Maybe Greg

“While we fuck he speaks Jamaican to me.”

I met Maybe Greg out at a bar one night when I was very intoxicated. He was a tall Jamaican guy with a thick accent and a face that looks way too old for his body. We grind together and then he asks me if I smoke weed. Of course I do.

He says his place is right around the corner. I ask my girlfriends permission to go home with a stranger alone in the city. They approve. We jump in a cab and go uptown a few blocks to his walk up apartment. When we get inside we smoke on his couch and he makes me lay on my stomach so he can massage my back. I’m in heaven.

Of course one thing leads to the next and we are in his bed. I can get pretty horny when I’m stoned. We’re fucking and he is flipping me all over the damn place. One minute my legs are beneath me, then they’re up in the air; he is manually shifting my body into a new position every couple minutes. His dick is pretty big, definitely in circumference more than anything else, but then I notice he is getting limp. Whiskey dick sucks…

It’s cool though, it happens. I can’t cum vaginally anyways and we were too drunk for me to care enough to instruct him on how to touch me right. Plus, my friend is calling my cell phone because our other friend is violently throwing up. Classic.

He begs me to sleepover, promising more weed and takeout food and movies. Honestly, I’d rather just go home. He comes outside with me and hails me a cab and gives me $20 cash.

The next thing I know I wake up on the couch at my friend’s apartment. It is morning time. I see a new number in my text messages but the contact isn’t saved yet. What was his name? I wanna say, maybe, Greg. I save him as Maybe Greg in my phone.

Over the following two weeks he texts me every day. He asks me to hangout with him constantly. I dodge him at first. I’m not totally positive that I would think he was attractive when I was sober. Eventually one night I’m out for drinks after work with some friends and I decide…tonight is the night.

Maybe Greg comes in a cab to pick me up and brings me back to his place. When we get there we smoke, and then begin getting sexual even quicker than we had the last time. He hasn’t been drinking like he was on the night we met, so we don’t experience any more technical difficulties.

While we fuck he speaks Jamaican to me. I’m not sure if Jamaican is a technically a language but I know that they haveĀ a lot of slang or alternative phrases that we don’t say in American English. I told him I didn’t know what he was saying, but I liked it. He talked a lot. Which I also liked. He was also rough…pulling my hair from behind, choking me, etc. I enjoy all of it.

We bang twice before we go to sleep.

I wake up at 6:20AM to Maybe Greg stroking my thighs. At first I whine that I have to get up for work, but I am easily convinced and we begin fucking again. The prior day I had told him that I was exhausted and stressed from my day at work. While he fucks me in the morning he says to me in a sexual tone, “you gonna have a better day today? hah?” It is hot.

When we are done I go back to sleep for about 20 minutes. Wake up. Realize I don’t have a hair brush or hair tie, and reluctantly put on my clothes feeling totally disgusting. I get an Uber to work and do my makeup in the bathroom before I go in. I grab a Gatorade from a Duane Reade to get ahead of the hangover that is about to hit me.

I’m not sure if I want to see Maybe Greg again, but I’ll keep you updated.

Love,

Anonymous Bitch

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