I Need A Man

Posted: November 12, 2010 in Chocolate Martini Nights
Tags: , ,

Image of Chocolate MartiniThe thrill is just about gone. After making plans to hang out around 9, he calls me at 1 in the morning clearly drunk. I’m clearly pathetic so I let him come over. I unlocked the door and waited for him to crawl in the bed next to me.  The anticipation was the sweetest. I heard his car door slam, then his footsteps on the outside staircase leading to my apartment, and then my front door opened. I was wet already.

Richard had no issue with nudity. After we exchanged hellos, I watched him take off every single article of clothing. He climbed in bed hard already. He rubbed my body and then helped me out of my underwear. I leaned in and kissed him. His tongue tasted like cranberry and vodka. I liked it.  He got hard quick. Before I knew it, the dick was in and it was on.

Just as I arched my back and went to my place, that’s what I call really getting into the groove, the pace speeds up. No, no, no! This is totally not working for me. Before I can let him know, it’s all over. The dude comes. Ten minutes tops. Before I can suggest we try again, he is fast asleep. A feeling of pure disappointment washed over me. I should have just used my vibrator. I make me come every single time.

I need a man. That is the bottom line. I need someone to save me from the crime scene that is my love life. My best friend has been online dating, and while she hasn’t found Mr. Right she is having fun meeting new guys and going on actual dates- not just drunken late night calls. I could use some fun.

Fuck it, I’m signing up for one of those sites tomorrow. But first I gotta find that vibrator.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s