You won’t believe your good fortune when you get her into your apartment. She’ll be so beautiful, so graceful. She’ll seem to float a foot over the ground, her eyes twinkling at the sight of your vintage Zep poster.
“Zep rules!” she’ll slur into your ear, licking inside of it as she speaks.
“I know!” you’ll mumble into her open mouth, your breath blowing boozy gales down her throat. She’ll smile back, her jaws gaping.
“Let’s fuck,” she’ll manage to moan and mumble into your neck.
You’ll put your fist up in the air and lead her, or drag her depending on your perspective, to your bedroom. Once there you’ll strip off her panties, leaving the rest of her clothes on, and shove your semi-hard dick into her dry vagina.
Sex will be going about as well as it usually does for you (unpleasantly) when she’ll start screaming out of the blue. At first you’ll assume it’s some sort of night terror scenario and that she’s living through some previous traumatic quasi rape experience. But when you actually look at her face you’ll see that she’s looking up at you, her mouth twisted in what could potentially be called pleasure.
As you ineptly gyrate it’ll be readily clear that this is just how she expresses pleasure. She’ll purse her lips at you, claw at your chest with one hand and once hold up her hand to receive a high five, all the while making that horrible keening sound she must’ve learned from some kind of weird Soviet porn.
The two of you will reach a compromise when, after seven minutes of unsatisfying and increasingly awkward sex, you hold a pillow over her head and keep thrusting away.
Congratulations on Muffling the Screams!
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