OK, so I’ve always had a little crush on him, despite his slightly protruding belly and sloppy carriage. I had known him since maybe 8th grade, and when I ran into him at the train station I could hardly tell it was him until I received a message from him in my inbox insisting we have a drink.
And that we did, on a very drunken evening at the usual bar on the usual trendy strip of town. And there it was. After maybe our fourth shot of whiskey, I felt a tongue in my mouth and knew that the rest of the night was history.
It was like college again as I straddled him in the backseat of the cab while our friends poked fun of us with indirect jabs. We played on the front balcony for a while and then I insisted on brushing my teeth and, ehem, getting the freakin’ show on the road.
As I stuck my toothbrush in my mouth I heard the door close behind me.
“You can keep brushing if you want,” he said, as he hoisted me up onto the sink and spread my legs wide open.
He swooshed his drunken tongue all over my wet pussy, and took my mouth to his while toothpaste sputtered into his sopping parted lips.
Then we made our way to the bedroom and as he stripped down, he said, “Sorry if I smell bad.”
I must have passed out from the stench of a week old dead monkey because a few moments later I woke up and was being penetrated by a dirty body covered in tattoos. The tats helped me keep my boner up, and the whiskey allowed me to forget about the stench… until morning.
My crusty eyes parted only slightly as the sun crept in, and I realized that the sheets were down to my ankles and there was a hand stroking my tits and clit.
Halelujah. Why don’t I wake up that way every morning?
Something about his manly musk must have gotten those pheromones going because after all the heavy petting I couldn’t help but mount the guy and ride him til the cows came home (along with the rest of the farm animals).
After getting our rocks off, Pigpen rolled out of bed and I helped him find his things so he could hit the pavement.
I walked him out and as I re-entered the apartment, I noticed that the hallway was filled with a heavy duty funk — enough to send the roommates scampering back into their caves for the afternoon. You can imagine what my room smelled like (which is modestly sized with one window and a massive oriental carpet to suck up odors).
Lord knew I was not climbing back into bed that day without doing laundry and planting a heavy-duty Febreeze bomb.
Dudes — if you want a lady to remember you forever, rub your body juices all over her brand new sheets after taking a week off of showering. You will be stuck in her mind, and sinuses, always.
Pigpen — it’s everywhere you want to be, and even in places you’re not.