She Rides My Dick

I assumed it was an accident, but I should’ve known that Liesel always did everything on purpose. She opened the door in her underwear — a plain white bra, and even plainer white panties — chewing on an apple core. She asked me what I wanted. What I wanted was to be anywhere but there, anywhere but in Liesel’s doorway watching her gnaw the last bits of sweet flesh off of that core in her underwear, but she didn’t give me that option. I tried to hold out the sweater, to tell her she left it at my apartment, but she just took my wrist and pulled me in and shut the door behind me and asked me another question. Later, people said I should’ve saw it coming. But with Liesel, I could never tell. She had the craziest ideas. It always took me a few minutes longer to catch up to her than to anyone else. That was why I didn’t answer when she asked me if I’d ever been with a woman. I was trying to process (therapist should like that one) what she’d just said, and maybe that’s why I found myself. I ate my luch as she started to drowse from the food. I finished up, tossed the evidence in a bin and picked her up, then slowly walked up to the marina offices. They had some terrycloth robes and big red T-shirts for sale. I bought two of each in about our sizes and arranged for a shower. I got her sitting on the bench and stripped off her threadbare dress. It's a wonder that she hadn't dried up and blown away. I could count her ribs and vertebrae. I put on a robe and got our clothes into a washing machine then returned to see how she was doing. She was still zonked out on the bench. I set the temperature of the shower for something less than scalding then carried her under the spray. It woke her enough so that she stood while I double-washed her hair. Then I dutifully washed her everywhere that she had a place to wash. When everything showed pink I scrubbed myself up, turned off the water then got us both dried off and minimally dressed. I carried her on one arm as I got our clothes.
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