A Bright Moon

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Amateur

I’ll let you in on a little secret: Writers are lonely, little people. I know, I know. When people think of the writer, they think of the Stephen Kings and J.K. Rowlings of the world, but the fact is the writer is stuck inside his room writing a story no one’s ever going to read and getting paid about a grand for it. That’s a lonely life. I should know. I live it.

The writer doesn’t live a glamorous life but he lives a life. Occasionally, letting girls know you’re a writer gets you some pussy. Of course, you can’t tell her what you write or she’ll kick you to the curb. No girl’s going to say, “I’ve always wanted to fuck a writer for the Washington Post” or “His latest article on why the corporate tax is bullshit really got me wet.”

I got a story about picking up a girl with the whole writer schtick. It was last year when I made the stupid decision to study at some two-bit college in the city. The city fucking sucks. You got homelessness, you got urban poverty, you got drugs, all that stuff. It’s always stuff the mayor will deal with just like the mayor before him and the mayor before that guy. Anyway, back to the story.

She and I went to the same English class, a class studying contemporary literature. That week, we were studying the works of Charles Bukowski. I saw her from across the room, a cute blonde Asian girl who always wore leather jackets and torn jeans. She had a tattoo running up her neck, a blue dragon spitting water. After class that day, I introduced myself.

She told me her name was Gucci Song or, at least, that’s what she went by among friends. Her real name was Song Mingjyut and she was from Hong Kong. She had a heavy accent, making her mobilbahis güvenilir mi voice go up and down like a damn rollercoaster, but she was as fluent as I was. I thought her accent was adorable.

I’ve never been one to swoon a girl off her feet with a song or use my silver tongue (my tongue was more of a tarnished bronze) so I pulled the old “I’m actually a writer” schtick. I tell her I’m writing a poem and I need a muse and I thought she’d make a great one. We could even use the opportunity to study up on our Bukowski and his poems. She bought it. We agreed to meet at the park, a nice place where all the couples met before they fucked each other like a bunch of Quiverfull rabbits.

We met up at the park around noon, between my British Lit class and her African Studies class. She came dressed in a tank top, showing off her massive tits. I noticed her neck tattoo descended down her right tit, past her cleavage. I hoped to see how far that dragon went down.

We started talking and studying and, based on how she was talking, I got the idea she could read me like a book and knew my every intention. We got to chatting about Hong Kong and how she thought it should be independent until the Republic of China ruled over the mainland again. I told her I could see her point but, personally, I thought Hong Kong should remain part of the People’s Republic until the Republic ruled the mainland. She told me that was the equivalent of asking slaves to remain in chattels until, eventually, slavery was abolished. She said she’d much rather live under British rule than live under Chinese rule.

We agreed to continue this conversation in her dorm, mobilbahis empty since her roommate was away on some cheerleading thing. We had about an hour and a half until our next classes. Once in her dorm, her own intentions came out. She slipped onto her knees and began telling me about how she’s long thought I was cute and how she’s been meaning to ask me out. It didn’t come off as that bullshit some girls (hell, some guys) spew when their horny. It seemed…genuine.

She unzipped my pants and threw them onto her bed. She started to suck my hard cock through my boxer-briefs. It felt kind of weird but was kind of amazing. The way she was sucking, she could take almost my whole cotton-covered cock in her mouth. It was a surreal feeling.

Mingjyut did this thing that genuinely impressed me. She used her teeth to pull my underwear off (of course, I had to raise up a little to give her some help) then ran her tongue up my leg before swallowing my cock. As she started throating it, she started taking off her tank top. To my surprise, she didn’t wear a bra and, once free, her tits were amazing. She was like a Chinese Hitomi Tanaka (though that might be a tiny, little exaggeration).

Her dragon tattoo curved around her breast and went straight past her stomach and ended at her pussy. The dragon’s tail was an arrow, pointing at the tight hole I knew I needed to fill with my cock. I found this out when she stripped off the rest of her clothing.

She used her tongue to massage my cock as it went into her warm, tight throat then she started doing this little hum to massage it even more and that felt great. It felt like using one of those vibrators on mobilbahis giriş your cock’s head. She kept at this for a little while until I told her I wanted to explore her dragon tattoo.

She laid on her bed and I used my soaking wet cock to trace her tattoo (not the most sexually hot thing but she enjoyed it). I went down her neck, down her chest, and across her stomach until I came to her pussy and began pounding away. Her cute little moans and occasional Cantonese swear words were my fuel. I pounded the fuck out of her although it wasn’t as enjoyable because we used a condom. I know, I know, but when you’re in college, anyone can have anything until you check. So, it’s better to use some protection.

As we were fucking, my little romantic heart forced me to start making out with her. Her lips tasted like my dick and cherries, the taste of her lip balm. It was actually a heartwarming experience. As a writer and a college student, loneliness is in my DNA. It was nice to be so intertwined with someone.

We couldn’t do anything rough. A bruise or a hickey wouldn’t look good in class. That didn’t stop me from calling her a bitch or referring to her as my slut. I threw in a “dong fu,” some Cantonese I’d picked up for just the occasion and it drove her wild. Soon, we collapsed onto each other, sweaty and tired.

We had fifteen minutes until class. She slipped the condom off my dick and threw it in the trash, telling me that next time we’d get tested together and she’d swallow my nut thereafter. She got dressed in a red shirt and some really short black shorts and helped me get dressed and we left together. We exchanged numbers and I told her I’d see her later.

Since then, me and Mingjyut have seen each other regularly, pretty much dating at this point. We’re both lonely people and it feels nice to enjoy each other’s company, even if sex isn’t involved. Writing is a lonely job and sometimes it’s nice to have someone to be lonely with.

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