“You want another?”
And I do. What happens here is, after all, not reality. I can drink to my heart’s content, fuck a man within moments of first laying eyes on him. I can say outrageous things, be this brave woman, this is not real. So he brings me another, pours himself another whiskey.
“Hey, I could stir it with my dick,” he says, eyes mischievous.
I wonder if he would, know I would drink it anyway, would suck the liquid off him, it would taste like our sex. The thought of it sends a tiny shockwave down through my stomach into my pussy.
He brings me my drink, walks the few feet from where I’m sitting on his couch (am I really sitting here? The last day seems a blur, this can’t really be happening.) I am barely dressed, and of course, I don’t care, don’t care he can see me, I’m not real, this is not real. I don’t do this kind of thing.
I see him, looking, his mind working, always toward the evitable destination – sex. He gets a smirk on his mouth, one that will become familiar, but now, is just another interesting quirk.
“What if I want you in mine?” he asks, and I’m not sure what he means. So he clarifies. “What if I want my drink to taste like your pussy?”
Which takes my breath, but I’m all cool, as this isn’t real, so I am not going melt. The liquor, sleep deprivation and endorphins from some long awaited sex have me loose, I just laugh, yea, what if he does want his drink to taste like pussy. My pussy.
His smirk turns into a walk, putting his drink down on the coffee table, there is no hesitation, he knows what he is going to do, and he does. He doesn’t ask, he spreads my legs and puts his mouth to me like a starving man. I lose myself in the sensations, his tongue ever so slowing tracing every crease and fold, his fingers reaching up into me, my god, I am thanking every woman who ever told him ‘here, yes, that’s how’ and I am lost.
But, he stops, and I am slammed back into my unreal reality. I slowly open my eyes, he is standing over me, grinning, picking up his drink from the coffee table. Looking me dead in the eye, he uses his fingers, the fingers he just pulled out of my dripping pussy, to stir his whiskey.
He sucks the liquor off his fingers, drinks from the glass. Closes his eyes, as if savoring the flavor.
I like this unreality. I think Wonderland is just the place for me.