We seemed to constantly be playing a game. One I was losing. I took a big sip of my double vodka and coke. I was tipsy. He wasnt drinking but I needed...to, there was no way I could ender what I was doing to myself by being here. Without being smashed. I loved him. I wanted him. But he was bad for me. He sang along to the oases lyric playing on the stereo behind him, we sat on his bed my legs over him. How many times have you been in love? I asked him, when the song ended. The room spinning. I. How long would I last? Hell, I don’t know sometimes it seemed like half an hour, other times I would blow in under five minutes. And when I did she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, like I was sustenance. Like a baby to a bottle, like a cum craving slut or all of the above. Holding my still rigid dick rubbing the head on her lips. “Does it show? Are they?” she always asked. Michelle was asking about her lips, were they swollen, did she have “Blow-job” lips as she quaintly called them. All. More

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