Pulse racing, vision narrowing. Nothing around matters but what you see right in front of you. Brow furrows. Biting lip. Faster. Harder. Welcome to perfection. Everything is right. Speed, control, imagery. It all happens perfectly like a well thought out plan, all leading up to one moment. This moment. And suddenly, your hand's a mess, your tunnel vision fades, your pulse plummets and your eyes droop, while your stroke slows drastically, coming to a halt like a train pulling in to a very disappointing station. Now you're back in your room with a fistful of regret and the crushing knowledge that another kitten has been eaten in your honor, and your guardian angel just had another feather plucked.
That's the feeling I have at least once a day. I spent a little time with a slut recently, she was in my room, not for me, but for my roommate. She drank herself stupid and got to the point that she was showing her breasts every couple of seconds to me and the other three guys in the room during our beer pong game. Later in the night, my roommate reported that she would not be letting him into her panties, despite the heavy making out and groping she had been doing with him and one of the other guys in the room. He then told me that instead of going to the other guy's room for a devil's threesome, she would be going to sleep in his bed. In our room. Where there are no doors. This didn't bother me much, because I only wanted to avoid the sex noises disturbing my sleep. Also, my masturbation. Hadn't jacked off once that day, and despite the relative unattractiveness of the slut, I was generally horny. An hour after I fell asleep, I was awakened by a voice repeating the same phrases over and over again.
"I want to sleep with you. No. I want to sleep with you. I'm with Katy. I'm not drunk I'm sober. I want to sleep with you. I'm with Katy..."
This continued for some time, while my patience was worn thin. Apparently, she thought it was a good idea to drunk dial her ex-boyfriend while she was drunk to the point of almost getting double-teamed by two guys she had just met that day. And she thought it was ok to wake up another guy while making that call. I contemplated getting up and punching her in the face. I also contemplated getting up and telling her to "shut the fuck up, he knows you're out slutting it up, he doesn't want you calling him at 4 in the morning."
I chose the latter, and got up from my bed, boxers clad, and walked over to where she was. In the time it took me to get over to where she was, her repetitive phrases had changed from what they were before, to a now, less crazy:
"What if I just come over there? What if I just come over there? I'm coming over there. I'm coming over there, and if you don't open up, I'm fucking your car up. I'm coming over there, and if you don't open up, I'm fucking your car up..." and repeat x3.
At which point, she donned her pants, and stormed out of our room. I stood there in my underwear, and with a confused look on my face, looked back and forth between my roommate, and our recently exited door. He was sitting up smirking a little at my confusion.
"She called her ex." he told me.
at which point I proceeded to the bathroom and got to that masturbation I missed out on, then back to sleep I went.
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