Not Making This Up

Was I dreaming? Was this really happening? This weekend I had an experience I consider to be the weirdest, most confusing and perplexing encounter of my life. I will do my best to recount this evening as it unfolded.

Asleep and sore. After a day of reffing and coaching, I was sore and tired. I went to bed relatively early only to be awoken by a person jumping on me and snuggling up to me under my covers. In my mind, I wondered how my kid got into my apartment at night. Then I turned over.

A very pretty, very young woman with eye black on looked at me and said, “I am totally fucked up. I must be in the wrong apartment.” Shocked and still half asleep, I stared at her half masted eyes and realized she was not in her right state of mind. She had on a Georgia jersey and a tiny miniskirt. My assumption was that she had been to the football party down the hall and had lost her way.

She kissed and asked, “do you want this?” She grabbed my wrist a put my hand up her skirt. Then she passed out. Now I know what you are thinking. No way! You are lying. Truly I am not.

Sitting up in bed looking at her for the next several hours had rendered me baffled, How did she get in? Who was she? How old was she? How do I get her up? Is her boyfriend going to come in and brain me with a bat? Where is my huge wad of cash I just received from family over the holidays?

So after checking my front door to find it locked I went to my back deck door and realized how she got in. I locked the door and checked to see if anything in my apartment was missing. Everything seemed undisturbed. I texted a close friend and asked her what I should do. I thought about waking her up with water. I thought about waking her up with a loud whistle in her ear. I thought about looking at her phone to find out where she lived. And yes, I thought about taking advantage of her.

She was fit, small and attractive. I decided that this was a test of character, and that, in her totally vulnerable state, I should take care of her and try to get her to somewhere safe after she wakes up. I put on some shorts and a tshirt so I would not be tempted and after a while I fell asleep.

Good Morning!! I awoke to a strange sensation. Looked down and I saw the top of a girl’s head working on my Johnson. Hello! She was talented and clearly it was not her first time giving head. Several things went through my mind, not the least of which was …What the hell is happening here??!! And how should I proceed. Well, let’s just say I let it continue. About thirty minutes later she picked up her head, sat up and said, “you are really gonna make me work for it, aren’t ya.” I told her she was good, I enjoyed it, but I rarely climax to blow jobs. She said, well, let’s find out what you like. She took the jersey off and dropped the skirt and I got up to get a condom. When I returned she said , “no condoms.” I was truly in a bind. I am a safety guy by nature and know that one bad move can ruin your life. So I told her that it had to happen. She explained that she was allergic to latex. We both realized we had come to an impasse. Then she said very quietly, “You can use my backdoor.” Hello!!!

She got on all fours, reached around and guided me there. My mind was racing, and I keep coming back to the question, “is this really happening?” But the question that came out of my mouth was, “how old are you?” She looked back at me straight in the eye and replied, “old enough.”

About an hour later she was asleep and I was looking at my ceiling trying to process what had just transpired when I heard the song “Bang Bang” coming from her phone. The phone read “home” and I answered it. A very worried woman with a thick Hispanic accent asked me who I was. I told her that her daughter was here and she should come and get her. I informed the woman that she was asleep and gave her my address. Twenty minutes later, the girl stumbled out of my door receiving a volley of profanity laced tirades in Spanish from her mother.

When I had opened my door, her Mom had looked at me with utter confusion. My age, my race and my general appearance was clearly not what she had expected. I had dressed my “guest” the best I could, but it was fairly clear that something had transpired. Her Mom had given me a strange look that I am still trying to translate. It was a combination of…good for you, shame on you and can I have next.

I don’t know her name. She does not know mine. This really happened.

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