Boots had just had wine. She was never a drinker and could feel the slight buzz from a half of a glass. She sat down at her computer to write to lover, Snarky. He had told her that he would be out of town for the week through the weekend and into the next week. This was his excuse for not being able to communicate with her. She didn’t even know where he was. Was he in Egypt? Covert activities for Mubarak? Perhaps he was doing an international mergers and acquisition deal. In any event, he was always withholding and secretive. He was most likely trying to bill a client for a trip to Dallas so that he could see the Super Bowl. Boots suspected he worked late so he would have expense “able” dinners in lavish restaurants.
If only Boots could be there with him now…he would only stay in the best hotels…she could just wait for him in bed until he came back from his boring dinners with his Texan moguls, bankers and attorneys. Boots would know how to relax him. He would drunkenly throw his suit on the floor and fumble into bed only to find Boot’s warm legs wrapping around his pot belly and back and intertwining her feet. They would writhe together like that until he would realize that he was too drunk to perform in any meaningful way. Boots could read him. She would move under the covers to take control of her hapless man.
He was self conscious about the size of his penis…but it made no difference to Boots. She would snuggle up and take it into her mouth. It brought flashes of happy times when he suckled at his mother’s breast. He imagined that his penis was a breast filling her with sustenance every time she enveloped his small tool in her soft warm mouth-until she had had her fill.