It seemed he… completely lost interest in me. Was it something I said? Did he meet somebody else? I wouldn’t say I was that attached to him but this occurrence certainly coloured my thoughts, emotions, and day into grey; like a low-hanging heavy cloud threatening to cast rain into the earth, and in the form of one tear, it did. I didn’t even feel this melancholic when Erwin and I ended… It was utterly stupid. All of it. Spending a night with Rollo unquestionably pushed my thoughts of Kaladin in some corner of my mind a little farther away. Yet with this, a force brought it forth closer again.
I felt the urge to drink. And to spend another night with Rollo.
At eight in the evening, the Viking dropped Gollum again, this time with an image of him thinking and having those “hm” letters next to his head.
“Oh my God, he looks just like you. The resemblance is uncanny,” I playfully said through my voice, any trace of despondency I was feeling, absent in the sound I produced.
“Wow, I was actually gonna say the same thing, that.. it looks like you. The hair and everything,” Rollo returned.
“I mean, just look at the way he stands.” (Gollum is crouching in the sticker.) “With your tailbone, you basically stand like that now. And, the EYES! He’s got blue eyes! Just like you.”
“Oh wow, Blissetta,” Rollo emitted in a tone of surprised fascination as though he just discovered a juicy secret. "Were you staring into my eyes, then? Is that how you knew?” he pressed on teasingly. “Tchaww. Cute.”
“Really? They’re truly blue?” I questioned in earnest for when I spat out he had blue eyes, I didn't really know he had them for certain. “I mean, I’ve had glimpses of your eyes but I didn’t really stare at them. I mean, I stared at them in the dark, but… yeah, it was dark,” I explained then giggled a little diffidently, realising I probably seemed I was babbling excuses with how girlish I sounded.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. You were staring at ‘em, whatever you say,” came Rollo's stubborn response in the most infantile way I heard him speak. Then in between a sigh, he added, back in his regular manly voice now: “They are blue, yes.”
“I’m going to stare at them real hard next time. And make you feel uncomfortable,” I declared with a tinge of vindictive determination, then added quite musingly: “I thought they were grey...”
I went back to Bumble to look at the selfie he sent me. I was pretty sure I didn’t perceive a pair of blue eyes when I saw it for the first time. I didn't even notice the piercing he's got on his nose. Hmm… I zoomed in and out. It didn’t really seem blue to me. If it was, it only probably had the faintest shade of it. It was possibly the lights. When we were hanging out together, I scarcely looked into his eyes so I couldn’t make a thorough observation of its colour at all.
“What? You thought my eyes were grey?” Rollo asked in disbelief.
“Well, they weren’t very blue otherwise I would’ve noticed it right away. Haha. Show me your eyes then, Rolloliyo,” I challenged. “Prove it."
“Come over and see themmm, Blissetta, etta, etta, eh, eh, eh,” he returned in an eager voice teeming with the intent to tempt.
“Oooh, is that your subtle way of saying you miss me, Rolloliyo?” I shot back, pleased with the opportunity to launch the same teasing note he did to me about his godforsaken blue eyes and me staring at them. Before I knew it, I was smiling from ear to ear now, his company lightening the shade of grey that clouded my mood because of a certain soldier.
“Uhhhhmmmmm…” he hummed for a long time, as if struggling to find an answer to what I said, or hesitating to do it. If the answer was no, he'd risk hurting my feelings. If yes, then he'd risk displaying a soft man who easily admits to such sentiments. At least that's how his reluctance sounded to me, for he proceeded to sing my name again—with a considerable amount of vigour than usual—for several more seconds, laughing in between the two rounds he did this accursed chant, completely evading the question at all.
And just like that, the wide smile I had beforehand, instantly vanished. “I swear to God..” I began, before dropping something in my native tongue to my grave annoyance. He asked me what I said because he doesn’t understand our language.
“I was saying that I want to… to… to, like…” I struggled, “how do you say it in English... I want to shake you—shake your head! Orrr, scrunch your face! Squeeze your face until your cheeks tear off!”
“Wowww. Veeeeerry aggressive, Blissetta, for such a small and skinny human being.” He chortled.
“Because, Rolloliyo, you make me G-R-R-R.”
“I make you grr? Grrr?” He laughed at the difficulty of achieving a perfect growl. Once more, he tried, before cackling at his own failure. This little predicament of his sounded so funny and cute that I started laughing in my turn despite my annoyance for him. Then I showed him how it should be done; by that, I mean I recorded myself growling and telling him he should roll the “r”.
That was when I received a lengthy sound from him similar to that of a whirring machine. Oh, he definitely rolled his "r" this time, alright, but...
“Uhm…” I started, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, that’s not a growl anymore. You sound like, uhm… my electric fan.”
“Oh my God,” came his tone of pure disbelief. “I literally thought you were going to say something very different than electric fan.”
“Like what? A helicopter?” I didn’t realise how naive I sounded until I pressed send. Ah, for fuck’s sake...
“HAHA. So, so innocent, Blissetta, etta, etta. No, electric vibrator, I thought you were gonna say. But you said electric… fan.”
The conversation that followed covered up talks about vibrators and condoms and women's conservativeness in my country. Then I told him I wanted to come over but I was lazy and wished I could just teleport.
When I opened Instagram after we'd bid each other good night, I saw a post which said “I would look so cute next to you in bed”. And because of the fresh convo I had with the English viking, there was no one else that came to mind upon reading that but him. And so I tagged him in the comments with a smile on my face.
At the beginning, I gave myself the comfort of the thought of never seeing Rollo again should something ever happen between us, but there was no way now I'd let what happened that night be a one-time thing. Even if Kaladin's location hadn't changed.
The morning that followed, September 22nd, I received a notification on Instagram that he liked the comment I tagged him into, but it wasn't until five in the afternoon when he messaged me and the man finally lost it this time. No, he didn’t sing my name like he usually did. Instead, he just said one “Blissetta” except that…
“Blissettaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—” the recording went on and on until I heard him run out of air.
“Uhm, Rolloliyo…" I began most uneasily. "I’m really worried about your sanity. Did you forget to take your medications?”
“No, I didn’t take—yeah, I mean.. Tsk. What are you on about taking medications? Just supplements, vitamins," he cleared out for me, then proceeded to list said supplements and vitamins off.
“You know, medications for your head," I explained. "So you wouldn’t have to go back to the asylum whence you came from.”
“No medication, por favor. Rollo, s’il vous plaît… Yeah, avec mon chien… qui s’appelle Bruno.”
Ah, here we go again.
“Whatchu doin’?" I asked in the midst of his French twaddle. "I’m coming over. I’m on my way now. Okay, I’m here. Open the door. Ouvre la porte.” This I spontaneously said in under 10 seconds whilst I relaxingly laid in bed. If he could speak in gibberish to me, then I supposed I could say whatever I fancied.
“What am I doing? I just got up and opened the door anddd nobody was outside the door. So, I was lied to. Blissetta-etta-etta is a liah, liah, liah, liah," came his reply 8 minutes later.
“It took you so long to open the door so I just left.”
"Oh yeah, it makes sense cos..." He slowly started as if in exhaustion, giving off a soft sigh at the end, before bursting into a chorus of severe reprimand. "Why didn't you blabla ring me up then, the security like you did before?" He spoke too fast, I couldn't catch everything no matter how many times I played it. "Interesting, Blissetta-etta-etta," he ended the note sarcastically.
"Alright, I'll go back," I said in mock-annoyance.
"They didn't call me, the security didn't say somethin' somethin' somethin'... 'Get Blissetta?' Somethin’, somethin', something," his complaints went on. "Cos that's what she said last time and I was just like—'Yeah, yeah, yeah.'"
Me: "AHAHAHAHA. Yeah, I'm just home."
I sent that text at 7:25 even when I was already prepared to go out. I didn't know why I didn't just straight-up ask him if I could visit but the fact that he opened the door, if he did actually do it upon my words that I was there—was an invitation enough for me that it was okay to pop in. Not to mention his severe complaints of why I didn't just go through the same procedure I had with the front desk last time. So in conclusion, I could come over, but he wouldn't be expecting it. I smirked at the surprise he'd have tonight as I sat my way inside the cab after buying yoghurt from 7/11.
Just like last time, I was held up in the lobby for quite a while again because of the necessary procedure for a visitor’s admittance. I watched from the waiting lounge as one of the receptionists phoned Rollo’s room and I started to become a little nervous when she said to the other: "He's not picking up…”
Oh, no… Is the bastard sleeping?
Thankfully, after another try, she called my name and told me I could proceed to the elevators. I stood up and before I knew it, I was once again standing in front of room 16G. Whilst waiting, I opened my phone and saw that he replied to my “I’m just at home” message with an “Okayyyyy” at 8:00pm and I literally arrived at his tower at that exact time. Oh lord, he must have been so confused when they called him for a visitor… The mischievousness in me couldn’t help but snicker at what could’ve been his expression when they rang him up.
When the door swung open, I was met with Rollo’s tall figure in just his black Calvin Klein underwear and black-rimmed glasses, his frontispiece bearing the habitual beam he wears, except this time, it was mixed with an incredulous amazement when I chirped a cheerful: "Hi!"
"Are you crazy? Why didn't you tell me you were heading over?"
"I told you I was here,” I casually replied, stepping in and walking past him.
"A normal person would've given an announcement beforehand,” he continued after he had closed the door. “I could've cleaned," he added, swiping a pair of shorts on the floor with his foot out of my way when he reached me.
Hmm.. That certainly made me rethink my thought of him being an organised guy from the first night. Haha.
“When they first called me, I was like… What’s this all about?” went on the narration of his disbelief. “Ah, maybe they’re just ringing me up by mistake so I didn’t answer it.”
I laughed. “I wanted to surprise you.”
"You wanna replay what happened last time?" he asked me when I was putting my bag down on the couch, referring to my discomfort during my stay there whilst watching The Man From Toronto.
"Hell no," I replied without missing a beat, taking my shoes off before going to the bed next to him.
I again suggested we watch a movie because I really didn’t know what else we could do before we’d get to the… ahem. The intimate business. We had a long discussion about chess on Bumble but I really still had no interest in learning it yet. He never brought it up either.
"What were you doing before I came, by the way? Maybe I'm intruding…" I began to say.
"Nothing much, just working."
"Oh, did I disturb you?"
"Nah, I'm done with it."
I moved closer to the TV near his feet as I held the remote in hand, trying to choose yet another film to watch.
"That's smart, you moving there," he commented from behind me.
Well, this time, I was no longer shy to explore other areas where my vision could see best. I sat there browsing through movies after movies, reading them out loud for his approval as he stayed at his side of the bed, his phone in front of his face. I had often caught him opening an app called “Futbol", or so I read on his phone, since the first night.
"Don't Look Up,” I read on the screen. “Have you seen this?"
"Yes."
Aww, too bad. My crush Timotheé Chalamet is there.
"Love & Monsters."
"No, Blissetta. There's literally monsters in the title."
"Yes, but there's also love in it," I retorted.
"I've seen it."
I shot him a look. "You've seen it?"
"Just kidding."
I really couldn't help thinking he was just tripping me with his intense nitpicking with movies. Then I remembered what he said about his eyes being blue so I crawled towards him to look into them.
"I can't see any colour. Do you have a flashlight?"
With his phone's torch, I stared into his eyes which he opened round for my favour… I squinted and tried to understand the colour. "It looks grey."
"They're blue."
"But they look grey."
"You're blind, Blissetta."
I knew I said I would stare at his eyes real hard next time to make him uncomfortable but I just couldn't do it… Some force always made me look away because I was the one getting uncomfortable instead. Grr.
After several minutes, he finally considered "Mowgli" when I came upon it.
"Is that like the Jungle Book film?" he asked.
"Yes," was my response, hiding the fact that I've already seen it just to get on with it already. If it isn’t obvious by now, it was a chore picking a movie for the two of us and if only impatience were absent in our nature, legit, we could go on for hours scrolling and debating and suggesting and rejecting film after film.
At the first few scenes, I stayed at my spot at the foot of the bed when my back called the plea to recline. I then decided to just lay on the other side of the bed, next to Rollo. Then my bra started being uncomfortable. I wore a white tank top that could pass on as a tight dress, and a pair of light blue shorts. On top of it all was an ocean blue shirt that stopped above my knees long enough to cover my underclothes and the sleeves oversizing the length of my arms. It was actually a man's shirt but it looked pretty cute on me.
I tried unhooking my bra from the outside without taking anything off, but the top I wore was tight enough to make me noticeably struggle. Hmm.. maybe later. Although Rollo had practically seen me naked, I was still shy to undress so soon before him without having built any sort of sexual rapport yet. It was like a "wholesome" foreplay is needed first to get to the "actual" one. After a few minutes, I tried again. Still, I struggled. The entire time, I was self-conscious because I was aware how conspicuous my troubles were amidst the calmness of the room and I could feel Rollo's gaze boring on my back. Realising that doing it from the outside would get me nowhere, I decided to just shove my hands underneath my shirt to unhook my bra.
"Do you need some help?" Rollo finally offered.
"Nah, it's fine."
More movements and at last! It finally broke free! I breathed. God, I didn't even realise I was holding it. I carefully removed one arm from the shirt's sleeve, keeping it on my shoulder, then slid one strap of the bra out, before putting my arm back again into the sleeve. Then I did the same process with the other arm and strap, until I finally rid myself of the godforsaken undergarment by pulling it out from under my dress.
Why the heck didn't I just let him help me? That was some hell of a work that the relief I had after it felt so goddamn good.
"Wow. You didn't even have to take anything off," Rollo commented in an impressed tone, which just proved the bastard was watching me the entire time.
He stretched out his arm on his side, an invitation for me to come into it and make it my pillow. Aww. Could you believe sarcastic and mean Rollo being sweet like this? Lmfao. Willingly, I edged myself closer towards him and intertwined my right hand with his left, the one from the arm I laid my head upon.
"Aww, I missed this soft hand," I said affectionately, lifting it up to my lips to kiss the back of it because I'm sweeter like that.
"Fuck. You," he slowly enunciated into my ear which induced a hearty laugh from me.
Every now and again, my free hand would idly reach his face and caress it, softly digging the hairs on the side of his face.
"Ah, so that forest is in India," I inferred as we watched the movie.
"Really?"
"Because they're speaking in Hindi."
"Ah, yeah."
"When are you returning to England?" I asked.
"October 12th."
Oh, it was still the 22nd of September. He still had plenty of time, then.
I turned to hug him, my leg propped up on his body, my eyes on the screen.
Something was different with this Mowgli film… It wasn't how I remembered it. I fairly recalled the forest burned in the one I watched. That's why I exclaimed: "Put out the fire!" when the torch was left on the ground. To my confusion, there was no burning at all.
When I needed to pee, I planted a smack-sounding kiss on Rollo's cheek before getting out of the bed, saying—"Don't pause it"—on the way to the bathroom. And then I smiled secretly because I felt myself blushing from what I did.
Several minutes later, back in bed, I stared at his face studiously and muttered, "I wonder what you look like without all that hair…"
Having said that, he didn't think twice to satiate my curiosity by grabbing his phone and showing me a few pictures from his Facebook account, which instantly evoked my delighted amusement when I saw his pre-viking phase from four years back and beyond.
"OMG!" I cried out, laughing. "Fetus!"
"What do you mean fetus?" he asked, showing me another pic of him with a bunch of other guys (he was always with people in the photographs) on what seemed like at the top of a building overlooking city lights. "This is when I was in Japan."
"Awww, look at you..." I couldn’t stop beaming. He was such a pretty boy, clean-shaven. Exactly my type back then. Tall, skinny, cute face… the kind my younger self would easily get a crush on had he been in my school or a character from a TV show.
The one in Japan, when he was still a teenager, he looked so amiable and innocent, like Clay Jensen from "13 Reasons Why." At the same time, you could also detect some bits of youthful mischief in his charming and eager smile. But no joke, he was the cutest among all six young men in the picture.
The one where he was holding a drink with two other people, in his early twenties, he looked nerdily awkward, like Sheldon Cooper from "Big Bang Theory". He had a little facial hair but it was pathetic compared to the one he has now. Haha.
"I tried to grow my hair there but it was so bad," the full-grown viking—with the magnificent beard and everything—version of the scrawny and awkward young man in the picture, was telling me from my side.
And he was right. I mean, it wasn't that bad but it was bad, yes.
And then the most recent one, mid-twenties, he looked like a fuckboy, like… hmm. I actually couldn't think of anyone that resembled his vibe in the image the most. At least, not at the moment. I'd like to say Nate Archibald from "Gossip Girl" but Nate is from high society and Rollo in the picture was just a regular bloke enjoying a party or club. Although, the flash of the camera that caused his eyes to look red made him look like a vampire so perhaps… Kol Mikaelson from "The Vampire Diaries"?
Anyway… Rollo’s transition from omega to beta to a sexy alpha viking was definitely jaw-dropping. It's amazing what hair can do to someone's appearance. And gym, of course.
When the movie was over, he said he actually enjoyed it and I was kind of glad he did. But I was still really confused as to what kind of Mowgli version I watched because it turned out this was my first time watching this one.
We tried picking another film and as usual, we went through another debate before he dismissively suggested we just go with the "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" one since we both hadn't watched it.
As the motion pictures began playing, I turned to Rollo and stared at his profile enviously, especially his nose. It wasn't pointed nor straight, but it was narrow. I'm bad at distinguishing nose shapes so I had to google this one and I think Rollo has the Roman type. Then his piercing caught my attention. I reached for his nose and fondled the silver metal ring gingerly, resisting the urge to pull it off with one quick motion. "It's so tempting to snatch this off…" I muttered, voicing out my intrusive thoughts.
With this, Rollo turned to stab me a look, my fingers slipping off his nose in the process. "Why are you so evil?" he demanded, pinching his nose himself as if to fix it from an ill-intended touch.
"It just gives me the urge."
Then he pinched my little nose and moved it side to side. "I'll snatch this off."
I chuckled, swatting his hand away. We set our eyes back to the TV now.
"That's a gym," he told me when the shot showed a gym and I just looked at him like WTF?
"I know?" came my response in sheer incredulity.
"Oh, cos you said you've never been in one."
"Yes but surely I know what it looks like, no?"
What the hell? He cracks me up. LMFAO.
"What can you even do in the gym nowadays? I thought your tailbone was going to be healed in a week. It's been like, half a month now. Does it still hurt so much?"
"It still hurts, yeah, but not as bad as before. And in the gym, I do upper body workouts, like..." I couldn't remember the terms he said but he proceeded to open out his arms both in a right angle form and then pushed them inwards together, and then back away, and then inwards again, followed by one or two other examples.
A little while later, he became a little clingy when he laid his head on my chest, his glasses removed now. It was a rather funny sight, a big man trying to be cradled by a tiny girl.
"I'm sleeping on your boobs," he said.
"I have no boobs," I said back and we both laughed because it was true. Nah, they aren't big but they perfectly fit in my hands. But then again, I have small hands, so…
Moments later, the position had changed and I found myself in his arms again when he disturbed the peace by curiously tickling my side, earning no reaction from me at all.
"That won't work."
Then his hand traveled to other areas which still didn't make any effect on me.
"Wow. You really aren't ticklish."
"I told you I can turn them off," I evenly said, my eyes never leaving the screen.
"Now what about your tailbone…"
It was then my body quickly twisted—as if on its own—as his hand reached for my backside, warding off his attack. But this reaction only encouraged him more to aim for the very place I pointedly forbade to be touched until my proud control for my tickles completely left my system as I found myself fighting mightily from his rebellious hands.
"NO—!" I cried out and laughed because he had now awakened the treacherous tickles all over my bones so wherever his hand landed on my body, laughter from my mouth followed. Involuntarily.
"So that's really where your weak spot is, huh," he concluded deviously as he kept switching routes where his touch might find a successful entry for incessant were my turns and evasions of his attacks to protect this most sensitive area. I'd twist and turn and grab hold of his obstinately playful hands only to lose them all over again with not much effort on his part as he'd go ahead to pursue his target.
"STOP!" I pleaded, trying to keep my back glued to the bed to deny him access to my tailbone. But then he passed a hand in between my legs and with this, a great sense of feminine defense within me alerted my whole being, as though I was being violated. With all my strength, I arrested this very offender of his—his hand—with my very own tiny ones, only for it to slip free as easily as breathing for the man's strength was far superior than mine.
I screamed for mercy in between uncontrolled laughter as I remained trapped within his arms, writhing and rolling my body in different directions, all of which amused my captor so verily. He caught my hands that were trying to catch his, which then I pulled and pushed to free them from his grip with zero success.
"Stop fighting, it's done now," he told me, pulling my hands up to my chest.
"I don't trust your hands anymore!" I protested.
He chuckled. "I'm cuddling you now, okay? Just cuddle."
I pulled my hands out of his hold and this time, he let them go, and with no second to lose, I immediately clasped them on his own hands to keep them in place on my chest, the force in my arms never leaving my body for fear that his hands might think of escaping and attacking again.
"Would you relax? It's a normal cuddle now."
"I don't trust your hands!"
"I thought you could turn your tickles off."
"You awoke them!"
My tailbone is my weakness and any attempt to press it unlocks the general tickles I possess deep within my corps. I usually don't tell people about this but when I shared this information with Rollo almost two weeks ago, I didn't think I would actually meet him in person; let alone he would tickle me right there.
So we cuddled for some time, if you could call it a "comfortable" cuddle at all, what with the pressure I was applying in a poor attempt to "firmly" keep his treacherous hands where they were. No deference was given to Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt on the screen anymore, at least from me, as the majority of my focus rested on suspicious movements that might come from the Englishman who had me imprisoned in between his arms.
For a short while we laid in silence, until my distrust was proven right when his mischievous hands were back at it again, tormenting my pathetic defenses. Again, I twisted and turned and fought and shrieked in agony of hysterical laughter—both in resistance and, I must admit, genuine fun of it all; for this had been the most playful we'd ever been, and the most carefree my laughs were despite the display of my seething rebellion. To my astonishment, it was incredible how I managed to keep his hands away from where he wanted it to be despite his continuous assaults.
With all the movements we'd made together, I found my chin in between the nook of his neck and shoulder-blade later when he was twisted to his side so his torso was partially on top of me. In this position, I had a wide coverage of his back, my shoulder free to reach an arm down his spine. And down my arm reached towards the edge of his underwear where the meeting point of his two buns made that "V" opening.
"If you don't stop, I will touch your tailbone," I menaced him, my fingers threateningly edging closer towards the "V" entrance.
"NO," came his strong objection, our bodies momentarily frozen in that position.
"I swear to God, I will," I pursued with a tone of conviction yet in my heart I didn't have the cruelty to do so. But it was unfair! He was injured… Grr.
"Don't, Blissetta," he said rather calmly this time. For a moment, it softened me. But then the devil got up and was completely on top of me now, renewing his attacks from the most advantageous point I stood no chance with. He tickled my sides, my stomach, interspersed with his still attempts to conquer my tailbone, all the while being fought by what was left of my power. I twisted my hips back and forth to keep his hands off my back and tried to kick him but my relentless effort to push him away was easily subdued by his manly force. Failing to wriggle myself out, very amusedly he chuckled and said, "This is like rape now."
Giving up, I dropped it all, my energy and defenses as I just laid there under his captivity, exhausted. "What are you doing?" I asked with a weak laugh. Laughter from defeat mixed with fear… and excitement.
But he seemed to have perceived a genuine fright from my expression for he stopped all at once and released his grip upon me. When I met his eyes, the wicked amusement on his face softened before he bent down to kiss me. Slowly and gently. There was no reason not to surrender to his tender embrace for they were sweet and loving, a most peculiar contrast against his sarcastic and cheeky nature which made it all the more fascinating. Not long after, I found myself running my hands through his soft hair, sinking deeper into the kiss as I tried to find the distinct taste I had of him last time. I sucked onto his tongue. Hmm... It was no longer there. I guess I had become used to his saliva. Funnily, his beard still smelt like sauce and I thought he probably had the same chicken dinner again.
I made him turn the lights off because I find the mood sexier when the darkness is flickered with only the lights from the TV.
"There. It's more romantic," I declared with a smile.
I sat up to remove my shirt, dress and shorts, and was pushed back down with his mouth back on mine before I could get to my panties. I threw my head back when his hot mouth travelled to my neck, rasping my skin with his moustache and magnificent beard. And then lower his sloppy kisses went, planting a warm wetness wherever his tongue landed, which then immediately felt cool as soon as the skin was exposed to air and his mouth was devouring neighbouring places: the dent in between my chest, the sides of my breasts, my nipples, farther down…
I was so aroused now.
He rose and pulled down my underwear, the exceptional experience his skillful tongue did to me last time was firing me up with excitement and great anticipation.
Honestly, who taught him how to gamahuche? I want to thank her personally.
For several minutes, the room was filled with my cries and moans, drowning out the voices from the TV. It was so good that I had evinced noises and expressions I didn't even know I had. My hips heaved, the sole of my feet pressed his back, yet his lips remained glued in between my thighs, seeming indifferent with the direction my body was taking him.
"Oh my God, right there.." I moaned when once again, he hit the most sensitive part, exciting my most pleasures. "Oh, God… Please don't stop, please don't stop…" My hips rose higher, taking him with it; my hands on his hair, pressing him deeper into me… I could feel the advent of my climax. With a little movement to make his tongue meet the area that ignites the most splendid timing to the summit of an oral pleasure, I heard the moans in the room make a recession. My own voice faded as I felt myself die away from the greatest pleasure of my life. My entire body convulsed, tightening my hold of him between my shaking legs, and my eyes rolled backwards in between fluttering eyelids. All of this and his mouth remained tightly pressed to me, killing me most intensely. I felt the warm torrent of my own cum flowing out of my vagina and still, his mouth showed no sign of surrender as he continued devouring me with fervent hunger, sucking and licking every drop of lecherous fluid he had masterfully produced within myself, deepening the most delicious sensation until it was overflowing with excess pleasure.
It was official. I was in love with this man.
My hips fell back down; his head, now very red, following me unstirred as if it was a part of my body. Remnants from my earlier sensual explosion lingered in the form of minor twitchings and little cries of moans, as my voice had gradually returned to me.
"It's too sensitive now," I told him a few minutes later with a breathless chuckle, gently pulling his head up, my chest heaving up and down.
He opened his eyes and looked up at me with that beautiful smile of his; the smile that so knew the satisfaction he had inflicted… so humbly proud and pleased; his lips glistening from the juices he had expertly squeezed.
Goddamn, he's beautiful.
You know how when you have sex with a foreign person and you have to do your best because you're basically representing the entire country? Well, I just want to say…
BRAVO, ENGLAND. BRAVO!
And that was even just the preliminary.
He came up to kiss me and I tasted the trace of my own cum from his lips again. I swear, he felt like a completely different person whenever we kissed. So sweet and affectionate…
"Alright, my turn," I announced as I got up to my knees, grinning as he chuckled and proceeded to his precious territory of the bed: the right side.
I swung my legs over him to straddle his now cloth-free body; kissing him for some more, sucking on his neck, planting kisses on his hairy chest, running my tongue down his abdomen, and then... holding the stiff instrument within my hand. The very instrument that destroyed me last time. I wondered if I could take it all inside me now...
Nah, with his size and my mouth, it was impossible. But I glided him in as far as I could in the next events that followed, evoking tears from my eyes. I moaned, he didn't. Why wasn't he moaning? Wasn't I doing a good job? I hoped I wasn't pressing any pain to his tailbone this time. I sipped on his luscious head, and then widened my opening to slide him deeper into me. When I looked up, I watched him throw his head back, his mouth opened into a delicious "O" shape and the glorious sight of this beautiful lustful expression encouraged me to speed up and go even deeper until his impressive size hit the back of my throat, inducing a gag from me and substantial lubrication.
After a while, he prompted me to rise by gently taking my face with the tips of his fingers and I obediently did so, wiping the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand as he ushered me forward down towards him to draw our lips together. I was slightly conscious of the still slimy surroundings of my mouth from the oral homage I gave him but this didn't seem to bother him as he kissed me in that tender way he did, sensually interlacing his tongue with mine. I nibbled and sipped on his lower lip which felt very soft against my teeth and tongue.
"Do you have condoms now?" I asked, softly looking at him.
"No…"
I drew back to stare at him in astonished incredulity, all the softness I had a second ago vanished from my eyes. "WHAT?" Was he kidding me? "WHY?"
But we talked about condoms the other night…
"I…"
"If you get me pregnant, Rolloliyo, you're gonna have to marry me," I told him in an earnest menace.
He was unbelievable!
"Come on, I won't cum inside," came his mellow persuasion, which threateningly convinced me as I felt his hardness against my soft one underneath. So inviting… So dangerous...
"I'm ovulating," I dropped in hopes to scare him, slowly rubbing myself down the back of his stiff cock.
"You are?"
I knew for a fact he had absolutely zero desire to marry me but I couldn't read his mind. Perhaps he was confident I wouldn't get pregnant from a pull-out, or that the magnetic temptation of the desire made him less concerned of the risk in the present, as it obviously did to me for despite all the scare of unwanted pregnancy and marriage I spat, I still accepted him inside.
"Yes," I answered, wincing at the pain. "It's my ovulation period so if you get me pregnant at all,"—I slowly heaved my bottom to release a large part of him, my hands pushed on his stomach for support—"you're really gonna have to marry me," I continued with a slight gasp, retaking the rest of him inside at my descend. "That thought alone should frighten you enough."
His immenseness still posed problems with my comfort but it was easier this time compared to the other night.
"You're so big," I muttered a couple of minutes later, looking down at him, out of breath.
"How about your exes?" he asked, his hands on my small waist.
"You're the biggest." I collapsed on his chest to take a little break, his collosality still inside me. "What's your size?"
"6'2."
I raised my head to look at him, chuckling. "I meant down there, baka."
"I don't know."
"You don't know? You don't measure it?"
"No..."
"I thought all guys measure it. Are you also big in Europe?"
"Nah, I guess I'm just average."
"Shut up. There's no way you're just average."
With his fondness of using hyperbole, he was being uncharacteristically modest with his size.
"You know I bled the other night?"
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Oh, yeah. That blood on the sheet. Are you sure you're not a virgin?"
I only smiled, lifting my body to start moving up and down again.
"You're not much of a moaner, are you?" I asked.
"No, I'm pretty chill. You want me to go all—" He turned his head to the side and let out an "ahhh" sound, and then to the other side moaning an "mmhmm", his eyes closed and face contorted into the same level of sexiness I saw him make when I was down him.
My lips parted open as though in a trance before he returned his eyes to me with his regular expression now.
"What the hell… That's so hot," I said, thoughtlessly slapping his cheek in the process. Just a mild slap. I was thoroughly captivated...
When he was the one mounting me now after trying me from behind, he smiled down at me and I noticed something on his face for the first time. "Oh my god, you have dimples?" I let out in surprise, placing a graceful hand on his cheek.
"Yes. You're only noticing them now?" he asked, positioning his instrument into my slippery entrance.
"It's because they're almost covered with—" I gasped when I felt him enter me "—your facial hair," I continued in a constrained voice, quickly turning breathless.
"You're blind, Blissetta."
His response was only answered by my inexorable moans as he slowly penetrated into me, reaching mysterious depths that nobody had ever been before. I looked down to watch him glide in and out of my small person, the TV screen behind making a sharp and flickering spectacle of light and dark contrast in motion. Even with obvious difficulty, I still found it impressive how I could take him almost all in. I watched in both painful and pleasing amazement the size of his shadowed girth spread folds of tissues to the largest extent my tightness had ever been stretched, digging far and deep as though seeking for hidden treasures.
When I looked up at his face, he was already staring at me. We held our gaze for a second or two, our mouths parted open, my hand on his neck, before he bent down to kiss me, putting a momentary stop to my moans. No sooner did I hear it mixing with the TV sound again, only this time, it was muffled by his tongue, which, just like his business below, was exploring the recess of my mouth.
His thrusts became harder and faster. As soon as he lifted his head from me and released my mouth, the sound of my cries and moans took up another volume. I looked down again, his shaft lengthening at each pull upwards... and then disappearing inside me the next second. It was so hot… witnessing the whole action of my pain and pleasure in play.
The warm and sticky ending of the performance we played was eventually spilled on my stomach and I was really glad I made him release this time.
"Wait… did you cum inside?" my paranoia inquired.
"No, no. I didn't," he replied, checking me there with his hand.
He stood up to turn the lights on and get me tissues and I told him he could use the bathroom first as I wiped myself from the same missionary position I was left in.
I watched him walk away and I realised that was the first time I'd seen him completely naked standing up and he looked… breathtaking. The firm ass I kept secretly checking out through his boxer briefs whenever he'd walk around the unit didn't disappoint. Ugh.. The desire to take a bite...
When it was my turn, I washed my stomach in the shower and ended up taking a half-bath. Upon my return, I traversed the room naked and saw Rollo lying on the bed, back in his underwear now, his hands crossed underneath his head and eyes distant as he looked at nothing in particular. (He had shut the TV off by this point.)
"You took 24 hours this time," he said, before turning to face me.
He was waiting?
Then the bastard went to the bathroom again. I swear, the only reason he thinks I spend millions of years in the bathroom is because the goddamn guy pees every five minutes.
I donned my underwear and shirt before I got back in the covers.
"You know, klein in German means small," I said when I watched Rollo shut the blinds a couple of minutes later, my eyes on his boxer briefs.
"Really?"
"Yes, I just recently found out about it cos I'm learning German."
"Is Calvin Klein a German brand?" he asked when he climbed on the bed next to me.
"I don't know but I just find it rather funny for a brand of men's underwear…" Cos he definitely isn't klein.
When the lights were off, I occupied myself with my phone for a bit to play one lesson on Duolingo and I have to say my German basics were going pretty well.
"Wow, you seem to be really good at it," Rollo commented when I made continuous correct answers. (My phone was on speakers.)
When it was over, I put my phone aside and rolled towards him who already had his back turned to me. It was actually ridiculous how he was so obsessed with being on the "farthest" right side of the bed, like, literally at the "precipice" of it the same way how cats love being at the edge of something high just a clumsy move away from falling down.
One instance, when I climbed on top of him during our intimate moment that night, my one knee had no space on the bed at all for support and I went all: "What the hell, dude? I'm going to fall." So we scooched a little bit to his left.
I put my arm around him, my hand dangling on his stomach. He took this hand of mine and held it with his, then asked: "You're done with Duolingo?"
"Yes. I just played one lesson to keep my streak."
I must say my night with Rollo certainly improved this time for I slept soundly and almost continuously compared to our first night together.
When I half-awoke the morning that followed, the room was already blanketed with faint light from the early sun. I sleepily turned to the other side, towards Rollo, who—like myself, half-asleep—drew me in and pulled me close. I hugged him back and nestled on his hairy chest, already feeling the familiarity of this embrace.
Morning sex.
I silently relished on his warmth for a little while when I remembered something.
Slowly, I partially turned my body to reach for my phone on the other side of the bed. I looked at the screen and… Fuck. It was already past 6am. Though against my will, I rolled away from Rollo and sat up to take my shirt off. Then I opened the drawer for the rest of my garments and started donning myself with a brassiere.
“What are you doing?” Rollo finally asked, watching me in confusion.
“I have to go.”
He raised his brows and widened his eyes as though to completely wake himself up and continued regarding me as though waiting for me to say something more.
“I promised my sister I’d be home by six,” I told him.
He checked his own phone for the time and groggily said, “It’s already past six.”
“Exactly.” This time, I was now standing on the floor to fit my shorts.
“How old are you again?” he asked with a little tinge of suspicion, his almond-shaped eyes looking at me in a mixture of curiosity, surprise, and… disappointment.
I just chuckled silently, a little sheepish. “I promised her I’d be home by six.”
“Blissetta, take the bills you gave me,” I heard him say when I was fixing myself in front of the mirror but I pretended I didn’t catch his words and just went on with my preparations. When I briefly turned around, I saw him getting up and putting the money in my bag and just fuck it. I really didn’t want to have any more monetary discussion so I just feigned ignorance to what I saw. There was no point paying him back for the ride from last time, either.
When I was done, I sauntered towards him on the bed laying on his territory, his phone in front of his face. Closer now, I interrupted him by opening my arms for an embrace which he immediately welcomed upon seeing this. I buried my face on his neck for some time, refusing to let go quickly, then tightened my grip on him which he returned by squeezing my body and fondly swaying it side to side. When I finally lifted my head, I accidentally banged it with his.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed but was laughing, his hand reaching for the side of his head where the unintentional blow struck.
“Sorry,” I said, grinning at his reaction. Such a beautiful smile he had, especially now that I was seeing he had dimples on both cheeks. They weren't round and as deep as mine, but somewhat like streaks of crescent lines creating two flashes of additional charm to his million-dollar smile. It seemed, at that moment, my mind took a mental shot of his face, so close to mine, laughing in both amusement and pain. So beautiful… I felt the urge to kiss him but decided against it thinking I would do it next time.
I was wrong. There was no more next time.