What time…, wait it’s fucking Saturday. Saturday! I’m so messed up, what when wrong?” The fleshly and over-sexed 23 year old whispered in her ...ead. A faint and feeble flavor of crotch and cum stuck in her throat like the seasoning of a Christmas goose. The taste vivid on her dry lips, the memory muted by the rounds of rum. Tricia Saratopia, an attractive and confident deli clerk from Hampton, New Hampshire stirred about, shifting uneasily in her bed slowly, almost slow motion, touching her. I hurried to hold her hair out of the toilet water again and gave her more water in a glass to swirl and spit when she was done.Afterwards she was leaning against the wall next to the toilet paper roll and moaning weakly. I asked her if she wanted help to her bed. Keeping her eyes shut, she shook her head no, saying everything went swirly when she laid down. Then she called me an asshole.I felt that was a tad unjust but when I asked why, she just said, "Because!"How could I argue against that. More

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