious. She really wore my wife out and it gave me opportunities to recharge and recuperate. We had a great time getting each other off well into the night. We parted friends, though we haven’t stayed in touch.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.


All content copyright 2009 Michael Scuro - All Rights Reserved