3 December 2011

Tequila Mockingbird

A year has flown by. But whilst its fresh in my mind, I must relay to you the story of James.

I met James in Freshers week this year. My attraction to him lay in my belief that he was a fledgling fresher, fit for the pecking. His selection of moles and oddly placed tooth made him what I thought to be an easy target. After a not so quick game of tonsil tennis, he was back at mine and sucking my nipples. My face ended up on his mammoth (well you can guess what), quicker than you could squawk. With my nipples now hard and the swelling of intense longing in my vagina, I remembered I was yet again on my period. I suddenly invented the rule of 'no boys upstairs on the first encounter'.

I won't keep you in suspense and I'll move straight on to our second meeting, where the barrier to my bedroom had been well and truly lifted. I created an elaborate ruse for my prey, having organised a house party merely to lure him into my Venus fly trap. With a few flaps of my wings, he had me pinned against the wall, my legs wrapped around his muscular torso as he licked my face. I was suddenly aware at the speed that we were going at and decided to slow things down. James rebelled against this ruling and decided to force himself on me (playfully I should add). What happened next was almost too embarrassing to bare. I ended up fumbling and lost my footing, ending up face first on the insensitive wooden floor of my bedroom, with James looming above me, cackling to himself, whilst not-so-subtly undressing.

Not even bothering to help me up, he decided that the harsh wooden floor was good enough for him and mounted me like a jockey on his prize-winning thorough-bred. As a creature of the night I reveled in the evening's antics, locked in my room for twelve hours without a wink of sleep. My body was stretched to the limit, and it was only later that I realised just how many positions we maneuvered into. At one point I was planking on his face. Planking on his face. Interesting. Even more lovely was the eight-hour fingering that left me red raw. And I didn't even orgasm. His efforts were in vain.

He left in the morning, leaving behind a cheeky wank stain in the shower, and a sore, limping Birdie. My limp turned into something more sinister, but I'll leave that for next time...

Much Xmas love,

~ Birdie xoxo