The Self Portrait

He said he was sending me a self-portrait. It didn't come through. He sent it again. Same thing - AOL had converted it to a MIME file, whatever that is. Finally, it came through. When I opened the file, I was appalled. I thought it would be a shot of his face, his chest, anything but what he'd sent me. I closed it immediately only to reopen it again and again. Why would he send a photo such as this? What was he trying to say?

I put the photo out of my head until I re-discovered it a few days later while cleaning up my hard drive. Again, I was horrified but I couldn't look away from the cigarette, deliberately placed by his naked thigh. I tried to figure out if he was hung well enough to be worth the trouble... I closed the file, dragged it into the trash and went to bed.

In a matter of minutes he was there, smoking his cigarette, laying on his back while he stared incessantly at the TV. I crawled between his legs and tried to get his attention. He took another drag. My moist tongue had no problem getting his dick's attention as it slid ever so slowly up the base of his shaft to its quivering head. He exhaled. I took him completely into my mouth and was reminded how deep my throat really was... He took another drag and changed the channel. He wasn't going to give me a reaction, that was his game. I figured I may as well get mine, so I slid my thong to one side and again took him in. He had what he wanted, his cigarette and his fucking TV.

As I was getting close I thought about slitting his mother-fucking throat. Perhaps I would get a reaction out of him then. The thought of synchronizing my thrusts with his gasps, his last gasps, took me to the edge. I didn't care that my pelvic and hip bones were piercing him as I thrust and ground deeper and harder until I was done.

I didn't know if he came and I didn't care. I rested my head on his stomach and wondered what it would be like to fuck an amputee, someone with no arms or legs. At least he wouldn't smoke and change channels while I fucked him. I liked having a sex toy with legs, though, so I entertwined mine with his and fell asleep.

I got up the next morning, walked over to my computer, pulled his self-portrait out of the trash and opened it again. This time, instead of a look of disdain, I had a huge smirk on my face. I closed the file, dragged it back in the trash, emptied it and went back to sleep.

 

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