Not well.

As I was wiped sweat off my forehead (it's work to give a quick blow job under a blanket while fully clothed) and sucked cum from my teeth, I became aware of Sarah's facial expression. She wasn't happy. She actually looked hostile. Faux hostile? Bemused hostile? I still don't know. But I do know that her official response was akin to other transgressions: the **** of Archbishop Franz Ferdinand of Austria, the invasion of Poland, and the trading of Babe Ruth to the Yankees. War was on, though I didn't know it yet.

She left the room, and I--somewhat distracted--brought the guy back to my room, where we quickly went to sleep.

Early the next morning, over coffee and a bagel, I initiated our break-up discussion. I was 80% finished. So close. I'd already explained that it wasn’t him, it was me, blah, blah, as if I’d actually dump someone because they were just too fucking awesome. With tears in his eyes, he was saying that he wasn’t _all that _awesome and I wasn’t _all that _terrible, a narrative line that I intended to tolerate for about two more minutes. Just as his tale of psychological woe began to stretch into a litany of the many ways he needed me--yawn--Sarah wandered by, wearing only panties, on her way to the kitchen. Whatever maudlin sentiment had been churning through his mind dissipated, and his mouth hung open, as if looking to catch flies.

It's interesting to watch a reptilian brain try to process an unexpected set of tits. It's just so difficult for that brain to carry on with anything higher order, like talking or breathing. Without giving the guy a chance to recover, Sarah returned from the kitchen, eating an apple. We both stared. A yoga instructor, Sarah's body looked like a lanky adolescent boy with great smallish boobs and the face of a freckled innocent. She wouldn't be everyone's absolute ideal, but when I’m feeling lesbianish, she’d be mine, and a nearly naked Sarah was certainly hot enough to induce an immediate erection in my very predictable almost-ex boy/manfriend.

I had a quick thought about Sarah's choice of interruption (apple, tits, serpent, Eve, Adam, modesty, sin), but then I looked at the dick that had unfurled in his frat boy khakis, and I found my own slit getting damp. Damn, I thought, as I dragged him to my room. Mr. Reliable knows it's probably our last time, will want to prove I'll be missing out, and will likely convert his anger into sexual aggression.

Sexualized rage from a young lovelorn guy with a friendly, sweet-smelling dick? Yes, please! In honor of the occasion, I planned in advance to channel my inner Asian girl histrionics and do some shriekings for both the soon-to-be ex-boyfriend and for the judgy exhibitionistic roommate. Though "planning" consisted of the 3 seconds it took to walk us back into my bedroom.

While pulling off my panties, I looked at the clock. 7:24. I smiled when I realized I could thoroughly bang the boy, finalize the break up, and still make it to work on time without having to take a taxi.

Both of us naked, he pushed me onto the bed. Bypassing our usual foreplay, he thrust himself into me. I loudly and provocatively protested that it was just too much!, but I don't think he was paying much attention. So I shifted to Korean, and whispered how much I wanted him to fuck me with his curiously little dick. Not knowing what I was saying, of course, but aware that this might be his last chance at my pussy, he pounded. I wondered if he was planning to quickly fuck me and leave. That would certainly be somebody's MO, but I knew him and his penis all too well. He can be as dominant as he wants, but I knew that as soon as he came, he'd be on his knees, licking me into spasms. This time, Mr. Dominant would also be licking out his own cum while I jammed myself rather forcefully onto his face while narrating everything in a voice that couldn't help but resonate into Sarah's room. And then he could get back to his second round (ah, the pleasures of dating a 23 year old), and then to the coffee, the break up, the chaste hug, the subway, and work.

As I felt the guy moan, "Oh, God" into my neck, and begin his slow descent to the licking of the slit, I really did think that Sarah and I would be laughing about the blow job later that evening, over a glass of wine, but I was wrong.

Little did I know that the war had begun.