Tuesday, August 09, 2016

Your Turn

Who is Tulip? From New York Magazine

6:00 p.m. I have a date from the app Raya. We decide to meet at a wine bar in the West Village. I recognize her when she comes in: She is a famous person’s daughter. I only know this because I worked on her father’s house. Interesting. We kiss hello, and I can smell cigarettes on her. Who smokes in 100-degree weather? Only a sexy AF train-wreck. We order a bottle of white.

Midnight Trainwreck just left. She was a hot, drunken mess who chain-smoked, but I — of course — liked her. We made out on the street, then I took her home and she blew me. She blew me on my grandmother’s antique rug. I blew my load in her mouth and she swallowed. She swallowed my load, took a swig of vodka, and left. I assume I’ll never see her again, but, hey, it was a phenomenal blow job. She did that twirl thing with her tongue and used just the right amount of teeth. (Don’t try this at home!) There may or may not have been a finger in the anus. I’m not being coy; I truly don’t know what kind of tricks she had in her bag. Whatever it was, more please. PUH-LEEZE.

1:00 a.m. Trainwreck texts me! “Hey sexy. Mimosas in the morning?”

1:01 a.m. Happyhappyhappyhapppyhappyhappy me.

DAY THREE

11:00 a.m. Cafe Cluny with the Trainwreck, who I’m now going to call Tulip. Because, yes, she has the type of first name that generally only overly confident, famously artsy, highly repugnant people can get away with. But she is not highly repugnant. She is a real person with a real story. I won’t reveal too much, but she’s in her late 30s, twice married and divorced, and searching for “stability and soulfulness.” I've got both those things and then some!

2:30 p.m. I am giving it to Tulip from behind!!! She is bent over my couch and I’m railing her, as the kids say. She has a great ass. There is a dark beauty mark on it that I find very erotic. The beauty mark is shaped like a state, but I can’t pinpoint which one. I am not sure I’m going to come, but she's screaming for dear life. I remember from Jayne’s friendly sex tips that I should reach around and rub her clit while fucking her from behind, so I do that. She moves my hands from her pussy to her tits, so that I am holding her (fake?) tits while fucking her from behind. She comes and asks for a break. I take my dick out and take the condom off, and she blows me until I come too.

6:oo p.m. Tulip is still here. I am allowing her to smoke in my apartment. Is this love?

10:00 p.m. Tulip never leaves. We take separate showers and crawl into my bed, both naked. We have nice, tender sex, and come together after about six minutes. Turns out her tits are fake (I ask). No matter. I feel happy and also terrified. Tulip is a little bit terrifying. She talks a lot about her recent ex-husband. The last thing she says before we fall asleep is, “Ya gotta know when to walk away, right?” This leaves a pit in my stomach for some reason.

DAY FOUR

7:00 a.m. Tulip has to go home and tend to her dogs. I haven’t heard about any dogs until now. I brush my teeth and walk her to the door. I offer to walk her home and/or get her a coffee for the road. She declines and kisses me on the cheek.

7:00 p.m. Tulip hasn’t returned my text. I wrote her around lunchtime just to check in. Here we go again.

17 comments:

sandybrook said...

I think Entard made this story up and sent it to New Yorker--the obsession with chain smoking gives it away

Kno Won Uno said...

It does sound a bit like a Penthouse Letter

Tricia13 said...

Wow- what a real literary treat. A real gem of an "auteur"
:(

glue said...

Enty's interns are definitely on something and think the rest of the world is on their wavelength and/or think they are cute and funny. Morons.
/rolling eyes/

Me said...

@Sandy isomeone else probably made this, but enty tries to make it look he is the one who did it. Because he cannot get a girlfriend....or boyfriend...or any thing else that breaths.

MontanaMarriott said...

A famous person's daughter could be anyone from politician's, actor, singer, sports person, too numerous to know.

Frufra said...

My wild guess is Fuschia Sumner, Sting's daughter from his first marriage. I know nothing about her - she could be a nun for all I know. Maybe a naughty nun ;-)?

david said...

Was the "Trainwreck" phrase a clue?

Smoking turns me off; can't stand being with some one who smells like an ashtray.
(No sex with you!)
;=)

Zilla1 said...

WTF is "Your Turn" about this gross item?

AshBey said...

More than 4 lines in a paragraph on CDAN: tl,dr ... The bad grammar, it just hurts too much.

@Zilla - LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AshBey said...

Yall some stalwart CDAN soldiers for reading this. Couldn't do it.

NoseyNeighbor said...

My thoughts too. Not what I expected to see.

Guesser said...

Don't do this again.

Whatever said...

No offence Enty but that was two minutes of my life I'll never get back. Pretty banal stuff.

Guesser said...

Some of the sentence structure is like one of the Enty's. Guess he's trying his hand at erotic fiction. Keep your day job.

beckymae said...

Maybe it's one of those stories that one person starts and the next one carries it on? Like the Duran Duran fan fic you wrote with your bestie in high school......no? No one else? ;)

Shar said...

I thought it was hot! Thanks Enty

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