Reality

So there is this guy, pretty, built, and above all: he looks like one of your favorite singers. So one night you just happen to find yourself at his place. Only you two. And 2 bottles of wine. Time goes fast and the only thing you can think about is kissing him. So you move and press your lips against his then you both continue talking. When you get sleepy you two hit the bed in different rooms. Then he asks you to join him and of course you do because all you want - drunk and horny - is to feel his grace inside of you. So you get up and walk toward the other room to face destiny. That's when it all goes wrong. You lie down and shivers go down your spine and you start to sweat. But not in a good way. Next thing you notice is that you are throwing up. Like never before. Right into the middle of the love-nest. Of course you can't feel ashamed because you still have vomit in your mouth and all you want is a bathroom so you run out and finish your job there. You are too weak to stand up so you have to spend another 30 minutes bent over the tub. When the world stops spinning you get up on your feet, walk into your room and crash into bed. Soon he appears and asks if he'd sleep there with you since his bed looks like someone's vomited into it. You can't think but you nod. That's the point where nothing matters any more. And the point where he decides to kiss you down there and enter your sex. Heaven in the very middle of Hell. You start to feel better with every thrust. You start to think your mistake was forgiven. He works on you so hard that you even forget if there was a mistake. Then you black out - but not because your orgasm was so intense, no you are not that lucky this time - and sleep. Next morning you crawl out of bed and you wish you'd have sunglasses to make it easier to face the truth. But he is still nice and kind and truly: a gentleman. He walks you out, and blows ya a kiss. Adorable, isn't he? Two months later you realize that was the last time you saw him. Too bad.