Thank you for today. I can still feel you inside me.
I like carrying you around with me and feeling your cum squish out of my pussy…
Yeah. I like leaving my nut in you. Next time I’m going to make you squeeze a fresh load out of your pussy and spoon feed it to you.
Mmmm… I’ll pretend it’s ice cream – the chocolate kind.
I’ve been so busy writing about Mick and Alaska that I’ve neglected to keep you updated on Mr. Nice Guy.
Since my initial post about him, we’ve had 2 more ‘dates’.
Date #2 was on a Saturday afternoon. We went to a Mongolian barbecue downtown and then picked up some giant pieces of cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory on our way back to his car.
We sat in his car and got high and ate our desserts together and then went for a little walk to burn off a few of the extra calories as well as our buzz.
So… My Friday night date that was cut short… Yeah…
But it started off splendidly!
For some quick background. Mr. Nice Guy works in the same office as me, just a different division (not like Mitch, who is an independent contractor working directly for my division – and, incidentally, has a girlfriend now. Go Mitch!). So, we have worked ‘together’ for the past 3.5 years and see each other frequently – more so in the last several months leading up to Friday’s date.
The first couple of years we would cross paths and have brief general conversations in the ‘lunchroom’. To be honest, he creeped me out a good part of that time because he was always staring at my boobs (to be fair, they are pretty nice! 😉 ). But, once we started talking more and discovered we had more in common, he stopped looking at my chest so much and started talking to my face.
He knows quite a bit about my most recent ‘dating’ blunders: Alaska, Rock Star, most of the unsuccessful dates in-between…
He’s been divorced for several years and hasn’t gone out with anyone for over four. Apparently, all he could find were completely insane women, so he stopped bothering to look. (A lot like how I am starting to feel, as well as a few of the rest of you, based on reading your blogs 😦 )
He’d been hinting at it for a while, but he isn’t my type (too short), so I kept avoiding the subject. But, during the week after my Rock Star incident, I asked Mr. Nice Guy when we were actually going to go someplace together outside of work.
Then he asked me on a date…
When it comes to choosing a flavor of ice cream at Baskin-Robbins, I am definitely a “something else entirely” kinda girl (but at home, it’s mostly always chocolate 😉 )
When I was little, there were two places that I remember going to on a regular basis: Pizza Hut and Baskin-Robbins. We went to Pizza Hut almost every Friday night in the winters (in MN those winters lasted about 7 months) and, in the summer (all 3 months of the sweltering humid-heavy-oppressive summer) we would go to Baskin-Robbins on Saturday afternoons.
I remember the first time I discovered that Daiquiri Ice was one of the fantastic 32 flavors at Baskin-Robbins. I was seven, and definitely old enough to know that a daiquiri was a “grown-up” drink. That’s why I just had to try it! The entire time we were waiting in line I was thinking, “My parents are never going to let me order that. That’s a ‘grown-up‘ flavor.” When I was ordering, I felt like such a rebel choosing a flavor whose name was an alcoholic drink. I glanced back at my father, knowing that he was going to tell me to “Pick another flavor. That one is not appropriate for little girls.” When he didn’t say anything, I turned over to see what my mother had to say. Likewise, she was completely un-phased by my selection. Strange… But, ♫AWESOME♫!
I watched with hopeful eyes (and watering mouth) as the server placed my scoops of pale green bliss on that sugar cone of divinity… And, when we sat down to enjoy our afternoon delicacies, I remember that it was as yummy as I had hoped! Every last bite of it was like a tropical paradise in my mouth. And every single time after that still felt like I was having my own personal taste of ambrosia.
Eventually we moved to a different state (far away), where they didn’t have any Baskin-Robbins. After a while I forgot all about our Saturday ice cream adventures and my brief glimpse at the flavor of enchantment.
What’s strange is that I don’t even like Sherbet. I will always choose something chocolate when we were (and are) ANYWHERE else. But, for some reason, this one flavor called out to me every single time we went to Baskin-Robbins. Maybe it was the artificial rum flavor or maybe it was just the thought of doing something that I felt was a little bit naughty. Maybe I should go back there again (I can’t even remember the last time I was there) and try my favorite flavor again to see. I wonder…