Desireé arrived with one of our drug dealers. She was his current assistant, and very quiet and attractive. There were several people at my house at the time, and when they were busy or engaged in conversation, I spoke with Desiree. We may or may not have been smoking together, we were both already quite high, and we hit it off, were relaxed, hit the pipe. Of course we would hit it off, we were high as lunatics and I was always, always horny. I showed her my stem, and she told me quietly and with some conviction, if it was hers, she’d scrape the resin out of it. Ten minutes later she had left with her drug dealer boss.
Less than an hour later, I texted the drug dealer a couple of photos of the now thoroughly scraped stem and the big pile of resin that was freed in the process and asked him to show them to Desireé, tell her I had taken her advice. Twenty minutes later I was driving to Old Orchard Beach to pick her up (along with a ball) and bring her back to my house, where we puffed and chilled by ourselves for two or three hours, watched yesterday become today.
At about 9:30 am, after we’d both showered, separately but quite obviously, grooming in the attached bathroom as if we’re in a hotel room, my Desi in fresh foundation garments (from where?), fellated me, cheerfully and enjoyably but eventually unsuccessfully, and a half hour later I was driving her back to the scab of a motel room she and my dealer friend were staying at in off-season Old Orchard Beach.
I wasn’t exactly happy, but my life felt enjoyably full. Desi had been a choice, I picked her out and made a gesture. When I reached out, she was mine. Desi is a delightful, classy, and successful woman. She doesn’t work for the dealer anymore.
Bitchez 