So I got molested Friday, but it ended up being a good thing. Let me explain, the molester was a dear friend and haven’t seen him in almost 6 months. So if getting to see him means me almost getting a happy ending, then fine.
My friend decided to surprise me during my massage, which is not the best way to do it. But it makes for a good story. Fifteen minutes into the massage, the ‘woman’ giving me my rub down started to get grabby and at some point my towel was on the floor and my friend’s dick was banging against my thigh. I don’t know what he did to get them to agree to this--but my friend comes from money and has no problem with throwing it around.
It’s nice to know my blissful experience can be changed for the right price.
I don’t know what it is about him, but everything seems fine when we’re together. I don’t worry about everything and anything, I’m not stressing about work or my family, and I can just be me. I’m not going to be judged or looked down upon. I can be honest and it’s just accepted. He was like this when I was fat and his family acts like I’m one of their own.
They’re like a human Quaalude and sometimes, we all need that.
We met in college and I didn’t want to share him. I still don’t. For a long time, I was afraid of someone (with a vagina) getting in the way of what we had and I wasn’t about to let that happen. He could fuck whoever he wanted, just not my friends. Last thing I needed was to be brought in the middle of some late night drunken/coked up hook-up nonsense.
Yes, he was a fan of coke. Was being the crucial word. He’s supposedly off the stuff for good, but I’ll believe it when I see it. I know it sounds cruel and drug addictions are blah blah --I know, I’ve heard it all. I just don’t get my hope up when it comes to him being sober.
The menus end up being thrown at us and she got the hell out of there. We probably shouldn’t be allowed in public together, but we do enjoy making it uncomfortable for everyone else. We’ve been asked to leave numerous restaurants and we just enjoy seeing how much we can get away with. We usually tip extremely well or pay for the dinners for anyone in the line of fire, not that it makes up for the rude behavior-- but it’s easily excused when you do that.
We went into graphic details of our sex lives and I made the guy sitting next to me choke on his soup. I didn’t know the phrase “…fat cock in my cunt.” would have that effect on people. Color me surprised! Not to be outdone, he decided to talk about his whore of the month.
Ok, I know. That’s not nice. But when you fuck a guy for cash, gifts and blow--I tend to judge.
Mainly because I could never get away with that. Are you kidding me? I’d love an opportunity to be used as a human trash receptacle, well, only if I got at least one Birkin out of it. Who am I kidding? I’d do it for a new iPhone. As you can see, I have high standards.
“So how are you really doing?”
I hate when that question is asked. He can see through my bullshit and has no problem with calling me out.
“I know you’re getting frustrated, but you can’t beat yourself up so much. You are your own worst enemy. But I will say, the shrink is helping you. I know you hate clichés, but it’s true. Rome wasn’t built in a day and you’re going to be complete at some point. It just takes time. You can’t get too upset over your situation. I know plenty of people who would kill to be in your position. Just remember, you can’t snap your fingers and have everything you want. Well, if you have money you can. But due to your unfortunate bank statement, you have to wait with the commoners. But it will happen. You’re a catch, m’dear. You’re a good girl, who’s a complete whore. What guy wouldn’t want that?”
Me: “Did you steal that from a card, because that was beautiful.”
“No, you American heathen. That’s from the lost sequel to ‘Romeo & Juliet’. Bill was a master at his craft. You could learn a thing or two from Shakespeare.”
That’s all it takes sometimes. I hate overly emotional/lovey dovey nonsense-- it just seems forced and for someone like me, it’s not natural. What he said, was way more my style and it made me laugh. He’s almost perfect. I’d prefer someone who didn’t enjoy coke that much or lived in this country. Minor details, I know. But we’re always a little picky.
“So how come we haven’t slept together yet?”
Me: “Because I always thought you were joking when you asked.”
“Why would I joke about that?”
Me: “Because that’s what we do and I was the size of a small all-terrain vehicle, not exactly the woman you usually were attracted to.”
“I’ve been trying to get in your knickers for as long as I’ve known you and you’ve always said ‘no.’ Do you have any idea what that does to my self-esteem?”
Me: “You sound like such a fat girl.”
“I know. It’s fun sometimes. But seriously, do you regret not giving it go back then?”
Me: “Sometimes, but it would never have worked and we wouldn’t still be friends. I know how you are and we both tend to get bored easily. And when we get bored, we tend to find other ways to occupy ourselves. Am I attracted to you? Of course. Look at you! I’ve seen you have sex with lesbians and they suddenly find out they’re bi or straight. So yes, I want to have sex with you and your life-changing cock-- but I’m happy where we are. We have a great friendship even though you send me pictures of shit on a daily basis. But you take the good with the bad and that’s why we’re friends. If I sleep with you, will you stop sending me pictures of your shit? I’ll take one for the team.”
So we ended up sleeping together. Probably not the smartest thing in the world
(I went to the doctor on Monday--no STDs for the kid! WOOO), but fuck it. I needed to have fun and I did. I had a lot of fun. I had no problem with doing the ho stroll back to my car early in the morning and couldn’t have cared less what the hotel staff was thinking. Bitches were jealous. Don’t lie!
The friendship seems to be intact. Although, his mom is coming to town next month and has requested to have lunch. So that will be awkward.
“How are you? It’s been so long! You look beautiful! So my son said you give amazing head! I always told him you were a keeper.”
I will say the one good thing about having sex with them -- he no longer sends me pictures of shit. For whatever reason, I’m in the same text group that passes pictures of shit around. We’re close friends, but there’s such thing as being ‘too close’. Sending me pictures of the beast that came out of your asshole is one such line I have no desire to ever cross.
Shit pics have been replaced by cock shots. Ok, one thing has changed. But if that the worst thing to happen -- I can deal and I’d do it again.