Eight months without sex is nothing. Sharma’s friend Naomi had been celibate for three years when she met her current beau. And he happened to be a perfect match, both physically and sexually. Naomi is 5’2 and rail thin with a natural afro fit for the Gods. Her beau Larry is a husky 6’6, with a protruding belly and wirey, ginger hair peeking through his button holes. Just her type.
“I hope his schlong is thick and long.” Eight months of celibacy will give even the most modest woman gutter-brain. Sharma’s hormones were doing backflips. There would be no three year wait, especially not with this fine specimen she met online. “This butternut squash soup is the bomb, but I really just want him to squash his nuts in my mouth.” The internal dialogue went on.
Tyson’s heavy Nigerian accent made it easy to tone him out; she found his words hard to dissect at times. But his charm and chiseled physique made up for strained communication and overall repetitiveness. Sharma let out an occasional chuckle and a “oh wow, that’s interesting…” here and there.
“I bet he wears Magnums… Damn, I wanna feel his member in my mouth.”
Sharma kept her composure. Underneath the facade, her heart beat wildly as she squeezed her plump, generous thighs together under her dress, shielding a bare, protruding lady part.
“You know, Sharma, you’re more beautiful in person. Your pictures don’t do you any justice. I’m pleasantly surprised.” Tyson’s teeth showed. He grinned like the chesire cat in Alice in Wonderland.
The waiter whisked by briefly to make sure they were fine.
“Tyson, I don’t know where this is going. You seem like a decent guy… and I have no problem seeing you again. I don’t usually do this, but I… I… I really wanna fuck you. Tonight. Is the feeling mutual? “