He walked into the Hookah bar in our home town like he owned the place. It was quite empty for a Friday night, then again we were in the suburbs. I sat there uncomfortably as he spoke to his friend. A conversation I was not invited into but didn’t care about. I’m not really a fan of anything besides his dick and the way he moves it. As I drank my beer glancing at him from the corner of my eye I wanted nothing more than to forget how often he made me cum. Enter a familiar battle – dignity vs vagina.
On one hand I want to show him that he doesn’t have power over me, that he can’t come in and out of my life as he pleases.
On the other hand its been a while and he always delivers.
My vagina won. I finished my drink.
He parked his car infront of my parents house. I’m a big fan of car sex. He went down on me and in less than a minute I came. Out of breath I sat up ready to go for orgasm number two.
“You came?” He asked
“Yeah,” I said still out of breath.
“Tell me when you cum,” he demanded with an such an attitude that it made me debate getting dressed and going to bed.
I jumped ontop of him. I liked the idea of fucking him better than him fucking me. This was about me. Yeah he was defiantly using me but I was using him and since I came twice and he came just once I clearly won.