“--which is why I think it would be best to schedule another meeting with your father sometime this week. A meeting I hope you attend this time.”
I’m completely drained of any energy I had when my night begun but I muster up some fake excitement for his reconsideration. “I will definitely be there. Thank you for coming around, Mr. Okata. I’m sure my father will be delighted to hear the news.”
“Please, call me Itsuki”, he says patting me on the back. “I look forward to seeing you again, Ben. Thank you for tonight.”
I hop out of the SUV and turn back to get one last look at the ghastly man before walking into my home. I notice that there is some fresh blood on his fingertips as he waves goodbye. What a monster of a man he is. I can’t wait to absorb his company and leave the fucker hanging out to dry. Eagerly, I phone my dad and give him the good news.
“Wha-- But-- I have to admit, I’m astounded. Ben, you… I don’t even want to know what you did to get Mr. Okata to change his mind but I’m glad you did it. Thank you, son. This won’t go unnoticed, this is a step in the right direction for you. Keep at it”, he says, without letting me getting a single other word in.
Dad hangs up and leaves me alone. Alone, again. Alone with my thoughts. Thoughts of Itsuki doing unspeakable things to helpless women. Thoughts of missing out on an orgy with some babes. Thoughts of being alone.
Following that train of thought, I’m left to think of the kind of person I’d want to come home to. The kind of person I’d considering being in a relationship with and maybe even marrying, as my Dad hopes for. Someone who would greet me with open arms and a myriad of questions about how my day with the maniacal Okata went. She’d give me a kiss on the cheek, and lead me over to the bedroom where she would undress me and comfort me with a backrub.
She’d have to look the part, too. Great, smackable ass. Perfect tits. A small frame. She’d have to be unlike any woman I’ve been with in the past. Someone who has a brain. Someone who gives a shit about others. And she’d have one thing in common with all of my greatest crushes in life. Red hair. Lucille Ball, Misty from Pokemon, Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully, Julianne Moore in Boogie Nights, Emma Stone. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a soft spot and a hard spot for redheads.
Nobody on my list of contacts fits this description. Sure, it’s a very strict criteria but there are over 6 billion people on Earth, surely I should be able to find one woman who would check off all of these items. None of the women I’ve met here in Vegas are marriage material, even if it’s a fake marriage. They’re all 20-something party girls with no depth to them. I need a real woman to be with.
A woman who could, for example, help me forget about the day I’ve had with some love. And some loving.
I messily undress and collapse on my bed. I run my hands down my body and tightly hold my flaccid cock with both hands. More thoughts of this fantasy woman run through my mind. She’d be the one making my cock grow, not me. She’d start out by giving the head of my penis some timid licks until I was fully erect. Then, her shyness would melt away and be replaced by an animalistic hunger for dick. She’d slap my cock against her fact harder and harder to test it, and make sure it was hard enough to ride. But before riding, she’d make sure the initial thrust was smooth by taking the entire length of my cock in her mouth and down her throat.
“Choke me with that monster”, she’d say. As I imagine her saying these words, I instead choke my monster with both of my hands and start to give myself some slow strokes.
I would shove my veiny piece further and further down her throat until her lips reach the base of my cock, and she has tears of happiness (and lack of oxygen) streaming down her face. She’d make sure that every last bit of my cock was covered in her lubricating saliva. She would work her jaw on me until she was satisfied with its level of lubrication and would climb on top of me to get to please me like no other woman could.
At least she’d try.
My dream lady would climb on top of me in an attempt to take the reigns only to be thrown on the bed faced down and pinned by my weight. I’d wrap my fingers around her wrists and hold her down while I force my cock between her thighs.
“Don’t you want to struggle a little”, I’d ask.
She’d giggle and try to fruitlessly fight me off while I make my way inside her. Inch by inch, I’d bury my thickness deeper into her while she tries her hardest to hide how much pleasure she’s feeling. We both tremble in ecstasy as I slam my member into her repeatedly. She moans and tells me that she’s in pain. When I ask her if I should stop, she laughs and insists I hurt her more.
I release her wrists and instead force my hands under her chest and hold on tightly to her tits. Big, but not too big. Just the perfect size. I play with her nipples while I make her whole body shake with each impact of my pelvis against her round behind. She begs for more as I ramp up to my explosive ending.
If only what was happening in my mind could happen in reality.
I’m left cleaning up my spilled over cum from my hands instead of having a gorgeous lady take care of it for me with her tongue. It’s a shame that all of this cum has to go to waste. Same with these emotions.
The more time I spend alone, the more I’m starting to realize that my father is right. After he divorced my mom, he spent his life in solitude and all he has to show for it is a company he doesn’t have any passion to continue being in charge of. Now that I have this time to think introspectively, I’m coming to the conclusion that my father may just want me to avoid ending up like him. Rich, but miserably alone.
The life I’ve lived thus far has resulted in me adopting some misogynistic habits and beliefs. I try to convince myself that I only need women for sex, but my heart craves something more now. All it took was some time alone to realize this. But I do want to be with someone. Not just anyone.
A really special someone.