Monkey Business

layla’s new fantasy

Wednesday, March 17, 1:32 a.m.

Don’t tell me…did he just fall asleep? With his hand on my clitoris? While he was trying to make me orgasm? We just had sex, and he came, and now it was my turn to come. Or it would have been if he hadn’t fallen asleep.

I’m not impressed. Just because he’s well endowed doesn’t mean he can take naps in the middle of coitus. He’s too big. It hurt when he inserted himself at certain angles. His penis is very straight, and could use a curve, like my banana.

Now what am I supposed to do? I wish I had my banana. No movement. I nudge him again. “Hello? My turn.”

Dead to the world.

Maybe if I catalogue the contents in his room I’ll fall asleep. His closet is open and I can see one, two, three, four, five, six…ten…no fifteen pairs of shoes. How many shoes does one man need? Shoes aside, I’m still aroused.

Maybe if I think about something non-sexy, like snow, I’ll be able to fall asleep.

Lots of snow. White snow. Wet snow. Wet.

Now I’m getting all aroused again. I guess I’ll have to do it myself. I turn over and slip my hand downward. He doesn’t move. I start to rub just a little bit. All good. He still isn’t moving.

As I start getting a little more into it, I notice that the bed is shaking. Not shaking a lot like in the Exorcist, but just rocking like we’re having a minor earthquake.

I stop and the bed stops shaking. Then I start again, slowly. He groans and turns over.

I freeze. But his eyes are still closed. I start again. Then stop.

This is kind of a turn-on. Once again I start. This time I picture a scene from an erotic novel I read years ago. A man and a woman are dancing at a party. The guy lifts up her skirt and undoes his fly, and they have sex right there in the middle of the dance floor. People are dancing right next to them, but no one can see a thing.

My legs start shaking.

And I imagine I’m dancing, moving around the dance floor, and he’s whispering into my ear, how good I feel, how good he feels, and it’s…my God, it’s Jamie!…and my legs are shaking, and the floor is shaking, and the bed is rocking…uhoh, the bed is really rocking, and I’m about to orgasm-

“What are you doing?” Brad asks, sitting up.

I stop. “Trying to orgasm.”

“You’re shaking the bed,” he says, then turns over.

Well, excuse me! As I wait for lover-boy to fall back to sleep, I realize something: he doesn’t have any fish. I didn’t see an aquarium anywhere in the apartment. Why did he write his whole essay on fish if he doesn’t have even one? What kind of lying freak am I dating?

I knew there would be something wrong with him. I sit up, put back on my clothes, leave him a goodbye-and-don’t-call note, and sneak out.

When I’m back home in bed, I return to the party.

Jamie, huh? Passionate, loving, caring Jamie.

Oh, Jamie!