And… Out She Comes Again (Dark Side part 2)

Updated: Jan 27

Ten days later, after being on the phone with Him for three hours, he asks, “Why don’t you just come over here instead of talking on the phone?” A buzzed, 10pm version of me gets just slightly giddy, just enough to agree. Why not? It was a Wednesday, he was going to rehab in just two days.

One shower and one drive to Him’s place later, I parked in a guest spot in the multi-floor garage and came face to face with the devil himself and his angelic, beautiful white shaggy dog.

The routine started the same. Pouring a strong drink and sitting on the couch, half watching tv, half making fun of each other. But it wasn’t the same. How do I know? I ended up naked getting seriously railed to the point where sweat was dripping down my face and my legs spasmed. Usually, this is where the Hims of the world go to sleep and by the time morning rolls around, you better have shown yourself out the door.

But not Him. Clinging to me under the covers, the Dark Side might as well have been a fatty at an all you can eat buffet she was so happy. When morning came, Him didn’t want me gone.


Him was the same as he had been the night before. Probably because he hadn't actually stopped drinking to become sober enough to realize he wanted me out. He made me laugh by twisting his long (unhard) dick into weird shapes, such as a hamburger. True story. I can't post that photo though (sorry).

Some time following two orgasms, around 1pm, the “wise” mind decided the Dark Side needed to go return to the back of the closet. I collected my crap and forced Him to walk me to the parking garage. He tempted me to skip going to the gym with another round of sweaty sex, but at that point luckily the Dark Side was buried under a pile of college sweatpants and couldn’t speak.

It makes me wonder… why does she even need to speak?

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