On Shitting Where You Eat (pt. 1)

If you know me at all, in person or through the interwebs, you’ll know that I’m quite good at shitting where I eat. As in I often take people who I am close with by circumstance (personally or professionally) and make them into my lovers. As in I have extremely poor judgment from time to time (read: ALL THE TIME). It has always worked out for me, in the end at least. Like when my Addiction and I were dating/sleeping together non-exclusively while we worked together, he ended up going for a new employee halfway through our time as employees together, but still ended up coming back to me after a couple months. And I let him because at the time I thought I was in control, but really I was just weak and stupid.

I digress.

This one, the one I want to talk about today, was different. I certainly can’t say I wasn’t attracted to him, because I definitely was, but I also knew that we were not in a situation where we could be fucking around. And by ‘fucking around’ I mean at least not actually fucking in the place that we worked. The place where we worked WITH KIDS. No, no, Bruno.

Bruno is not his name but I just like saying that. In fact he needs a nickname, let’s call him Bruno from now on.

Bruno got me good when he started confiding in me for no reason. He told me everything, including lots of things I never wanted to know, at least not during our first one-on-one time together. He made me trust him because he seemingly trusted me. It freaked me out for 2 reasons: 1) I am not qualified to give advice on the shit he was talking about, and 2) Oversharers often have deeper issues with themselves that I just don’t understand.

I tend to roll with Oversharers pretty often. Not sure why. Not sure if it’s because I let them share, or because they actually trust me. Not sure if they’re like that with everyone. In any case, they’re not my favorite. They generally end up pissing me off because they have no sense of modesty or appreciation. Also, they’re often fucking douchebags.

DO WE SENSE SOME ANIMOSITY HERE? HMMM??

Bruno had some. Some appreciation, that is. He had a lot actually..

For my vagina.

ZING!

He got me drunk and brought me to his room and did the whole ‘just the tip’ thing, except the tip was actually his whole giant throbbing half-black cock in my hand NEXT TO my pussy which gets wet just THINKING about giant throbbing half-black cocks and was this going to end with good decisions and good nights? Absolutely not, but it WOULD end in massive bruises and ongoing orgasms. The bruises were in the shape of his mouth because he would chomp down on my body in places like my chest IN THE SUMMER when I was wearing things like spaghetti strapped dresses and tube tops. The orgasms would end in my complete and utter inability to move or speak. Which, in this case, was a really really good thing.

‘Um. You look happy today. Are those BITE marks??’

‘Nah, bro, they’re just, um, I ran into the door when I was trying to open it?’

I still don’t understand how these things happen to me. I mean, no. There is no other way to get bruises in that shape and placement on one’s body. And there’s no other way to put a stupid half-drunk smile on a girl’s face than with a body-numbing orgasm. Nope.

While I was completely certain it wouldn’t happen again (fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me), it totally did. The next night in fact. There was something about a Japanese condom (no idea, don’t ask) and another thing about shutting the fuck up and enjoying what’s inside me, because OH YEAH there were kids around when this was all happening and I had to please shut the fuck up otherwise the CHILDREN would know I was having ridiculously long and powerful orgasms. Because let’s not forget, when we worked together every day? We were working with kids. They were sleeping in the rooms next to us. OH JOY.

Somehow, between the biting (which I do like a lot, by the way) and the lust surrounding the fact that we SO should not be getting drunk and making the sex while our kids were asleep in the next rooms, we managed to not get caught. In some ways, at the time, I wished we had gotten caught so that our co-workers would know that I got to sleep with the giant throbbing half-black cock.

But they knew. Oh, they knew.

Listening to: Flight Facilities – Crave You