Used condom in an elevator

The weather yesterday was wet and cold. I decided to kill time in our usual cyber café in town that we have christened the ‘jobless corner.’ It was hot and crowded as usual. Done, I went to the elevator. Joined a lone lady. We stepped in and we were the only ones in the elevator. I noticed a used condom on the floor lying next to an open packet. Complete with its juice. It kept me thinking. At 4 pm, only four floors, how did they do it? Did they meet in the elevator and decided to cavort or they made the decision elsewhere and decided to execute it there. Could four floors suffice to have an orgasm? How can one romp in a moving elevator?

I used to brag that I was a fast dater, that guy beat my record ten folds. I drew the attention of the lady to the spent arsenal. She told me, the weather might have set off the craving, but it was good they had safe sex! What a reply!

Clandestine sex is sweeter. Could not figure out how it is in an elevator. Maybe I should ask Tiger Woods where he did his.

I could not go home immediately because I dread traffic. With rains, traffic can extend for eternity. A friend called me for a drink at Frelas, I wasted not a minute. I was hungry but food and drink never compete in my world. Drinking always win. I ordered for a cold beer.

Used to lunch there when I used to be flush. I became broke and gave the restaurant a wide berth. I think it is a year since I was there. The place is not changed much. The same drab establishment. Waiters were excited to see me. I used to dole out generous tips when I had them. Amidst wide grins, they asked where I had been, I bluffed that I had been in the US. It was not a hard sell. I was dressed the part. Sat drinking with my buddies.

My pals were drunk and decided to leave. Had to leave with them. Could not afford to drink anymore. As I made to leave, I met a gal who was clocking out. Could not place whether she was a waiter, a chef or a cashier. But she was familiar. We struck a conversation as we descended the stairs. She asked where I have been. Said she knew me. I repeated my lie. I wanted to make myself expensive. Mention that you are in the US and every gal strips her panty. They see you in dollars. The gal was definitely excited.

One thing I have learned with dating when broke: appeal to greed. Talk big money as long as you are dressed okay. All women are gold diggers. The style is what varies. I chatted up the gal. She was neither cute, pretty nor attractive. But when I am drunk, I take a one night stand on pussie value not face value.

My friend had called me earlier for a drink in the hood. On this strength I convinced the girl we go for a drink. You see, I had no money. She was reluctant but I half pushed, half dragged her to the terminus. I knew I had made a catch the moment the taxi left the stage.

I called my mate and he told me he was in Visa Place. We dropped there and we were bought for drinks. I got drunk. Took the gal to my digs. I screwed her. True to expectations, she was not sweet. She told me she is a chef. I guessed the onions she cut at the restaurant have, over time, entered her pussie. Her hands were reeking of onions. I fucked her anyway.

She is still asleep. Have noticed she is got some facial hairs. It scared me. I almost brought home a transsexual. It gave me the creeps. Now she wants to leave. Told her to take the turning on the left. That way leads to the road. I don’t wonna be seen with this ugly thing.

What alcohol will get me into is hard to fathom.