He just wanted to kiss me. After all this build up about what he wanted to do to my big black dick all he wanted to do was kiss. I told him we could kiss while I was deep dicking him, but no- 'He hadn't done that in a long time', and while he wanted me to be his first, he wasn't sure he was ready yet... couldn't we just kiss instead and build towards that next time. I hate F%ckers like this. If there is a next time, it will still be, 'I'm not ready yet', and I'll be stuck yet again kissing on some sour breathed Toad who gets off on the idea of- well, I don't know what the idea is- maybe my kissing really is that good. He's wretched. Why do some people think good kissing means washing your gums with the tip of their tongue. Good Lord, God gave you lips for a reason! F$cking use them! And not to eat my face either. I ended up having to train this guy in the arts of smooching and after it was all said and done, after I'd given him a F%cking Master class, he says, 'You need to work on your technique.' Aghhghghg!!!!! So there will be no next time (probably because I accidentially threw my soda through his plasma) and I'm stuck with the residual feeling of worms and snakes crawling all over me (that's how kissing him felt). On nights like these I always wonder, 'Was it worth it?' Well, this time maybe not. I didn't hit him; though I pushed him into a corner, pulled out my dick and beat off on him until I came, then I wiped myself all over his hair, pushed him down and walked out. Later he wrote asking if we could do that again; it was the most exciting thing he'd ever felt before and- he just really wanted that feeling of power loss to- I hung up on him. What's the point in getting back at someone if they enjoyed it?
No comments:
Post a Comment