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I’d be the best boyfriend she ever had, if only she’d give me the chance. I’m such a fool to continue to believe that she will. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a vase, filled it with water and arranged the flowers, and left them where she could see them from her room when she emerged. Then, I opened the box of candy and took a chocolate truffle, my favorite. Mmm, it was so good. Heaven is the delicious sensation of a Godiva chocolate truffle. The dark chocolate did well to temporarily sooth my hurt feelings of rejection. I assuaged my unfulfilled feelings of lust for her by temporarily transferring how I felt about her to the candy. It was a meaningful manifestation of mind of matter and a transferal of emotion that I have grown accustomed to doing, whenever in her presence. If only she’d see me for the man that I am. If only we had more of a relationship. If only she was made of chocolate, I’d lick her before taking a big bite out of her ass. Sugar and spice and everything nice,. Then I was jerking about, my hips going up and up as I felt my seed move fast up my cock and burst out in short sharp jets. Debbie held me tight and firm in her mouth and I could see her looking at me as I came in those several bursts into her mouth. Her eyes were twinkling as her mouth and throat were filled, and then she swallowed, the action causing a tight constricting vacuum around the head of my cock, making it swell even larger and then the release of air caused another burst of the final eruption of sperm into the waiting receptacle. All this she swallowed without any problem, and then calmly released my steaming head out into the air and licked off the oozing residue. She’s obviously done this before were my thoughts as I relaxed. ‘Lovely,’ she crooned, licking and sucking till I was emptied and dry. Then she crawled up the futon, her breasts hanging full, brushed my still erect prick, stomach and then chest before she settled down on top of me. I could feel the hair of her.
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‘She’s starting a rooster club or something like that. Like a whorehouse only with men in it instead of women.’ ‘She’s nuts,’ Shelly said. ‘Women aren’t like that. And, anyway, it’s easy enough to find a man to do that for free.’ Maybe, I thought to myself. Maybe if you were an extrovert like Shelly and had the time to spend searching for a suitable man it would be easy. And in Shelly’s case she’d had a steady boyfriend for the last seven years so she was talking off the top of her head. By the time my nails were done my head was buzzing with fantastical ideas that made me want to squirm. The second time I heard about the Happy Lady’s House of Roosters I happened to catch part of a conversation between two well dressed women in the dairy products aisle of the grocery store. ‘It was fun,’ one of them was saying. ‘I can say that I’m a happy lady. I was with Garth and I’d recommend him to anyone. He looks like a caveman but he’s really sweet. He makes the damndest noises when he’s doing.

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