I love you. Don't call me.

I came in. She told me she would leave the door unlocked. She was in a nighty or a teddy. Whatever it was, it was made of satin and lace. I didn't notice right away. I don't find those get-up as flattering to the female figure as nudity or g-string underwear.

I was in deep shit. She went straight for the dick. "I don't think that's a good idea." She started crying. I had a slice of pizza. She threw a tantrum. I let her.

I decided I would fuck her. Didn't want to. Figured it could wait until after the pizza. "You don't want to," she said. I didn't

"Of course i do." She bitched and said her piece while I eased it in. She shut up. A cock's the only thing that'll do that. Shut 'er up. Then, the smell of ass. She must've been drinking all day. She'd always get all stank-ass whenever she'd do that.

"Didn't you want to bend me over something?" Not anymore.

What a piece of work.

I got the message the next day. "It's not worth it if you don't want to fuck me anymore."
"I'd like to be your friend. Can we do that?"
"My husband would kill me just for talking to you. It has to be worth it. It's not worth it if I don't get anything."
"Dick?"
"That's right."
"I love you."
"I love you too. Don't call me."