BigJimsWornOutTires
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- Feb 6, 2021
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Her face looked like a muffin. But with two human eyes embedded. And a nose and cherry red lips. A muffin face.
I never noticed before. Maybe it was because I was used to seeing the top of her head rock back and forth—up and down. Maybe it was seeing the back of it as I pulled her hair though she'd insist. "Don't be polite, Jim! Pull it like you mean it!" Maybe it was her ass that stole most of the attention. Or maybe it was her tits that jiggled and bounced as she wrecked my shaft.
Maybe it was because she abandoned me on that cold dark snowy night. "Asshole, you don't text dick pics to another woman when you're in bed with me!" And so she said as she smoked her tires and drove off into the creepy night.
She had a busy schedule as an attorney for a public school board and, at first, wasn't looking for anything serious. But when she met my shaft, that all changed rather quickly. She told me the largest she had was a pathetic eight inches. Ugh. That made me sick to my gut. How can any man live life with such a tiny manhood? Why don't they turn that embarrassment inside out into a faggot-gina? Ugh. Questions, questions. But she didn't mind my strange pondering out loud. Once she said, "Jim, you can tell me you're an alien for all I care, just keep that dick coming."
And for some odd reason, I developed feelings for her.
I had a one-date rule - meaning, show up, and my cock is yours. That was just enough time to get my dick wet and move on to the next score. But with muffin face, we had a connection. We didn't go out to eat. We didn't hold hands and walk laps in a park. What we had was nasty shit-smelling sex without the worries of catching STDs. We shared our test results at that first meeting. And within an hour, her ankles were pinned down to a bed adjacent to her ears, me pounding her vagina into a puddle of pussy juices.
Muffin face was petite and slender, like a tall midget, built like a cheap stripper. But she always dressed like a lawyer. You know what I mean --- trousers, necktie, suit coat, penny loafers, her long night-black hair tied into a bun. She had what I like to refer to as a sheboon booty, plumped and wide, but I like how it paddled my dick when I punch that shit hard, nicca. What up?
When it came to me and muffin face, I didn't need much.
I didn't need money because she paid for everything. I didn't need to suck my own dick; she did that for me. I didn't need to feed myself; she would feed me with a spoon and folk. I was her baby. Ugh. After reading what I just typed makes this sound rather disturbing. A grown man fed like a big muscular baby? Ugh. Anyway, I didn't need anyone but her.
And she never asked anything of me, either. Well. Except for not sending dick pics to other women while in bed with her. Ugh.
When we were together, we joked a lot about people's handicaps like men's short heights and bald heads while doing shots of tequila, ended our brief time together with me fucking her in her ass, or vice versa.
It was perfect.
But I fucked that up. Why couldn't I resist taking pictures of my dick? Why couldn't I not send other women those pics? Why? Why? Why?
Ugh. That was pretty dramatic there with all those whys. As if there was regret eating at me like a rat sinking its teeth into a homeless person's half-eaten donut in the back of a lipstick alley.
She was gone.
I never noticed before. Maybe it was because I was used to seeing the top of her head rock back and forth—up and down. Maybe it was seeing the back of it as I pulled her hair though she'd insist. "Don't be polite, Jim! Pull it like you mean it!" Maybe it was her ass that stole most of the attention. Or maybe it was her tits that jiggled and bounced as she wrecked my shaft.
Maybe it was because she abandoned me on that cold dark snowy night. "Asshole, you don't text dick pics to another woman when you're in bed with me!" And so she said as she smoked her tires and drove off into the creepy night.
She had a busy schedule as an attorney for a public school board and, at first, wasn't looking for anything serious. But when she met my shaft, that all changed rather quickly. She told me the largest she had was a pathetic eight inches. Ugh. That made me sick to my gut. How can any man live life with such a tiny manhood? Why don't they turn that embarrassment inside out into a faggot-gina? Ugh. Questions, questions. But she didn't mind my strange pondering out loud. Once she said, "Jim, you can tell me you're an alien for all I care, just keep that dick coming."
And for some odd reason, I developed feelings for her.
I had a one-date rule - meaning, show up, and my cock is yours. That was just enough time to get my dick wet and move on to the next score. But with muffin face, we had a connection. We didn't go out to eat. We didn't hold hands and walk laps in a park. What we had was nasty shit-smelling sex without the worries of catching STDs. We shared our test results at that first meeting. And within an hour, her ankles were pinned down to a bed adjacent to her ears, me pounding her vagina into a puddle of pussy juices.
Muffin face was petite and slender, like a tall midget, built like a cheap stripper. But she always dressed like a lawyer. You know what I mean --- trousers, necktie, suit coat, penny loafers, her long night-black hair tied into a bun. She had what I like to refer to as a sheboon booty, plumped and wide, but I like how it paddled my dick when I punch that shit hard, nicca. What up?
When it came to me and muffin face, I didn't need much.
I didn't need money because she paid for everything. I didn't need to suck my own dick; she did that for me. I didn't need to feed myself; she would feed me with a spoon and folk. I was her baby. Ugh. After reading what I just typed makes this sound rather disturbing. A grown man fed like a big muscular baby? Ugh. Anyway, I didn't need anyone but her.
And she never asked anything of me, either. Well. Except for not sending dick pics to other women while in bed with her. Ugh.
When we were together, we joked a lot about people's handicaps like men's short heights and bald heads while doing shots of tequila, ended our brief time together with me fucking her in her ass, or vice versa.
It was perfect.
But I fucked that up. Why couldn't I resist taking pictures of my dick? Why couldn't I not send other women those pics? Why? Why? Why?
Ugh. That was pretty dramatic there with all those whys. As if there was regret eating at me like a rat sinking its teeth into a homeless person's half-eaten donut in the back of a lipstick alley.
She was gone.
