I try to sit upright and it makes me take a sharp breath. Jesus, I hadn’t had any action in months, and now I’m in the middle of a fucking sex marathon. My pussy is a little angry (very happy, but also a little angry).

It’s just that even if I am horny enough to have copious amounts of sex in various positions with a heaven-sent god who the Mother Nature has decided to bring to my room, I’m still a little sore and chafed. Just a bit, but still, I’m only human. Immediately, that Rihanna song comes to my mind; and it’s always wet, a bitch never ever had to use lip gloss on it… Great, now I’m disappointing Rihanna, my spiritual guide. Wait a second, lube is good, Ms. Rihanna, no reason to lube-shame. In fact, the more lube the better.

“Do you need a break?” He pulls me away from my trance. I look at him, his face is a little twisted in concern. Fuck, he’s cute. I mean, he is very hot also, but that face, it’s so fucking cute.

“No!” Mama didn’t raise no quitter. “Do you?”

“You just seem a little distracted.”

“Right, well, I suppose we can take five.” He smiles sheepishly removing his hand from my nipples and propping himself against his elbow. “I’m a little sore. It’s been a while.”


“Dude, I know that I look like I’m running orgies every night, but you’d be surprised. I got no reason to lie.”

“Why is it that a girl like you is not getting laid on the regular?”

I shrug, “I suppose I’m picky.”

“Well then, lucky me.”

“Lucky you indeed.”

There are some clothes hanging on my chair, lipstick tubes scattered all over the table, the weak autumn light trying to invade through the curtains onto the burgundy fluffy rug. He really is something else. I am trying to act nonchalant, but to be honest, I’m the one who feels lucky. God, and on top of being gorgeous, he is a force of nature in bed.

I never had to ask for a break before.

Thing is, this is not at all how I imagined my night going; I only went to the bar because I had already told my friends I was going. I was not feeling it at all after work, weather blues hitting hard. I told myself I was going to get one beer, chat a little, and then go to be antisocial at home with a bottle of wine; and here I am. It’s fucking five in the morning on a weeknight, I gotta work tomorrow, I have had way more than just one beer and have a gorgeous stranger lying on my bed.

I look over to him; his lean body propped on my kitsch duvet, arms covered in tattoos, long hair falling over his huge light eyes. His li…

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