The next few days are like a cold shower #7
Silence.
“Hello, are you there?” I lean against the bathroom countertop.
“Well, yes,” he replies, although I can hear less enthusiasm in his voice now.
“Will you come down? I have a surprise for you.”
“Surprise?” He sounds a bit tense.
“Can you take the keys to the storage room where you keep the advertising gadgets?”
“You know that admission is limited to me, the manager and two other guys from the department.”
“I know, and I think this is the perfect place to do what I feel like doing right now,” I add coquettishly.
“You mean?” I conclude from the tone of his voice that I have intrigued him.
“Me on my knees, you leaning against the wall,” I murmur into the receiver. “What do you think? Meet me in five minutes at the entrance from the stairwell?”
“I’ll be there in two.”
That’s called motivation.
I walk out of the bathroom, look around to see if anyone can see me, and duck quickly into the stairwell. The clatter of the heels of my boots echoes in sync with the thumping of my heart.
“Way to go. I can’t wait.” Karol’s excited whisper reaches me from downstairs.
Well, of course, you can’t. Just like any guy who is promised a blowjob by his girlfriend during working hours.
I’m not an enthusiast of oral sex. Somehow it has never been fun for me, but how could I not repay Karol for what he did for me? I underestimated him and probably was too judgmental. It’s time to make amends.
We rush into the storage room. The door slams shut the moment Karol clings to my lips.
“Will you really do it?” He’s panting into my mouth.
He’s so horny he’s about to spontaneously combust and all the gadgets will go up in smoke.
And this extraordinarily turns me on—I mean, not the fact that we’re going to burn in a storeroom full of lanyards, flash drives and pens with the company logo, but the realization that I’m turning my guy on like hell.
I push him against a metal cabinet, look him in the eye and reach for the waistband of his pants.
“Do you want it?” I glance at him lewdly.
“You don’t even know how much.” His amber irises sparkle in the twilight.
I kneel in front of him, unzip his zipper and lower his pants along with his boxers.
I feel the sting of disappointment, although I knew from before today that Karol’s dick does not impress with its size.
It lacks a few inches in width and length.
But I’m fine with it in this situation. At least I won’t choke when I show him a token of gratitude.
And I’m going to make a diligent effort to show it.
Apparently, nothing makes a guy happier than seeing his entire cock in the mouth of a girl doing him good.
So, I get down to business. I slide my hand over it, and feel it hardening under my touch. I flutter my eyelashes, stare at my man, moisten my lips with my tongue, part my lips, put it in and…
Oh, blllaaarrgghh! Tastes awful. I have a vomiting reflex.
I’m going backward, I’m about to gag and barf, my word. What is that nightmarish taste? I’m freaking out. Why was I so tempted to lick his stick?
“Take it easy, honey. I know it’s big.” Karol pulls my hair away from my face. He breathes quickly. “You don’t have to take it all at once. Lick it first.”
Oh, nooo… You poor wretch. Do you really think I choked on your ‘big’ dick?
It occurs to me that I should sincerely sympathize with him. After all, it’s not his fault that nature has endowed him so sparingly. The poor baby has probably never heard the sound of gagging from a girl blowing him, and his sickly ding-dong has never explored the tight recesses of a deep throat.
Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit about his frailty, but my pussy is a witness that can testify that Karol’s dick never really got to know it completely.
My vagina is as stretchy as a lute string.
You can play Beethoven’s 5th on it if only you have a thick and long enough instrument.
With Karol’s bow, the only thing I can utter while fucking is a false “oh!” or two. Well, and sometimes a long “ooooooh!”
Yes, I admit it. I pretend in front of Karol that I’m coming. I’m an orgasmic liar. But in my defense, I’ll add that it’s a well-intended lie. I just don’t want my boyfriend to feel bad. I am a good person. That’s how I explain it to myself.
“Slowly… I’ll steer.” He pushes his hips out and his stinker slides into my mouth.
Oh, horror. I’m lucky that I didn’t eat anything today.
Otherwise, his pecker would already be clad in a barf jacket.
Clenching my eyelids, I’m figuring out how to end this ordeal here without offending Karol’s feelings.
After all, he’s so horny now that I’ll turn out to be a mean bitch if I interrupt at this point.
His eyes are dilated, he’s breathing fast, a blush has risen to his cheeks, and his dick is standing up like a traffic stick.
The sight of him might even excite me. Still, that awful taste. No, I can’t handle it.
I know, I’ll tell him that I got caught in a leg cramp!
That, and Karol will get the idea that I should finish lying down, or worse, he’ll suggest ‘sixty-nine’.
I won’t do that to my pussy. Karol’s tongue is forbidden by law to go near my clitoris, though he doesn’t know it—neither the tongue nor its owner.
The first (and last) cunnilingus performed by Karol was as pleasant as urethritis.
Shivers run down my spine at the mere mention.
Karol is convinced that it was awesome for me, because he mistook my desperate squeal as a sign of orgasm.
Why is he such a bad lover! I know sex isn’t everything, but I think it’s important for us to get along in bed. But meanwhile…
“Well, darling. Take it deeper. I want to come in your mouth.”
BLLLAAARRGGHH! And I want to disappear, disinfect my mouth and burn my brain cells, which will definitely remember how bad you tasted and smelled.
I retreat, having no idea what excuse to feed Karol. Well, I’ll pretend.
And suddenly my cellphone rings. O God, so you exist after all! In a split second, I abandon his ding-dong and jump up straight.
“Maria, what are you doing?” Karol is gasping for air. “Don’t answer.”
“I have to!” I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket. The number is restricted. Never mind. Right now, even the devil himself could call me with a contract. “Hello?”
“Maria.” I hear only one word, but I can already see Engler’s cool, piercing gaze.
On the one hand, I feel a stab of panic because he never calls me on my cell phone. On the other, I feel like hugging him for having done it at just such a time.
“Boss?”
“Will you honor me with your presence at your desk today?” He says it slowly, in a composed voice.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I lingered too long in the bathroom. I’m just about to finish,” I spit out the words, looking around the storeroom for something that could simulate the sound of letting the water run in the sink. And there’s nothing. Just boxes.
A low murmur echoes through the handset.
“Then when you’re done…” He suspends his voice, as if, damn it, he knows perfectly well that I’m not in the fucking bathroom, “there’s an e-mail waiting for you with guidelines for ex-post analysis for Origame.
They care about timelines. The deadline is tomorrow, by nine o’clock,” he declares, and hangs up.
Exquisite. Another evening at work is looming.
Maria, don’t whine. You’ve been saved. Get your ass in gear and get up there!
“Sorry, Karol. I have to go back.” I put the phone in my pocket with a determined movement, trying to make a disappointed face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me to leave me like this.” He stares at me as if I have grown another head.
I look with feigned sympathy at his knee-length pants and stinky pecker and I dream of nothing but getting away from here as soon as possible.
“I can’t help it. You heard it yourself. The boss is looking for me.”
“I hate that bastard. Because of him, we hardly see each other at all.” He pulls up his pants, obviously annoyed. “Not only does he make you toil after hours, but he also calls you during your break.”
“Karol, it’s just after nine, no break yet. And I was late for work today, so all in all, it’s not surprising that Engler called me,” I explain, and then I move closer to him, kiss his cheek and whisper into his ear, “Thank you for yesterday’s gift. Dinner tomorrow?” I try to smile.
He looks at me strangely. Maybe he smelled his dick in my breath?
“Yyyy, sure. I’ll drop by your place after six. Is that okay?”
“You got it.”
As I make my way up the staircase, I’m bothered again by the question that has troubled me ever since the first time I slept with Karol: why the hell am I still seeing him if we’re so bad in bed?
In response, I immediately get dozens of arguments that I know well and can’t deny: because Karol is funny, cute, nice, sweet and easy-going.
He can make me laugh. With him, I feel at ease, I have time for myself.
And the fact that yesterday he arranged the transport of the wing armchair for me, and didn’t even tell me about it, proves what a good, kind and humble man he is.
I feel remorseful for leaving him in such a state today. I’ll somehow rehabilitate myself. I promise. Maybe at the next meeting, we’ll shower first, I’ll wash him thoroughly, and then I’ll finish what I interrupted?
Just the thought that I would have to kneel before him again makes me weak. I will get over it. I’ll take it easy. I’ll get over it somehow.