Chapter 4 – The Diary of Gloria
Wednesday –
I woke up at Debbie’s, still wrapped up in Mickey. That boy was sweet. That was the thing. He wasn’t harmless, or weak, or soft, but he just tasted good. From his gaze, to his skin, to his soft hair, to that delicious dick of his, he was sweet. I couldn’t get enough of him. We fucked a couple more times, then Roger had to leave, and Mickey was being nice – he left with Roger.
Debbie and I spoke after that. Roger was an asshole, but a 9 inch dick that’s hard on command is not something you play with. You grip it firmly. Roger’s endowment (and his financial contributions) bought him attention every now and again. I think Debbie just liked him because he had some nerve.
I got Mickey’s number, and agreed to call him. I still feel his dick now. Or I guess I should say my pussy is sore.
I went to the Y on 64th street with Debbie to work out. There were a couple of pickup games, and I’ve always loved the honest sweat of basketball. I could always make sense of the lines and the angles, and after thirty minutes I wasn’t thinking about bills, or credit, or relationships, or anything really. I just played good defense, made sure I was getting a sweat, and looked around me. The beauty of co-ed is that you get these young college boys. Tall, fit, and firm.
I spent most of the game marking this tall African boy, Kevin. He was dark, tall, hard as a brick to touch, and quick too. I had to box him hard, otherwise he had a decent hook shot and was dangerous when free. I know how to use my ass, and by the time I tapped his nuts a few times, we were playing a different game. He looked at me like he was surprised I knew how to hoop. I played at Texas, four years in varsity, and I just didn’t graduate for my own reasons. I could ball, I knew that.
After the game I went over with Debbie to chat near the water fountain. Kevin came by with a female friend of his. Heather was her name. He didn’t believe I was a nun, and I didn’t press. He said he was an engineer with some phone company. So he was smart. Paid his own bills. Said he had a kid but his son didn’t live in Chicago, and he was “broadly single”. So he fucked whoever he wanted, like most people. Well. I got his number. His little friend looked me up and down. I was in grey sweatpants and a grey top. Short hair, no makeup. I guess she didn’t understand why Kevin checked for me.
I knew something simple about men. Men want to be sure you will leave. They love to chase, love to catch, but really dread being stuck with you. They need to know you will leave. If they are sure of that, you will never have a problem with them. I never wanted to stay. I was always ready to leave, and that didn’t change. Once that became clear, most men were happy with me. A lot of women say they will leave, but they don’t mean it. I figure whatever most men give me I can easily get elsewhere, and I don’t want to be possessed. Not by anyone. My style had worked for me so far.
I stayed once. Three years ago. I ended up with Jasmine. My lovely daughter. She was why I was in Chicago, and was a real reminder of the true costs of a careless life. I had wanted her, she was welcome, and I loved her. She just wasn’t free, and her Father John was not a big part of my life, but every now and again he would show up.
After I had her I was taken care of by the Sisters of Mercy, a Catholic religious order. It was a long year, and by the end of it I figured out that nuns had free rein in the Midwest, and that I could figure out how to wear their gear. Uniforms were cheaper, more efficient, and let you think about other stuff anyway.
I hadn’t been sucked that morning, so when we got to Debbie’s I had a hot hot shower and had her massage my breasts. Basically breaking up the knots of milk, and helping me squeeze them out to make them more bearable. I loved having milk. It was a real turn-on being so alive in my breasts, and it turned out some men and women really loved to drink from me. I loved it. My kid didn’t even drink milk anymore, but my partners often did. They also kept my boobs firm, which mattered to me. Debbie didn’t really like to drink the milk, but some men…..wow…..seemed like childhood never ended. She did like the stimulation. I think she just liked playing with my body. I always got wet when I expressed, but no matter. We had a deadline, and I was seeing Kevin later. I got dressed. The habit this time, and then we got into Debbie’s car.
Debbie dropped me off at my Mum’s place, and I got to see Jasmine. She was growing. I missed her. We played for a bit, and I cried. I missed her. The thing was I wasn’t really maternal. I loved her, but I felt better with her being in a safe place. The books, the school, the reading, I really didn’t care for it. I never did. I still don’t.
My Mum made fun of me for my nun’s outfit. As she always does. We talked money, and I gave her the twenty thousand I had scrambled together.
Debbie came by to pick me up to Kevin’s place.
It was a North Shore high rise. Lots of windows, with a view of the lake. I know someone got fucked against those windows every now and again. Unless the windows broke. So maybe they didn’t actually touch the glass. But that view.
He looked good dressed up, and He seemed surprised to see me in my habit. We chatted about basketball, he was a Baptist, and we talked about something else. Anything else. I asked about the young girl. She was a friend, he said, and yes she was jealous, and yes he was fucking her.
He offered my weed. I passed. I don’t need excuses to get up. I don’t need excuses to be happy or seek pleasure. He took a hit from the pipe, and leaned back. He passed out. I did too. It had been a long day.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/3zd4xi/httpwwwamazoncomglorioushustlepartglorialooksebook
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