Stop her

While her hot, moist mouth feels amazing right now, this is a bit too much, too fast. Your low self-esteem and timid nature kick in after a minute or two and unfortunately override your libido. "Wait, stop." Veruca seems to ignore you and keeps going. You get louder and a bit more forceful, pushing her head out of your lap. "No! I said STOP!"

The cocksucker notices you're stopping her and lets you out of her mouth with some drool strings still connecting her mouth and your dick. She gives you an uneasy look. "Was I not doing it right?"

Knowing you're being a pussy, you have to ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Your new nemighbor looks briefly confused. "You…" she pauses, gathering her thoughts. "you looked like you were a little wound up, so I wanted to help you relax." The nearly naked black girl perks up suddenly. "If you didn't like the blowjob, we can do something else!"

"Do you usually offer to suck off total strangers who seem wound up?" you ask.

Again, her confused look. "No. Why would I? I'm not some sort of slut who just gives head at the drop of a hat."

Your head is starting to hurt. And not the one below your waist. "But you're ok giving me some head after five minutes?"

She smiles. "Of course!"

OK. This chick is clearly nuttier than squirrel shit. And you do not want to deal with a potential psychopath who could go spare at the drop of a hat. "You need to leave."

Veruca becomes genuinely aghast at your order. "OK?" As she stands up and very reluctantly moves towards her clothes, she stops and becomes animated. "I can do other stuff, you know. Do you wanna fuck me? Impale me on your cock? You can stuff my pussy or ass as rough as you want! Hurt me if it's good for you!" She cups her fantastic breasts in a handbra. "Do you wanna titfuck? What do you want to do? I'll do it, no problem!"

No! Stay firm on this! Firmer than you were a few minutes ago, before she started talking like an easy lay! Try logic. "Why are you doing this, V?"

"Because…" you notice that everytime you question her motivation, she can't really give you a solid answer. "because you're tensed…up?" She doesn't sound so sure of herself. "And I don't want you to be….frustrated?"

You cover your face with both hands. She is way too hot to resist and you know if she's around you five minutes longer your cock will be back in her. You were always very weak willed. "Please leave, V." you mumble as clearly as you can through your hands.

Hearing the sounds of clothing rustling, a few minutes later, her voice reaches you from near your door. "I um…left my number on the counter." She sounds…sad? "Feel free to call if you need some action." Just before you hear the door close, she adds in, "Anytime."

It's another ten minutes before your feel controlled enough to look again. You're alone in your apartment and you still have a rapidly drying semi-wood. Fuck. You are not any less horny than when this shit started.

You evaluate your options. You need help. But how or from whom are you going to get help? Let's be rational. Your main problem is that you're horny and alone. You're getting tired of your hand and you don't want to buy a toy. You have some pride left. Looking around your bachelor pad, you mentally roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah right.

Bottom line. Women still scare you and yet you want to fuck them. You just had a hot, dark nympho offer herself to you and you literally pushed her away. Yesirree, you need help.

Immediately two ideas pop into your mind.

You know Veruca said she was introducing herself to the neighbors in the building. One of your closest neighbors and ones you've actually took the time to acquaint yourself with are the Hurmins a few doors down. Dale and Heather were a sensible, well adjusted couple. Dale was built like an all-offensive tackle, but was always good-humored towards you. He'd be good if you needed some muscle to help with any unforseen developments. Heather was the definition of a MILF. Former cheerleader who had aged very well. Slim waist with a big apple bottom and a rack just as big. She was always warm and probably gave reasonable advice. You could see if they were home and if they ran into Veruca and got any 'bad vibes' off of her.

Then again, your building didn't just have apartments. There were multiple business suites for professional offices. If you recall correctly, one of which was a therapist. Or psychoanalyst. Whatever. She was a brain person who did vulcan mind melds on your personality. You sure as hell didn't have a lot of money to spend on expensive thinking, but maybe she could give you a consult. Or refer you to a hotline of people who pretended to care about your sad boner problems.