Look Who's NOT Coming to Dinner... Ch. 03

Fucking. That was all it was. He got her there, as Elaine put it, and that was all. Such bullshit she was telling herself right now. It was more than fucking, a lot more. That's what this was all about, this internal struggle. It didn't happen in that moment either. It built up over the last month. From the second he chose her tainted cup to this very second, she had been falling for him, at some point, she fell, completely. God damn it, she couldn't say the word, even to herself. She cried during sex with this man because he was perfect, to her, and for her.

"You okay?" she heard him ask and she realized she was crying again.

She did not dare answer verbally. She nodded her head against his shoulder. She didn't trust herself to speak. She could not think the word but she could blurt it, she was sure she could blurt it. She did not want to blurt it. Blurting it would make it real. It was already real, but it would make it realer, more real, undeniable. As long as she didn't say it, it was still deniable. Why was that important? McGuire was a dick.

It was McGuire that made her turn her critical eye away from Earl and cast it upon her family, friends, and the rest of the world who would judge her for being with an old white man. He pointed out that it was them, those who would judge her for the source of her happiness, that were wrong for her and not the source of her happiness. It made sense at the time and made her feel bad for the way she had been thinking. She was drunk at the time though. Shit. She was probably still drunk, it was only an hour or so ago, and it still made sense. Being drunk could be a factor too.

In vino veritas. In wine there is truth was the literal definition. She learned that in Latin II in high school. She did not like studying a dead language but her father insisted it was the base language of many other languages and the legal, medical, and scientific communities still relied heavily on it. The phrase meant that when someone was drunk they were more likely to reveal their true feelings. Was there truth in her wine? Was the fact she was drunk allowing her to recognize these feelings? Or was the fact she was drunk causing her to have these feelings?

She was drunk but not so drunk that she was going to make any declarations or life decisions in the state. She acknowledged the feelings and she would put them away for now, and deal with them when she was clear-headed. At this point she knew she was going to go to Daytona with Earl. That had to happen. She did not want to even think about going a whole week without him. She would insist on making his coffee. She would find a way to add herself to it. She would probably lose her job. She would have to lie to her parents about where she was going and who she was going with. She would recruit Elaine to help her with this lie. Fuck. Why was everything so complicated?

She looked down at something simple she could focus on. It lay on Earl's thigh, deflated, slimy with her juices, and looking delicious. Right now this was all that had to happen. She wanted him back in her. She wanted to come again. She wanted him to come again. She wanted to look at his handsome face when he came. She wanted to see how he saw her. She wanted to feel like he made her feel.

She slid her body down his until her face was level with his cock. It smelled like them, delicious, and she opened her mouth as she scooped up his heavy balls and the base of his cock into her right hand. She pushed the spongy head into her mouth then took it all the way down to the base. She felt it plump up in her mouth as blood flowed into it. She could taste the both of them, his come and hers, and the flavor made her gush. She inhaled through her nose so the smell of them would compliment the taste. He groaned and she lifted her head off him briefly.

"You ready to go again old man?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Indeed," he said and his cock throbbed in her fist. She pulled the skin down tight to the base and lowered her mouth over it.

Right now this was all that mattered. It didn't matter if she was drunk or sober while she did this. Not with him. Tomorrow for all the complicated shit. Tonight she wanted to do this. She wanted to this for her pleasure, but also for his. She wanted to make him look at her the way he did. She would not cry this time.