The Fireman (Part 3)

My entire body aches. My legs hurt. My arms hurt. My back hurts. Even my hair hurts.


Because I had The Fireman over Saturday night, that’s why.

Remember me telling you that I wasn’t as worried about him not writing me back as I was about him actually writing me back? I was right.

The moment I saw those 87” inch biceps and broad shoulders I knew there was going to be some serious fucking going on. Considering the dry spell I’d been having I had a lot to make up for. It’s been nearly two months since I’ve had my insides tickled and frankly I had some needs that needed to be taken care of.

The Fireman arrived at my place rather late on Saturday night. He’d had to work so I excused the tardiness. I should have had him wear his uniform over. Now that would have been HOT. I did, after all, have my own fire that needed putting out.

He picked me up and we decided to go out for a few bottles of wine. The only place open was a CVS so with the rest of the late nighters and half drunk assholes coming in from the closing bars we headed to the alcohol department. It was at this time I realized one unfortunate trait owned by The Fireman.

He was a loud talker.

Up and down the aisles he proceeded to tell me about crazy nights that included himself and mass quantities of Hennessy. As if it wasn’t bad enough that we were shopping for cheap wine at 1 in the morning, we (meaning he) were actually louder than the drunken idiots in there trying to act sober. The only difference being that we were actually sober. I found myself lowering my voice and then actually not talking in hopes that he would follow my lead. No such luck. The only highlight as I tried to distance myself from Lil Wayne was getting the chance to walk behind the hot loud talker and take full stock of what I was about to see disrobed and panting within the hour.

Of course, at this time of the evening CVS only employs checkers that are incapable of ringing people up and/or reading so we had to wait 15 minutes while Mr. CVS Checkout guy rang up a pack of gum. Just enough time for The Fireman to continue his stories of debauchery and to give me a chance to hear his Transformers ringtone. Correction, give the entire store enough time to hear of his stories and ringtone.

Once out in the parking lot, I began to breathe again knowing that we wouldn’t be sharing our business with the entire town.

We got back to my place and made ourselves cozy. We talked, laughed, drank lots of wine and generally had a very nice time. With the wine finished and morning approaching we got down to business.

In those next few hours, Mr. Fireman more than made up for the loud talking. He knew how to handle his business and riding that black stallion was worthy of Penthouse Forum. Just as I’d predicted, we were quite compatible and there was nothing left to the imagination. Any dry spell that I was having was completely quenched and we quickly fell asleep in a sweaty mess on top of the covers.

We slept in the next morning and I awoke to my head on his broad chest with his huge arm around me. A little groggy from the wine and late night erotica we gave round two a go before him getting ready to leave. As much as I wanted to chain him to my bed for all of eternity I let him leave about noon so he could drive back to his hood and do the things he had left undone in the few hours he had left before heading to work again.

He may not be relationship material but then again, I’ve come to the conclusion that I may not be either. However, with the sexual chemistry we both had he has definitely made his way to the front of my little black book. I won’t be going out with him in public due to his loud talking ways but rest assured, he can make as much noise as he wants when he’s behind the closed doors of my Den of Iniquity.

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Before I begin, let me apologize for this post being so disjointed.  It was difficult for me to figure out how to cram so much bullshit into one entry 😉

The Fireman (Part 2)

Fireman Update: Less than a day after sending The Fireman my eloquently crafted email I received a response from him. I grabbed myself a bottle of water and braced myself


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  1. brewers_rule
    March 30, 19:41 Reply
    Chained to Melissa's bed for all eternity? Hmmmm. Sounds like a sentence a saint couldn't get enough biblical credit to deserve, or a devil for that matter ;)<br /><br />If 2 months is a dry spell complete w/cobwebs, where does that leave my 1 year plus? A bat cave from which I'll go blind instantaneously from sunshine when finally emerging? Blindness is a small price to pay for some great sex, I guess, at this point anyway.
  2. Ken
    March 31, 12:56 Reply
    Emotional connections are grossly overrated. Sexual chemistry is where it's at.
  3. Julie
    March 31, 19:09 Reply
    Sweet Jesus, I need a cigarette now. ;)
  4. yannibmbr
    April 01, 00:18 Reply
    Damn. This is some hot sh*t, doll. Really. <br /><br />@brewers_rule, my buddy had a SEVEN year dry spell! Seven. I think that's no longer a dry spell by any stretch. Whatevs.

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