He Doesn't Get It

He sighs, more out of exasperation and frustration than out of resignation, "Yeah I just might be starting to realize that. I mean you say the wrong thing once and-"

"Do you really think you only said the wrong thing once?" I snap, cutting him off.

"I think your friend there is pissed she didn't have the very best of times last night," he counters, his teeth gritted and his words strained, "I think she's got her panties in a bunch because she met someone who doesn't put her pussy on a pillar and decided to downgrade to someone who will put her up as high as she thinks she deserves. And I think she's in for a rude awakening when she gets old enough that her tits start to sag and no one wants to stoop low enough to fuck her anymore. Then she'll regret-"

"Save it," I cut him off again, "You're stating to sound like an asshole. Actually counter that, you always sounded like an asshole but now you're starting to sound like an insufferable one to boot."

I can feel him tense beside me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him fist clench.

"You know there really is only so much **** a guy can take before he starts to pop off," he snarls.

"Oh really? Based on last night I would have figured popping off too early was a safe and familiar space for you."

"Fuck you, Emily," he grunts.

I roll my eyes and fix him with my best winning smile, "Not even in your dreams, Blake."

The group starts to move and I trail along. Blake half-stumbles but falls into step, doubling his pace until he's able to amble along right next to me.

"I don't know about that," he coos cruelly, "Do you forget what we've done? Do you forget how I made you feel? Do you forget what I made you do?"

I hadn't. In the bushes when he made me cum so hard that it terrified the fuck out of me. Hidden behind tents in the club fair when he covered my gasping body with his cum. Watching the movie last night where he brushed his fingers against my trembling skin and made me ache for more.

There were a lot of things I could fault Blake for. There were a lot of fucking things that I could fault Blake for. But the one thing I couldn't say about him was that he was bad in bed.

The only evidence I had of that was one meager performance with Rachel that, frankly, was still far longer than I'd lasted with her in my female body and far far longer than I ever would have in my male one.

Blake was a lot of things but a bad lay he was not. And the truth is that he knew it, he knew I knew it, and he knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't deny it.

The most I could do is shrug and try to downplay it.

"I'll admit to this, you might have one single redeeming quality. But I'm going to leave it at that. You aren't going to get anything else out of me."

"Funny," he replies, "That's not what I had in mind to get out of you."

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