New Life in Rianate 5 - Sex Stories

New Life in Rianate 5

... into my skull. “You’re too young to sleep so late!” God, he reminded me of my Father. My eyes fluttered open to meet Boing’s heavy glare with her fluffy tail resting on my neck. She made her annoyed squeak sound, sneezed, stood up long enough to pad around and around in circles on my chest, then she plopped down and took up the pillow space. “You’re really no help at all,” I grumbled. She ignored me. I only had on a polka-dot bra, and black shorts, so I was extra chilly. Fuck, I did need to go check on Dallas—he REALLY knew how to drink. I rolled my neck on my shoulders, then pushed my messy hair back and out of my eyes. Tao was curled up in a little ball, with her arm under her cheek and her face smushed into the pillow. Cutie. Mumble and Mikey were chilling on the floor, with Mumble laying on Mikey’s side and Mikey snoozing with his face in his paws. I ran to the bathroom, took a hot shower, then quickly got dressed. If anything, leaving Dallas by himself while he was hungover was terrible. He was usually grumpy in the morning, but especially with a headache and tons of alcohol in his system. Ha, just to see him suffer…. Anyway, I grabbed my cellphone and stepped into my shoes then left the room. Oh boy. I walked into Dallas' place and saw the loose tee shirt on the couch. Peeking into the hallway, I saw the cracked bedroom door, and I heard Dallas shuffling the covers around. I sat my bag on the chair then slowly approached the bed. He was laying on his front, with his ...

... messy hair and his bare back to me. His Maxi looked sexy, but I wasn’t focused on that. I softly shook his shoulder. “Dallas,” my voice barely reached a whisper. He wasn’t budging. I shook his shoulder again. “Dallas.” Nada. I put my hand on the base of his neck and got close to his ear. “DALLAS!” “WHAT THE FUCK!” Dallas popped up and threw a pillow at me. “Ow!” “Oh, baby.” He groaned. Dallas rubbed my cheek and said, “I’m sorry, but don’t do that.” “It’s… fine? Jesus, boy, get up!” I poked his shoulder but Dallas didn’t smile. “When did you get home?” “Uh…” Dallas glared at the clock on his nightstand. His normally bright blue eyes were reflecting his mood: dull and crestfallen. “2am, I think. I dunno.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his thighs, and his head down. I ran my fingers through his messy locks, making Dallas sigh and rest his head on my stomach. “Maybe a shower,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Shush. I know, I’m dirty and need a shower. And, dear God, I need food! And coffee! And sleep! Ughh,” Dallas flopped back onto the bed and covered his face with a pillow. He still had on his jeans, but they were low-rise so I had a good view. “Rebel, maybe you shouldn’t stay out so long, since you enjoy sleeping the day away.” I called him Rebel for two reasons: it was his middle name, and Dallas read this story about a guy named Rebel who always drank. Plus, he was my little Rebel. “Not in the mood for jokes.” His voice was muffled but I could hear him ...