IN WHICH THIS COWGIRL GOT THE BLUES.
Max had the get up and go you’d expect, with sky-high libido and circulation to match. This was partly due to his everyday need as a young man; but also, his ardor indicated an apparent dry spell in the romance department.
As I rode him hard he arched up to meet me, thrusting like a hot, buckin’ bronco…his blonde hair made me think of a wild palomino. Trying to go deeper (as if — he was huge and it already felt like I was being cleaved in two), with his hands on my hips he pulled me down hard, again and again.
Just a couple minutes into it, though, all of a sudden, he came. In Northern European, repressed fashion, he made not a sound, though his face betrayed his ostensible rapture with an expression akin to being tortured; meanwhile, I was the one close to actual pain — metaphorically drawn and quartered by his size and urgent pounding.
“Did you come?” he asked. Clueless, he flashed his charming smile.
“Not yet,” I said as I got off him and had a brief visual of a Roadrunner cartoon, surprised I hadn’t split into two pieces like Wiley Coyote.
I was disappointed but understanding — he just seemed so innocent and naive. And how could I not forgive him, with that smile! Besides, I felt with practice he might develop quite nicely — and with natural equipment like his, all I’d need would be a little more longevity.
Long on charm, long on dong, but short on performance — I looked forward to giving Max a five-star review, or auf wiedersehen to this German export.
Yours truly,
