His place is fashionably messy but stylish and feels comforting, unlike most lairs it doesn’t smell terrible. I meet his cat straight away and inwardly laugh at the last boy’s cat I met in the middle of the night that scared me to death.
The pizza is the main event – he has a chicken one and I have pepperoni. For some reason he eats most of mine. Two slices and I’m done, I am tired and want to be in bed with him.
He lounges on the sofa and I can’t work what he wants. I ask him and massage his crotch. He makes some excuse about wanting a shower but I go right ahead and unbelt his trousers.
His beautiful cock is hard and flinches as my lips envelop the end. He moans. I’m so aware of the pizza on the sofa beside us and reminded of the scene in one of the Belle De Jour books where she sleeps with a doctor after gorging on pizza, deep throats him and then ends up throwing up. I think they continue fucking anyway. It used to be one of my go-to wank materials. The book is long gone, but the incongruity of a blow job and a Tops Pepperoni still amuses me.
I slowly massage and lick at his balls, and concentrate at the job in hand. I’ve sucked a lot of cocks, but this is my current favourite. Number one in the Cock Chart, a new entry sliding in above the rest. There is something about his soft skin, the shape, the size – it’s not huge but it is perfectly formed. And then the scent. Maybe it is a fetish, the smell of cock. I love how, after playing with someone you can’t really get the smell off. A dirty secret reminder to yourself of what you’ve been doing. I imagine the scent of pussy is just as delicious on your fingers.
As I continue my endeavours he twitches on the couch and opens his legs wider. And I can smell him so strongly. I can smell the day’s sweat and cock and ass. And it doesn’t make me retch. Am I weird?
We are both drunk and as a result there will be no sex. I’ve almost forgotten I’m on my period. I don’t know if he remembers. We stumble into bed and fall asleep with his cat at our feet.
In the morning I wake too early and we nuzzle into each other. I enjoy the comfort of someone else’s bed, a glorious victory of “staying at his” and having to do the walk of shame in the morning in yesterday’s knickers.