We have a guest

We had a guest last week. He was here for a whole week. Which was OK and all, because he’s cool and fun and easy going, but it was an unplanned visit which fucked up my final exams week and my fiance’s working-extra-hours-to-get-money-to-pay-for-my-ring work schedule. Also, the town where we live is quaint (which is just a polite way of saying “tiny as shit with nothing to see”), and it’s fucking freezing this winter, which means we spend most of our time at home. Watching TV. Which can get pretty lame pretty quickly.

But, like I said, he’s a cool and fun and easy going guy, so it was not been so terrible.

Except for the sleeping arrangements.

We have a two-room apartment, which in this country means one bedroom (ours) and one living-dining-guest-room thingy. Since it’s not made to be a sleeping room, the door does not close very well. And of course, as our luck would have it, he’s a light sleeper.

He’s a light sleeper and I’m a horny, screaming bitch.

FYI, not a good combination.

He arrived on Friday night last week. We picked him up at the airport, went out for beers and came back home at about 3 a.m.

Friday/Saturday, my fiancé and I had post-beer sex. I was super quiet, and in order to avoid loud noises, I stayed under.

Saturday/Sunday, we had after-party sex. I stayed under again, but raised my legs in such a way that the covers fell off the bed and my fiance’s enormous dick found my G-spot and it took all my self-control to not scream. But I could not contain myself at the end, so I let out a weird groan thingy…

Monday, we had Monday-Night-Sex. We fucked from behind to see if I could stay quiet, but I like it hard from behind, which makes it sound like he’s hitting me. So in order to avoid such unpleasant and ambiguous sounds, he fucked me slowly. Which did nothing for me. Nothing.

Tuesday, we had Valentine’s Day Sex. I stripped, slowly and tempting, got on top, came three times and wanted more. I moved the bed a couple of centimeters away from the wall, but I held my breath the whole time, so there could not have been any noise. But I wanted to come more – man, those Valentine’s Day roses made me horny as hell. I wanted to cum more, but my poor fiancé was too close to cumming himself – which of course meant that he has doing cute little noises.

Wednesday, we had Post-Valentine’s-Day-Sex. It is a common tradition to celebrate the love by fucking the next day as well. I came quickly and noiselessly.

Thursday, we had I-had-no-class-today-sex. I had showered late in the evening and my coochie was extra shaved and clean and fresh (I should seriously consider putting a mint or an ice-cube in there, it might make for a good experience!), so my fiancé was more than willing to go down… and stay down… After I came three times, he fucked me hard and I came one last time. I made noises. A lot of them.

Friday night we had drinks at home (Bacardi Rum special, 2×1). We then proceeded to have a Post-Rum fuck. This time my fiancé was on top and came in like 5 minutes. Which was OK, because I was too tired and drunk and could have fallen asleep had he not hurried up.

Saturday night we drank the last of the rum, the Bailey’s, the Amaretto, the wine, the Glühwein, the shots, the orange and apple juice, and whatever other liquid we could get our hands on. I swear we tried to fuck, but our bodies were just not cooperating. I wasn’t wet and he wasn’t hard. It’s the type of thing you only understand when you love someone. And, to be honest, we were both happy to have one fuck-less day in the week.

On Sunday (yesterday) he left, which of course means we had We-No-Longer-Have-Guests-Sex, which brought about the most amazing orgasms, because I could let go and scream freely the whole time. I swear our neighbors are deaf.

The thing is – I was sure I had been extra quiet and extra careful and extra good… because I am loud. Very loud. Too loud. But on the way to the airport, our guest said, “Hey, I noticed that you have trouble sleeping, I recommend you drink [insert brand] tee. It really helps you to calm your nerves and sleep soundly.”

“Thanks, but… Why do you say that?”, I asked.

“Well,” he said, “I noticed that you move around a lot at night, and that you cannot fall asleep easily. I hear you rocking and rolling and tossing and turning and making weird noises and, well, I just wanted to help.”

*oops*

Do you think he knew we were fucking the whole week and just wanted to make me feel bad? Or do you believe that he seriously thinks I have a sleeping problem?

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