What kind of sex would you like to have right now? Part 4

The kind that tests the structural integrity of select pieces of furniture. I give the console table in the entryway at best a 40% probability of surviving, though I'm far more confident that the kitchen table can go the distance.

Um. I should probably clarify that I'm talking about having sex - with a woman - on top of those pieces of furniture, not fucking the furniture itself. I'm not veeping the credenza or anything.
 
The kind that tests the structural integrity of select pieces of furniture. I give the console table in the entryway at best a 40% probability of surviving, though I'm far more confident that the kitchen table can go the distance.

Um. I should probably clarify that I'm talking about having sex - with a woman - on top of those pieces of furniture, not fucking the furniture itself. I'm not veeping the credenza or anything.
I wondered about those lustful looks you were shooting the dining room table. 🤔
 
You called them date nights, but nothing about them felt romantic.

You said we were going to a show - then pulled into a half-abandoned mechanic shop. Grease on the walls, lights flickering. We were alone for a minute. Then we weren’t.

You said it’d be a chill bonfire. Everyone flaked. Just us, a cooler, and a promise to take it slow. But it was never about me, was it?

You said we were going to the beach. I don’t remember falling asleep, just the heat of the hood, your hands already there.

The air felt too still.
Like someone was holding their breath.
 
You called them date nights, but nothing about them felt romantic.

You said we were going to a show - then pulled into a half-abandoned mechanic shop. Grease on the walls, lights flickering. We were alone for a minute. Then we weren’t.

You said it’d be a chill bonfire. Everyone flaked. Just us, a cooler, and a promise to take it slow. But it was never about me, was it?

You said we were going to the beach. I don’t remember falling asleep, just the heat of the hood, your hands already there.

The air felt too still.
Like someone was holding their breath.
I kinda want to check your oil.

Not even sure what that means. :ROFLMAO:
 
You called them date nights, but nothing about them felt romantic.

You said we were going to a show - then pulled into a half-abandoned mechanic shop. Grease on the walls, lights flickering. We were alone for a minute. Then we weren’t.

You said it’d be a chill bonfire. Everyone flaked. Just us, a cooler, and a promise to take it slow. But it was never about me, was it?

You said we were going to the beach. I don’t remember falling asleep, just the heat of the hood, your hands already there.

The air felt too still.
Like someone was holding their breath.
Five stars with a cherry on top — really well done.
 
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