What Happens Behind Closed Doors - Sex Stories

What Happens Behind Closed Doors

... predictable. You watch a few movies that involve the quirky outcast girl and model yourselves after them. Doesn’t work like that in the real world. Now, since you caught me on a good day, I can show you what life outside of fantasy land is really like. And, who knows? Maybe one thing leads to another and you can be one of my regulars. You’re not that bad looking, so play your cards right, you can set your name down for Mondays. Fair warning, I’m someone who likes it freaky. If you think you’re not into that, don’t worry. I’ll show you that you are.”

She just looks at me, considering the opportunity of the lifetime in front of her. I don’t blame her. There’s a lot to consider. She’s probably thinking of how she can bump it up to Friday. I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s impossible, bu-

“Gee, mister,” she starts, “I’ve never had someone be that thorough with me before. You’ve got me all figured out. Such a dissection of my character, and you’ve only spoken to me for two minutes. How could you possibly be able to gather that much attention from someone in that amount of time.”

“It’s a gift. You either got it or you don’t.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ve got a trick of my own.”

“I’m sure you do. But if you’re not gonna answ-”

“It involves the sight of unspoken tones

You say you see those that aren’t said

But what about those that are meant for the dead?

For, behind closed doors are information for the sneaky

Which is why you should be wary when you traverse ...

... minds that are freaky

So I give to you the sip of knowledge

Of what goes on in the lives of the NEET, the housewife, and the one who should be preparing for college.

Drink up, you son of a bitch.”

She then gives me a slap across my face, causing an echo of the impact to be heard around the store before walking off. Now, while she should spend a bit more time in her poetry class, I will admit that she sure packs a wallop. Good Lord. But something else catches my attention. Was her hand...glowing? Was I just slapped with glitter? Whatever. Her loss. Bright side, I’ve got an interesting story.

I head over to purchase my things and head to my car. As I make my way home, the previous event starts playing in my head again. What the hell was that girl on? She could not have been sobre. I mean, “The sight of unspoken tones”? What does that even mean? Bullet dodged, I guess. I’ve learned my lesson about sticking my dick in crazy.

I make it home and put my things away, sniffing my candles and the greatest flavor combination for lotion to ever be conceived. But after setting down my pizza to preheat the oven, I get an overwhelming sense of drowsiness coursing throughout my body. My arms are getting heavy, my balance is shot, and my vision’s blurry. What is going on? I slept a full eight hours.

I head to my couch, sitting down on it. Ok, since I can’t possibly function with all of this going on, I guess I’ll take a quick power nap. But no more than a half hour. I try to ...