She must have had C cups, and a really sexy ass. I took her in for a private dance for a triple session of $60. If I was going to lose my 1989 Andrew Jackson $20 bill, I’m glad it was for that. Anyway, we walked in. This club seemed much more stalky than the ones I’ve been to up north. There was a big tough guy monitoring all the lap dances. But whatever. Anyway, we got to dancing. She stripped out of all her clothes pretty quickly. She was so hot. Throughout the triple session. She was climbing on me, slapping her sexy ass, nibbling on my ear, breathing by my ear, and moaning. I moaned back. She fooled around with me a little by opening her mouth and making growling monster sounds with her head near my dick as if it were a mock BJ. We both thought it was funny, but I also thought it was fucking sexy. I was so hard, it almost hurt my boner. She also believed it was of great importance to point out her somewhat wet pussy, which looked very inviting. During the dance, I could even feel. I just woke up. My eyes are blurry and unfocused, my heart is clear: Where are you? There is warmth, I feel it. It comes not from the dieing fire in the corning of the room, it is to my left. Your form lies flush against me buried in a heap of thick covers, your hair, the color of bright copper, is splayed out wildly on the pillow. I lose my breath, as I do every time I look at you, your beauty racks my mind. I don’t deserve you, my own perverted twisted form doesn’t possess the grace to yours. Your chest rises up and down slowly in a symphony of a lucid vision. What are you dreaming of? I hope it is of me, a livid romantic dream of our first time, quick and awkward but passionate, it is a memory only a day old. My heart beats wildly, thinking about you envisioning me, don’t you hear it? I am perspiring a little, wrapped in my cocoon of sheets, blankets and you. We were not each other’s firsts, but the way we both moved last night, it could have been. We both wanted to do so much.
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