It was Monday again. The Lions were playing the Bears on Monday Night Football. Gloria and I had a standing date. Tonight's session promised to be a tad more vibrant than past sessions. I'd just come off an easy night.
The previous Friday Gloria had scheduled me for a small batch white woman bachelorette party. The bride was a gorgeous blonde, some sorority queen named Shelly something or other. Shelly showed up at the club with her debutante crew in tow. All of them looked like they could suck a golf ball through a garden hose, to coin a phrase. None of them looked to be of a mind to demonstrate this prowess in public.
The two guys ahead of me got up and performed well. One of them was a faggot. He got up and pranced about so enthusiastically you might have sworn him a pussy fiend. He was not. He had a nice dick, though. I imagine that if the crowd had been all male, he might have gotten several sucks in. This mutherfucker didn't get a single blowjob. He left me with an un-popped crowd. The debs weren't ready for the Closer.
So I get out there and I'm dancing in front of a cold crowd. Of course, when I pulled out my cock they warmed up considerably. Even the faggot came out to bat his eyes lustfully.
I made my rounds from woman to woman. Each of them reached for it. None of them closed on it. They were all afraid to be first. This is typical of a small batch white woman crowd.
I got to the bride and my dick was still dry. She was a little embarrassed for me, after all, these were her GURLZ. Shelly tipped down and took a tepid lick before drawing back. Brave, but still not up to snuff. I needed to get BLOWN. Seeing that I wasn't backing down from my expected tonsil visit, she reached forward to wrap my pud in maw. Her friends screamed, but she immediately pulled back, as if my dick tasted badly.
Excuse me? Is dick supposed to taste like cherry pie?
Sensing my disdain, Shelly tipped forward again and gave me a half-ass guzzle before drawing back again. I wanted to say "Bitch! Get in there and wet me up!! You won't see another dick like this for the remainder of your days!!"
But I didn't. Shelly had paid $2500 for this appearance. When the club closed, I was GONE. Yessir, I was watching the clock.
Finally, two of Shelly's sorors stepped forward to slob my knob in Shelly's stead. Their friends seemed anxious to follow suit. However, 4 a.m. came and the show concluded. I didn't nut. It was an easy night.
This didn't bode well for Gloria. Any man that can fuck through a full football game and goes un-nutted for a week is going to have something dangerous in store the next time his dick encounters pussy.
Gloria met me at the door to perform her standard Monday Night Football penile inspection. She slipped the tip of her tongue into my urethra and sampled it like a discriminating French chef. I actually enjoyed this part. Her tongue was better than a Q-tip. Tonight, Gloria seemed unduly concerned.
"...the FUCK!!!" she opened. "I thought you said it was a small batch party?!!"
Now I was concerned.
"It WAS small batch. White women! What are you talking about?"
"This dick tastes like ASS."
Now I was offended.
"If my dick tastes like ASS, it's YOUR ass. Nobody else's"
"No, this isn't MY ass. Are you SURE you didn't tap one of those small batch crackers and come away with doodihole stain?"
"I BARELY GOT BLOWN!!!" I raged.
"My tongue never lies. You might don't have the clap, but your dick tastes like ASS."
She stood resolutely and marched into the home theater. This time she did not wriggle free of her panties. I followed her. She stopped me in my tracks.
"Chad? ...the FUCK are you following me for? I hope you don't think you gon' git some PUSSY? NOT TUH-DAY!!! You need to see a doctor."
"MY DICK AIN'T SEEN ANY PARTS OF ASS SINCE LAST MONDAY!!" I snarled. "You need to check yo' SELF before you wreck yo' self."
"You LYIN'" she countered.
"I'm NOT lyin'. Maybe it's YOU that needs to get checked."
This caused her to pause. I wasn't her only lover. If I was telling the truth, it was HER ass dealing the dirt. And it followed that, if both of us were dirty, it didn't matter if we had sex tonite. I could see this thought dawning in her eyes.
She pursed her lips decisively before wriggling free of her panties.
The next morning we awakened in each other's arms. Both of us were sticky with semen, north and south. Gloria pushed me away.
"...the FUCK!!!!"
I'd been checked for venereal disease the previous Friday morning before my gig, as per my custom. I had PAPERS testifying to my health. Gloria believed her tongue superceded my papers. She insisted that we both go down to the free clinic.
It turned out that we were both infected with chlamydia. My habit of taking amoxycillin after every sexual interaction was the reason I'd received a clean bill of health last Friday. Apparently, I'd contracted chlamydia the night before. From Gloria. Was she apologetic? No. She was not.
Leaving the clinic together, I commented:
"Well, one of us was dirty last night. And it sure wasn't me."
"Shut the fuck up," she retorted.
"So much for your tongue being all knowing," I mentioned casually.
"Did I or did I not JUST make a suggestion about what you could do with your ignorant commentary? Do your ears work, white boy? ...the FUCK!!!"
We got in my Jeep and drove back to her place in silence. I dropped her off.
"I'll see you next week," she said.
To me, chlamydia is a ticky-tack venereal disease. You get it, you take a pill, it goes away. As a sex worker, it's one of the costs of doing business.