As things sometimes do obtain a life of their own, so did the evening. From
what was supposed to be a bit of chatting and catching up over a glass of wine
or two, it turned into a serious "Global Resolution” summit, even briefly including
some heavy duty strategies to resolve the current global economic crisis. As
with any good informal social discussions, thought processes were definitely being
influenced by the copious amounts of red wine consumed. The topics and debates
thereof were on the increase in direct proportion to the amount of empty wine bottles
in the recycling bin.
It was in this rather robust atmosphere where personal opinions were now
based on the size of egos with a simultaneous reduction in intelligence and
common sense, when I made my escape to some cold evening air to have a
cigarette. I was joined by the afore mentioned gentleman and the conversation
(very one sided at that) started off innocently enough - he was curious about
the South African for about 15 seconds before proceeding to tell me about his
latest business venture.
Take my word for it...staring at an empty wine glass wishing you brought the
bottle with, whilst making the appropriate acknowledgement noises as your ears
ache, does not even closely come to describe my despair. When the inevitable promises came that he would
offer me a job, no, actually I should not scoff at him, he is offering me a job; it took every bit of self
control not to roll my eyes. When I finally did manage to utter a single
sentence about going back into the house as I am slightly tired, he pounced on
the subject of sleep deprivation with great gusto.
It took nearly fifteen minutes to establish that he had not slept for some
indeterminable time...but would I like to know why? Another bit of advice -
when you get that little niggling thought that you should run before it is too
late...DO IT! I was proudly informed that his sleep shortage was due to “bonking”
every female in his sight, because they all find him irresistible, especially
when they see his appendage’s considerable size. It appeared though that my disinterest in his
overwhelming busy sex life or the size of his “brain” was interpreted as
disbelief.
Before I could even say the word “penis”, he jumped up, excitedly shouting
that he will show me what so many desires - “MY COCK!” which he then promptly
hauled out. I will give him this - he is well endowed - it is just a pity about
the rest of him. My desire for something stronger than wine increased
dramatically as he was waiving his asset around for all and sundry to admire. It
was about five minutes later when I heard his voice rather plaintively stating
that he loves having his cock sucked. (I ignored the statement - At this stage, my glass had been thankfully been refilled, and I was
concentrating at getting as much nicotine and wine into my system in the shortest period
of time possible).
Silence descended.
Then...“Would you like to suck my cock?”
All the red wine in the world could no longer put a lid on my temper. “No”.
Another bit of silence.
“Congratulations! You have the job!!”
I have to admit, I could not help but to laugh - it was one of the best attempts
I have ever heard anyone make trying to safe some face...well, in his instance,
attempt to save cock?
The surreal bit? It was about ten minutes later after I
finally managed to make my escape, when he came up to me...
“Love, how ‘bout a cup of tea, please?”
