When I pulled into the motel parking lot I glimpsed an unattractive balding man and I was like, "eww, I wouldn't want to have sex with him." And then... he waved me down. Oh god, that was him. But he had the key in hand. He'd already rented the room. I remember when I was learning about sex and abstinence growing up I was taught about girls who had sex after dinner and a date - how they'd almost feel obligated. And our leader would say, "Is sex with you worth $15? Is it worth $50?" And when you thought of it that way - purely numerically - you realize how absurd that pressure is. But NSA is a completely different ballgame. In fact, I've felt obligated to have sex merely after sending a few emails back and forth. Does that make me a slut? Hell yeah, I'm a slut. I'm a dual person. And one half of that is slut.
So into the room we go. We keep the lights dim. But that just makes it feel more creepy to me, under the circumstances. The TV is on and we do a little kissing and squirming around in bed together. Obviously my disgust for him has colored the memory. It wasn't so much that he was unappealing to me. It's that he LIED. I don't know if the picture was him a long time ago or if it wasn't even him. It didn't matter. I never brought it up to him. As things progressed I ask if he has a condom and he says no. Isn't that just the most absurd thing you ever heard of? I mean, even if you didn't want to have sex with a condom. Even if you decided to pressure the woman to have sex without a condom why would you risk not having sex at all, if the woman stood her ground? Which is exactly what happened to this idiot. "We met on Craiglist! Are you crazy?!" I said. A blow job it was.
He had an average sized penis. But that padding of fat at the base made it look smaller. Blow jobs are incredibly boring to me. I mean, I like the reaction a man gives me when I pull down his pants and envelop his dick with my mouth. But anything more than two minutes of that and I want to shoot my brains out. It's not my fault! Blame my lazy ass husband. That's all he ever wants to do. And being the dominant sort of person he is he insists on it and I have to provide it about three times a week. We've been together since I was 16. I'm 34. 18 years X 52 X 3 = 2808. That's how many fucking blow jobs I've given in my life.
So here I am blowing him. Thanking my lucky stars that the TV was on. It was those Celtic girls they play on PBS. The pretty ones with the voices of angels. Unfortunately, now I can never see or hear them again without thinking of that time. Oh well. I never watch them anyway. Interesting note: This will not be the last time that the TV saves me from boring NSA action.
He couldn't cum and we finally gave up. I kept thinking to myself, "Dude, get some viagra". We dressed and headed out to my car where he gave me a hug. On the drive home I just wanted my husband so bad. I wanted to be in his arms on his chest. I felt so disgusting and used by this man. My husband was "my rock". That's the word that kept going through my head. I was temporarily cured from this behavior. I wouldn't meet with another man for three years.