Everything Is Burning

I spotted the British George in the same blue shorts and t-shirt wandering around the lobby when I was about to park the bike. His manner resembled that of a child, anxious and aimless. I lingered around the parking area a bit more to examine him a bit more closely, taking in the physical features that have crafted this drama boy trapped in a man body, since I knew it was our last moment.


I had decided to come over at 10 pm, after a long day of work, instead of crashing in and find comfort in my own bed. “I want to suck you now,” the message read, which gave me a blush out of a spur of moment in the classroom.

Upon seeing my sight, he opened the hotel swinging doors like it was his own place, at the slight awe of the receptionist. Suddenly he acted like a gentleman, waiting for me to step inside the elevator first, welcoming my tread to the room.

We had poppers and Japanese rubbers. Just like the previous time, he was doing what he does best while I was taking it all in my flesh.

“You’re a star fish, is that your favorite position?” He commented on my lazy sex move.

“When I look down, I see you looking up at me, that’s my favorite position.”


It ran until I burst a load, which was not much, thanks to the Pokemon boy I had hours earlier during lunch break, into his inviting tongue. The whole session last about 1 hour. He gave it with passion, trying to deepthroat me a few times but always coming back to sucking smoothly at the head only.

He made a joke about me not being able to find the switch to the bathroom and then collected all of my clothes, hanging them neatly in the closet, next to his striped shirts. Next thing I knew, all the sheets were made perfectly balanced on the bed, all the light was turned off.

“Stay with me,” he had made the proposal and asked the reception in advance of my arrival. My silence is my acceptance.

In the dark, he was already starting his questions about me and stories about his earthquake experience, 5 ex-boyfriends in Thai, the same man (or sarcastic queen) we both know and his jerk-sleep pattern during sleep.

“Have you had sex with Connor? Yes, you did.”

“No,” I lied to him, trying to cast out the blur memories of the night Connor gave me an assertive blow in Bangkok.

The story went on, with more and more of him talking about himself. Then I started to see an even more childish and experienced man-eater of him than in George. I had noticed it before, of course, for every sucking moment came with a victorious smile and a wink. As he slowly faded into his own realm in his emerging sleep, I started to feel less confident in myself, and in the territory that I think I’d won. The awareness grew bigger as the shadow fell even further upon us.

I retreated my arms and sat back up, slowly withdrawing myself from the soft layer of hotel blanket. “I just realized something, mmm, I had to go fetch this thing before work tomorrow, text message just came,” sometimes I’m the worst liar.

He didn’t say much, probably still half unconscious. But again, in a childlike manner, his big hand grabbed me by the wrist, nudged my belly. Body language speaks a lot sometimes. But I got out of it quickly, gave him a final kiss and headed to the elevator. He was standing there with his blanket wrapping around his naked body.


The perfect night would have been me spending the time sleeping. I didn’t want to drive all the way back home either. The perfect night would have been him not sleeping on his stomach but on my arms. The perfect night would have been something I have had and still willing to experience all over again, even with the fall that follows upon us departing our ways. But the rule of hookup is that you don’t overstay your time. You stay, you lose.





This entry was published on June 16, 2016 at 4:01 pm. It’s filed under British George and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: