Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 45548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
This one was confusing the shit out of me though. She was nothing like I’d expected. Even though her social media posts had been vanilla as fuck I’d half convinced myself that she was just keeping her wild shit well hidden. Now I’m having to rethink that shit.
I’ve also noticed my new fondness for those flighty wisps of material she wears, her kaftans. They may look innocent enough, but if you watch long enough you’d see the seductive lure. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing her ass well encased in a tight pair of jeans just waiting for my hands to cup, those shits were growing on me.
I stretched my jean-clad legs out in front of me and sipped my beer as I watched her. Lately I’ve been really watching her. Not like a man who was planning her demise, but just as a man. I like what I see and that was starting to become a problem.
I find myself staying up late at night staring at the ceiling and asking myself ‘what if’. Then I’d remind myself of the hard five I’d done and that shit would die a quick death, only to return the next day. I sometimes felt more imprisoned by my thoughts than I’d ever been behind those walls.
Nothing was going the way I’d expected and I was growing more and more confused by the minute. What I once saw as black and white was filled with a fuck load of grey areas and the shit was getting to me. I hate not having all the answers, not knowing what the fuck was going on around me, especially when it pertains to me.
I was about to turn away from the screen when Bryan walked in, to avoid the obligatory evening peck on the lips. But then she did something that stopped me in my tracks. Did she just give him the slip? Sure as fuck she evaded his lips. Well, well, well what have we here grasshopper?
She pretended not to notice what she’d done but he saw it and so did I.
“You feeling okay?” He rubbed her back and I came halfway out of my seat. “Get your fucking hands off her.” Aw fuck!
I unclenched my fists and looked away as she lied to him about coming down with a cold and not wanting him to catch it. My ass. That was smooth though, good girl. I took a piss and waited for the knock on the door that I was sure would be coming.
All week I’ve been gravitating between feeling sorry for this guy and wanting to knock his fucking block off. What kind off asshole douche turd just opens their door and let some swinging dick waltz right in?
Either he’s an extremely confident fucker, or he’s got something on her. So far I haven’t picked up on any static so I know that’s not it, so it must be her. Some fuck happened to her that made this weasel think she could do no better.
I know I’m contradicting myself here. I should be happy as fuck that she’d ended up with that spineless twerp, but somehow it was an affront to me. I don’t know why the fuck I should care that she could do better, but I do. Even more confusing I’m beginning to see myself in that spot more and more of late. Hoisted on my own fucking petard. Shakespeare couldn’t have written this shit better.
Right on cue the doorbell rang and I pretended like I wasn’t standing here waiting for it. I opened the door with beer in hand looking all relaxed and shit. “Hey Bri, my man how goes it buddy?” I’m such an asshole, but that’s the way the game is played. At least I’d foregone my idea of sneaking into his house in the dead of night and fucking his girl right next to him. Points!
“Are you coming over? I wanted to show you that new rack I told you about.” Something else I was beginning to hate about this guy. He shoots shit just for sport. No real man does that shit. If you’re not gonna eat it, leave that shit alone. Squeamish fuck probably never took down so much as a squirrel. Who the fuck hunts raccoons?
“Yeah sure, let me get some shoes on.” I rolled my eyes once I turned away. Bryan is one of those guys that like to show off his toys, usually with that smarmy shit he does that says, ‘I bet you don’t have one of these’.
I like to let him show off his mediocre shit before schooling his ass on where he went wrong. My toys are always better, but I’m not about to have a dick- measuring contest with this ass. He’d never win. No way can a garden snake stand up against an anaconda. I’m just saying!