When I got to my two and a half hour Thursday night lecture it was immediately apparent that I was the only one who forgot it was cancelled. To make matters worse, when I got back to my apartment complex, somebody had taken one of the two spots assigned to our unit, and my girlfriend's Camry was in the other. I drove around until I found a visitor's spot that was a healthy distance from home. I finally reached the door.
On the whole walk I thought to myself, 'I hope Stef left it unlocked so I don't have to fumble with my books and my keys at the door.'
I tried the knob. She did. For once her lack of home security awareness paid off. As soon as I entered I heard the unmistakable rhythmic slamming of wooden headboard against drywall coming from our bedroom. When the door closed it abruptly stopped, followed by a shuffling and my bedroom door was flung open.
"Oh, it's just you." He said.
For some reason it felt like I should apologize for entering my own apartment and interrupting. It was Allen, Stef's new friend from tinder that I'd heard about but not yet met. At about six foot six and nearly 230 pounds he filled my bedroom doorway and, of course, he was naked. His dark skin showed off his physique perfectly. But, of course, I was staring, mouth agape, at the terrifying, ten inch long phallus that was pointing at me menacingly.
"What is it?" came Stef's voice, sounding husky and exasperated.
It was one of those cocks that, I regret to say, I have seen (or I daresay, studied intently) in porn (hell, I could write a thesis). I always wondered where that thick, second shaft comes from that the big guys have running under their main shafts, making their already huge members even bigger. Mine didn't even hold a candle to that redundant accessory alone. I couldn't take my eyes off of it.
"It's your little boyfriend." He chuckled, condescendingly, with an emphasis on the word 'little'. Apparently, they had done some talking in between fucking. Apparently, about me. Still my gaze remained.
This one was dripping with the love of my life's juices. My gorgeous, petite brunette, with the perfect body and innocent doe eyes. Healthy, vascular veins glistening with her essence. Even the testicles were drenched, one of which alone would dwarf my whole package.
"Oooh, tell him to get us some water," she cooed, "and order a pizza!"
"Get us some water." He demanded, "And order a pizza."
He slammed the door and I snapped out of it, "Uh, yeah, okay." I stammered aloud to the closed door.
Soon after the rhythmic pounding resumed. I went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of Poland Spring. I stopped at the bedroom door. I decided it was best to knock. No answer. I knocked again, and again got no answer. Not even a change in the rhythm of the headboard (how does he not need a break?).
So, I took the initiative and entered. I was astounded. There was Stef on all fours with her head against the mattress and her mouth full of linen. Her makeup was streaming down her face as if she had just lost a beloved pet. And behind her he was pumping his full length in and out of her. I would have to do some drywall repair.
