Volume II: Dragon Onesie

Date: December 29, 2016

Time: 4:07 pm

Name: Dragon Onesie

Size: Decent                    

 

I can’t have nice things. I feel like at this point, this has been pretty well established. This story, is obviously a testament to that fact, and in fact kick-started my indefinite dick hiatus.

I had been speaking to a guy, who we’ll just call “Tony”. Now, I was also speaking to every other 20-35 year old black male within the Greater Toronto area, so this was meant to be a good ole fashioned fuck n chuck, however Tony apparently thought differently.

Tony and I had been messaging back and forth through WhatsApp for a few weeks. Now usually, I would only keep in contact with a guy for like a week before planning to do the do, after which I would immediately block them, or keep them around for future use depending on how the dick appointment went. It was a little strange to keep in contact with one person for so long, but considering the fact that I was still getting the sausagé on a regular basis, I didn’t pay it any mind.

The night before we were supposed to meet up he messages me, and coerces me into dirty talking, which I despise so very much that I had to type with one eye closed, as to not read the horrible smut my whore fingers were typing. That did 0 for me in the pants department, but he was into it so fine. I really am such a giver. He threw me a few times though, with mention of us both only having one partner

 

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Yeah, ok bud. 

So anyways he comes to get me the next day (I am very late because I am me), and he has a super nice car. This doesn't necessarily matter cause I'm not trynna catch husband right now, but good to know. I open the car door and immediately go "whoops". 

His face is alright, but where the hell is that delicious ass body that I had been sent pictures and videos of?!

 

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I was very *hand-under-chin-confused emoji*. He starts talking and has a Nigerian accent and a little bit of a stutter, which I think came from nervousness. He was babbling about what music he was playing (the song that's playing in the background of that snap chat filter with the sunglasses "I can be your lifesaver" or some shit, and I'm just thinking of how I didn't even know that was a real song), and all I could think of is to tell him that it's not... that... deep.... 

Based on the flow of the conversation, and how not ok his music selection was (nigga was playing Zayn like... huh) I knew immediately that this would not go well. 

First sign of this was when he tried to hold my hand as he drove. Except he was too pussy to actually grab my hand, so he just held on to my middle fingernail...

 

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It was growing abundantly clear to me that I had (once again) made a series of unfortunate whore mistakes:

#1: I broke my rule of only hooking up at my place and

#2: I somewhere along the line, have apparently made it seem as though this was a fucking date.

At this point he is pulling up to his house after a painfully awkward car ride (during which he jokingly tells me that he was 4'8; I almost leaped through the car window). 

We get into his place and I am absolutely green with envy at his layout and color scheme, like his bathroom was burnt orange - I LIVE. I bee-line towards his TV because I will do most anything for cable television (like 15% the reason why I even came). While I watch Family Feud, he disappears into his bedroom, and I wonder absentmindedly if he's going to murder me. Honestly, a little embarassing to die at a dick appointment, but whatever I had a good enough run. So I wait. 

He finally emerges and sits beside me. He kisses me and the second his lips touch mine I go

 

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Y'all.... I am a simple girl, ok? I truly do not require very much at all from these men but I expect you to fucking know if your lips are appropriate for kissing.

Now I've had bad kissers, unfortunately I've had to deal with quite a few, but this was uncharted territory. This man had licked his bottom lip so much, that the layer of dead skin there had become very wet and soggy. I could distinctly feel the texture difference and the line where that cold wet strip of dead skin separated his lips from mine

 

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I almost went into cardiac arrest. It was easily one of the grossest things I've experienced to date, and coming from me, that is not ok. I stayed very,very still and waited for him to stop (He was also a shit kisser. Of course). 

After that he actually asked who could get head first, to which I responded "Me". Obviously. 

Truth be told it wasn't awful, I just kept thinking of his bottom lip skin, which made it very difficult to really get into it. When it was my turn, he did this standing push up move straight into the back of my throat and I'm thinking a) I know you saw that on PornHub and b) Relax.

Throughout this whole thing he kept almost all his clothes on, which was fine by me cause I already accepted the fact that his body was not what I thought it was, but then he took off his pants and my lort. This man had the skinniest, thinnest legs I had ever seen. Like two of his made one of mine. Spaghetti legs, match stick legs, Benny Hinn healed him, praise the Lord legs. Man looked like a fucking antelope. 

Again, I don't want to body shame anyone for the way the were born BUTTTT there was a clear and distint difference between pictures and reality in this case. Finessed again. 

 

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The sex itself is miraculously short lived (no one even came, least of all me), and at the first appropriate moment, I put my shirt back on. At the very least there's still a TV here, so I could still something out of this whole deal. 

After leaving for a moment to change, Tony comes back and joins me on the couch. His hand slides on to my upper thigh 

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I wanted to pull him in and softly whisper "I'm not your bitch" directly into his ear canal. I sat still and ignored him, thinking of how much Steve Harvey kinda looked like a Mr. Potato head.

He then tries to turn my head to kiss him and his casket-ready lips NOPE, I kept my neck stiff as shit and asked if we could just keep watching TV. He backs up, and I text three friends asking them to call and pretend to be my mom.

In the time that I'm waiting for someone to respond, he tries to get my attention, even going so far as to touch my hair (!!!) until I finally had enough. 

I make up some story about needing to go home, and he agrees to drive me back. He disappears in his room again, and I assume he's going to change or get his coat. He emerges from his room about 10 minutes later, in a fucking dragon onesie. I looked up at him from my phone like

 

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Please take me home. 

Once we're in the car, he tries to put his hand on my thigh a few times, and I had to resist the temptation to slap his fingers. 

The very millisecond his car stopped in front of my apartment, I got out with an immediate swiftness cause na, 

Dragon Onesie still hits me up till this day, even asking once if he was terrible. You were, Dragon Onesie, You were.