You really know how to set the mood, ( he notes wryly, though honestly, is watching some girl get sliced to ribbons in a spray of fake blood any better? not exactly. whoever decided fear is an aphrodisiac hasn't ever been in real danger. or, conversely, has never left it, been molded by it, to the point it is all they understand. he at least has that to help him get to sleep at night; he does not require blood or handcuffs or screams to feel alive enough to want to get his rocks off.
he does make a hum of contemplation at the suggestion. let the final call fight over the lackluster remnants. probably some asshole would just dump the whole bowl and go on their way. surely he's gotten his money's worth, pretending to be an average schmuck. he could throw in the towel now, if he wanted.
it's not that it isn't tempting. turns out, he does not need cat ears or a french maid costume. a too short dress does him just fine. not to mention the way her legs spread wider for him. his eyes linger on delicate white of her skin as he pushes his hand a little higher. as far as the sex goes, he tries to keep it to the point. getting sucked off, fucking her in whatever position seems fun at the time. he hasn't eaten her out. it seems against the spirit of things, to pay to go down on a call girl. would she even let him? he doesn't know the etiquette. but if he had to guess, it'd cost him more.
he's curious if she's wearing underwear — if she's spent 3/4ths of this stupid movie with her bare cunt twelve inches away. his thumb presses on the delicate flesh of her inner thigh, not hard but not exactly soft, his body turning toward hers as his hand is nearly there. if he just shifted his hand, moved just a breath higher. his knuckles would graze her and he'd know. he could press between her inviting thighs and fuck her right here on the couch. why not? that's a normal thing to do, too. ignore unaffiliated children and get laid instead.
and then the door bell rings. he does hesitate. contemplates giving in to the temptations of flesh over self imposed responsibility to greedy kids that probably don't need the sugar anyway. he doesn't. but he does groan as he pulls back and heads for the door.
the kids are cute. trick or treat from sticky smiles. one is dressed up like an inflatable dinosaur, can't navigate taking candy from the bowl and putting it in their bucket without dropping most of it on the floor, even with the night already mostly gone to practice. he honestly should just give them the lot of it and get back to the matter at hand. but when he returns and drops back onto his barely lived-in sofa, he demurs, ) Ten more minutes. There can't be that many left.
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Date: 2024-11-04 05:01 am (UTC)he does make a hum of contemplation at the suggestion. let the final call fight over the lackluster remnants. probably some asshole would just dump the whole bowl and go on their way. surely he's gotten his money's worth, pretending to be an average schmuck. he could throw in the towel now, if he wanted.
it's not that it isn't tempting. turns out, he does not need cat ears or a french maid costume. a too short dress does him just fine. not to mention the way her legs spread wider for him. his eyes linger on delicate white of her skin as he pushes his hand a little higher. as far as the sex goes, he tries to keep it to the point. getting sucked off, fucking her in whatever position seems fun at the time. he hasn't eaten her out. it seems against the spirit of things, to pay to go down on a call girl. would she even let him? he doesn't know the etiquette. but if he had to guess, it'd cost him more.
he's curious if she's wearing underwear — if she's spent 3/4ths of this stupid movie with her bare cunt twelve inches away. his thumb presses on the delicate flesh of her inner thigh, not hard but not exactly soft, his body turning toward hers as his hand is nearly there. if he just shifted his hand, moved just a breath higher. his knuckles would graze her and he'd know. he could press between her inviting thighs and fuck her right here on the couch. why not? that's a normal thing to do, too. ignore unaffiliated children and get laid instead.
and then the door bell rings. he does hesitate. contemplates giving in to the temptations of flesh over self imposed responsibility to greedy kids that probably don't need the sugar anyway. he doesn't. but he does groan as he pulls back and heads for the door.
the kids are cute. trick or treat from sticky smiles. one is dressed up like an inflatable dinosaur, can't navigate taking candy from the bowl and putting it in their bucket without dropping most of it on the floor, even with the night already mostly gone to practice. he honestly should just give them the lot of it and get back to the matter at hand. but when he returns and drops back onto his barely lived-in sofa, he demurs, ) Ten more minutes. There can't be that many left.