Memory of my dream was hazy, but thinking of my humiliating appearance reminded me of something in the now scarcely glimpsed narrative. The door slamm...d. I grunted back to consciousness, and then groaned with the pain of wakefulness. Drool spilled from my mouth and I tried to catch it on my chin - the darting motion of my neck bringing a moment's cramp - but failed. A light shone, reflecting, I guessed, from two floors below. I heard him moving around, the rattle of keys and plastic. My heart. She even pulled up pictures she kept on her phone of some of her lovers, all of which were very well endowed and most of which were black. The whole time I'm thinking I should be upset or downright angry, but in reality I was getting more excited with every word she said. She eventually left after giving me a pity handjob after she told me that she would never let anything that small inside her. I was so turned on by what had happened I was masturbating furiously replaying every word she had. More

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