Frog Fucker

Submitted by Amber Smith

I'm taking deep breaths. I'm trying not to think, but feel. George's tongue makes me twitch. I can still taste his breath--it's fowl. And he is breathing heavy and blowing it on me. And now his face is in between my legs. But I can't relax. His tongue is everywhere. Often it's in just the right spot. But then it slickly moves, dragging fowl spit on my inner thigh. I can't take it. I start quick sighs of frustration (he thinks I'm excited). Then I try pushing his head back, insincerely when he goes astray. He stops. He comes up to kiss me. He thinks he's teasing me. He is really pissing me off. Turning me off. I smile like I'm faking a lemon is sweet and push him back down again.

"Just concentrate!" I huff. He looks up, confused that I'm angry. Not cumming. I put my clothes back on. I'm over this, I feel, but say nothing. I lay him down and hug him closely. I can feel my insides straining to want him. To take him and kiss him deeply and let him love me the way he wants to. But I can't because I hate his mouth.

Earlier, while watching TV, drinking beers, and kissing, I pulled his tongue out with my thumb and finger and told him: "You know I don't like you (I wish the sentenced ended here) licking my face like that." He laughs that annoying Ernie laugh...or is it Bert? His voice is so strange. And he thinks I think it's cute. I turn the captions on for Family Guy so I can read a hilarious story while pretending to listen to his never ending one.

I straddle him on the sofa. It instantly feels good. And I instinctively know our parts would fit perfectly together. But I want him to smell good. And he doesn't. So I just can't. I feel I'm being selfish, picky, critical, and overly sensitive. And maybe instead of acting like a brat, I could tell him what I'm thinking. But that won't solve his bad breath. And neither will mints. I see him eating them all the time. I let him carry me like a baby monkey into his dark bedroom. This is better. I'm getting wetter. But suddenly, in the dark, his comical voice is disembodied and hence more apparent. I think, Kermit the Frog is trying to fuck me. But his touch. It never stops caring. He's so sweet and good and gentle. He moves in a rhythm on top of me (still tucked safely in his jeans). He's got me spread naked in front of him. Moaning and giggling. Avoiding his exhalations ever so coyly. I let him kiss his way down my body. I want to fuck him so badly but his face will be too close to mine and I will suffocate in his bad breath. Plus I'm really scared what his voice will sound like when we're fucking. So I let him go down on me instead. And that is where this never ending story began.