The Chair

I don't really have a lot of interesting things to say when I'm not being a complete and utter asshole, and so I decided I'd retell a story I alluded to in an earlier post. I had a girlfriend who I gave the nickname Facial for all blog mention. This is kind of silly because she wasn't particularly fond of the act for which she is named, but I have it on tape, and so that's what came to mind.

Heh. Came.

Anyway, her parents hated me from day one. Just, the instant they knew I existed, they hated my guts. Even before I was decorating her face, even before I was defiling her and she was moaning my name and clenching her toes. The feeling was mutual.

Her parents split up, but didn't get divorced, about six months before we broke up. Her dad decided he was going to move in with his mom (!) who lived across the nation. For a variety of reasons, things were rocky between us, so things ended between us pretty smoothly.

I visited her when they were packing to leave. Her dad went to get either the trailer that they were going to put his car on, or the actual U-Haul. I don't really remember -- it isn't relevant -- but he wasn't there when I arrived. We were talking in her room, and because she was leaving, possibly forever, a little naughty touching started in her room.

But an idea occurred to me. Because I HATED that bastard. I lured her into the living room, and sat in HIS FAVORITE CHAIR. Oh yes. This is going there. She straddled me and the touching and such continued, and before long, her shirt was off, then her bra, then she stood up and everything was off and my jeans mysteriously came unzipped.

Long story less wordy, I fucked her in his chair. Or rather, she rode me until her toes curled up and her thighs twitched.

Twice.

So every time a situation reminds me of her, I think of that chair, and her asshole father who hated me, and I think: I hope he's sitting there RIGHT NOW.

Posted by at September 18, 2006 02:55 PM | TrackBack