Every day was the same. I woke up, took a shower, put on makeup, went to class, got home, drank a glass of wine, or 3, watched Friends on Netflix, and went back to bed. Rinse and fucking repeat.
I don't really know what I was expecting. I know that guys don't look at me like they look at those sorority sluts. The ones that got invited to every party under the sun. I just don't know why they didn't look at me AT ALL.
I'm NOT ugly. I'm average. But guys just don't treat you the same when you're not a 10/10 in the looks department. My combination of a petite frame, run of the mill white girl face, and straight black hair doesn't turn many heads I suppose.
I've finally deleted Tinder. I think the last straw was when one "nice guy" I found, who seemed genuine, sent me a dick pic the minute I gave him my snap. Why are all guys so fucking disgusting? I can't stand it anymore!
They seem to pull out all the grand gestures for the pretty girls. Wanting to go on cute dates, taking them to dinner, paying for everything, but not for me. God knows they don't do ANY of that shit for me. It seems like all they think I'm good for is a cheap fuck. A pump and dump. The perpetual plan B. I've almost given up on the entire male species.
Well, almost.
I met this group of guys who moved in next door to me at the apartment complex I live at. They know me because two of us are in the same professional organization at the business school I go to. I decided I needed to join to try to improve my job prospects once I finally get out of this cesspool of a school.
James was the typical asshole type. Only trying to score a nice piece of ass for the night and not thinking twice about the consequences of using someone. That didn't really matter to me because obviously, they weren't into me anyways. Mark was nice, a little bit of a meathead, but nice. He played rugby and dated a sorority girl, but he actually was a nice person, which I appreciated.
The last guy who lived there was intriguing to me. His name is Thomas. He checked all the boxes. He was very tall (probably around 6'4), he was very nice and introverted, best of all he didn't seem to give off the typical "I only want to fuck you and leave" vibes the first two gave off. A combination that truly is a rarity these days.
Our two apartments became friends over the next couple of months. It started slow. We talked because we had the one common interest a first. I'd ask if they could give me a ride to our meetings, they'd ask if they could store extra liquor in our fridge. Typical college stuff.
It eventually grew to us playing small pranks on each other. Once I came home to find our welcome mat had moved 10 feet down the hall. In retaliation I printed a tasteful picture of a large, naked black man and taped it to their door. A moved that earned me "bro points" and a featured spot on their snap story. We enjoyed trying to one up each other.
It got to the point where we became pretty good friends. Bonding over complaining about professional events and our respective classes. My roommate and I would come over and watch movies with them occasionally. I didn't really want to hang out with all of them more, but I would take any opportunity I could to see Thomas again.
I relished learning more about him, even though he didn't seem to ask me many personal questions. He was a serious basketball player in high school until he tore his acl his senior year. He wanted to keep playing in college, but there wasn't any interest from big schools. He decided to focus on his studies.
I always had a thing for athletes, even if every time I went for them they treated me like absolute shit and threw me in the garbage after they got done using me like a sex doll. I got abused time and time again when I was younger by this type of person, but like a junkie looking for their next fix, I had to have more.
Although, getting to know Thomas I found he wasn't like that at all. He was a complete gentleman to me every time we interacted. In fact, he was kind of socially awkward. A very quiet person who seemed to only care about basketball, accounting (his major), and video games. Most of his time was spent in the library, the gym, or his bedroom.
We got along well enough, but it seemed like our conversations only scratched surface level details. Basics about our backgrounds, what bullshit I dealt with that week, or he would chat with his friends about sports nonsense.
Even though I didn't really understand him yet, this was a welcomed change for me. I wanted him so badly.
I could imagine myself there in his room. Him playing games and me laying lazily on his bed, watching Netflix on my laptop. After a while, I would switch to watching something more... intimate and begin feeling myself, he would glance over and then look away quickly.
His shyness was a cute part of his charm. However, he would eventually become too aroused by my antics and grow more and more confident. His shyness being overwhelmed by his desire for me.
I would be rubbing myself through my cute leggings and shooting him fuck me eyes. Slightly biting my lip. He would leave his gaming chair he had been planted in for hours to come and plant a passionate kiss on my lips. My other hand would wander to the growing bulge in his sweatpants.
He would slowly reach down replace my hand with his. Freeing me up to focus solely on him. I can only imagine how good his big strong hands would feel pressing up against the slim piece of fabric keeping us apart. Rubbing me with gently at first, and applying more strength the more aroused I got.
Still kissing, he would begin removing my shirt and effortlessly undoing my bra strap. I could tell his hands were both powerful and skilled by the way he casually ripped my leggings off. He slowly would slide his long fingers inside me. I want to feel them curl up and stroke my g spot. Getting farther inside me than any guy before and sending waves of pleasure through my body. His long finger preparing me to take his even longer cock.
His other hand squeezed my breast hard, just the way I liked it. He would pinch and rub my nipples. This in combination with him constantly hitting my g spot would drive me wild and I would cum all over his hand, without him even having to take off his shorts.
But as usual, one orgasm isn't enough. I need constant stimulation. I was hungry for his dick.
With him standing over the bed and me still reeling from my orgasm, I would rip his shorts down. Revealing his massive cock. Much bigger and harder than any of the other posers I've had the displeasure of fucking. None of them even cared enough about my pleasure to bother getting me off anyways.
I would eagerly take his massive cock down my throat, more than willing to pay him back for his expert performance. His powerful fingers playing me like a violin. I would put one hand at the base of his dick, my hand barely being able to wrap all the way around because of his massive girth, and the other rubbing my clit to make sure I will still be wet enough when he rips me in half momentarily.
I struggle to fit all of him inside of my mouth. I want to show him how much I love him, so I pull him in far past my gag reflex. He lets out a soft moan as I do this, only encouraging me to push myself further beyond my limits.
After what seems like an eternity of him shoving his fat dick to the back of my throat, he pulls out. Leaving me gagging, spit and precum oozing down my chin, looking up meekly for his approval.
"Lay back my love," he says in a deep voice as he climbs onto the bed.
I smile hungrily, I couldn't wait for him to open me up like I've never been before. He pushes me on my back and slaps his fat dick on top of my stomach, showing me how far inside me he's about to be. His dick reached almost a half foot beyond my bellybutton. I quivered from the sheer anticipation of how good I will feel when he's inside me.
