Morgan's tale of sex and frolic

Let me tell you a tale as it unfolds of a girl's experiences most true and profound. She is a girl of 28, a worldly and educated sort who once upon a time had the convenience of falling into a great and spiraling love, an almost mythical kind of love (mirroring those of the Greek gods), which would eventually end in an equally thunderous and tumultuous way. Since her unprecedented heartbreak, she has been meeting and cavorting with several young male companions, usually with the assistance of her sophisticated friend, Sauvignon. Her name: Morgan. Her ambition: lawyer. Her bad luck: men.
The tale must be told, of Morgan's experiences with the opposite sex, since her union with her first love was brought to an end. These experiences are bound to shock, marvel and astonish, but alas, they must be told, as they are all based on true events. There must no doubt be a force trying to reckon with Morgan. It is only a wonder what kind of karma she must have pissed off.

The tale begins...

Tuesday, 2 November 2010

Baklover

We watched Anchorman with the subtitles on. As we lay there, side by side, I could sense his contemplation. How much distance should he maintain? Should there be subtle touching? Should he just grab Cynthia then and there? He was awkward and fidgety. I could tell he was using laughter as an opportunity to inch closer and closer. I didn't mind. I had already downed four glasses of red wine and was ready for the physical stuff. Eventually, we were spooning. Nice. I like a bit of spooning.
From the embrace, I felt the fast-paced racing of his heart. It was beating at such an alarming rate, I thought it was going to explode. Now this is why drinking is beneficial: it has a calming and soothing effect and helps one to get into a groovy mood. I guess such wisdom is lost on pious willies, however.

A few kisses around the neck and ear area and I was ready to eat him for supper. It wasn't long before we got tucked into some heavy petting. I was taken by surprise when my devout Muslim companion started tugging at my clothes. He went straight for the bra, ignoring the three layers I was wearing on top. Then came the jeans, the socks, and everything else. I was definitely going to get some sex tonight.

It was disappointing.

He had a cute pecker, but that's all it was. It lacked the manly, solid girth I desire in a man. After seeing it and touching it, and after a few minutes of Cynthia getting acquainted with it, I asked for a break. I lay back down beside him and pretended to fall asleep. He sought my attention by sucking on my face and disturbing me. This continued for a good ten minutes. I lay there with my eyes shut, feigning slumber; he licked, kissed and sucked on my chin, cheeks and lips. The second he tried talking to me in his sophisticated English, that was it for me, I had to ask him to leave.

As he dressed himself, he kept his gaze on me. With every (single bloody) item of clothing, he insisted on coming towards me to kiss me passionately (unilaterally of course - I was still feigning exhaustion).

When he finally left, I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately got on the phone to Smarty.
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