The second installment of my Romantic Monday story. See here for last week’s installment.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he said.
“It’s okay.” Breathe Kerry. And goddammit! close your mouth. My lips pulled up in a wobbly grin.
“It looks like Shoe and your dog like each other. What’s his name? It is a he, right?”
My dog sniffed the little dog, beating my legs with his beefy tail. He turned, and before I could warn the handsome stranger, Sasha whapped him, right in the balls.
He doubled over cursing.
“Sit, Sasha,” I said.
My dog obeyed, planting his wiggly butt on my feet. His body formed a right angle when he sat, and so he rested in this stately pose, observing the damage he had done. A steady glorp glorp came from his tongue licking over his chops.
“I’m really sorry,” I told the man. As the silence stretched, my face got hotter and hotter.
Shoe nuzzled the man’s hand until he patted her. When he finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. “That’s quite a tail.”
“Yeah. I’ve ended up with bruises. Again, sorry.”
“I’ll forgive you, as long as you buy me a beer. After a nut shot like that, I think you owe me a drink. My name’s John, by the way.”
He stuck out his hand. His fingers were warm and firm around mine.
“So, where are you taking me Kerry?”
Back to my place. “Ah… Squirrel Cage?”
“Excellent choice. What time?”
“Seven?” Was he asking me out on a date, or was I asking him?
“Make is seven thirty.” He winked, and then he was gone with his dog.
He turned around. His smile drew me a step nearer. “Tonight, at the Squirrel Cage, at seven thirty, you’re buying me a drink because your dog punched me in the nuts with his meaty ass tail. I’ll see you then.”
My dog got me a date by hitting a cute guy in the balls. I stood, dumbfounded, watching John’s tight ass. Now that he wasn’t in front of me, I could shut my gaping mouth and process what happened.
He was really cute, tall and lanky, just how I liked my men. His nose was a little crooked, and you knew he had a good story about that. He had full sensual lips, and when he smiled, it went all the way up to his pretty blue eyes. I closed mine, fantasizing about that mouth until Sasha nudged me.
I’m having dirty day dreams in a flipping dog park. If I don’t go home and take care of myself, this date is going to be a disaster. He’ll ask me a question, and I’ll just foam a little on the table in reply.
I took Sasha for a few quick loops and hurried home. Looking at the clock, I had an hour and half before my date. I had time to either masturbate or eat. I nibbled on my lip. Horniness or hunger was a tough choice—they both made me irrational. Then again, does it really take that long to make a sandwich? But if I jill off, I’ll need a shower, or he’ll know I was… well, up to something before our date. Jilling off would be in the list of possibilities, I’m sure.
Thanks so much for reading my little story! Visit here for more romance.
Also, yesterday I went to see Don Giovanni. You think this blog is steamy? Go watch some hot opera singers grope each other. I swear, there’s way more dry humping in operas than I remember there being. It’s been three out of the past four.