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SAMANTHA'S CHRONICLES

Two-minute man

Triumphant smile wiped off with anticlimax

In Summary

• Nick looks embarrassed. No man wants to be known as the two-minute brother

Disappointed girlfriend
Disappointed girlfriend
Image: COURTESY

“I’ll do it,” I say to Nick. “I’ll drink every last drop.” I have weighed the options in my mind and decided I’ll ride with this golden shower bull crap. He smiles.

I approach him and drop to my knees. I take him into my mouth and I feel him growing hard. The thought of me succumbing is enough to arouse him for now. Unless he drinks a litre of water, he’s not going to need to pee anytime soon. By then, I’ll have what I want.

I smile inwardly as I remember the Santa beard between my legs. How will he fare without the prop? I don’t get to find out. After blowing his trumpet for a while, he groans, indicating this is not going to last for very long. I stop and look up at him.

“Do I finish?” I ask.

“No,” he responds. “I want to make love to you.”

He grabs me, lies on his back and pulls me towards his groin. I bestride him and start to ride him. Damn. It feels so good! I start getting into it, increasing my rhythm, feeling proud of myself for tricking him into staying. Golden shower, my ass. Momma's gonna ride you all the way to Timbuktu; save your bed wetting for later, child. And then it happens.

His shudder and groan are unmistakable. No, no, no, wait, not yet. I plead to the orgasm gods to hold off a little longer. They don’t hear me. This can’t be over so soon, it’s only been two minutes, max!

For Pete’s sake, he can’t come just when my body is building up to hit Batian (highest peak of Mt Kenya). He does and just like that, it’s over. I try to ride the last kicks of this dying horse but all the air has gone out of his balloon.

Dammit. I feel like all those climbers who make it so close to the summit that they can almost taste it but have to turn back for whatever reason. Bad weather. An injury. No oxygen.

I know a guy as fit as a fiddle who couldn’t make it to the top because he could not acclimatise. He was gutted. He saw the summit from a helicopter as he was airlifted off Kilimanjaro. Or the other one who famously said he was climbing Everest “because it’s there” and died up there. His body wasn’t found for 75 years.

Nick looks embarrassed. No man wants to be known as the two-minute brother. “I love this…” he mumbles. “I love you too much.”

Wait, what? It sounded like he said he came too fast because he loves me? Or loves my vajayjay too much? His words were muffled so I can’t be too sure. This is the point you reassure the man but I’m not feeling very generous after letting him pee on me. The least he could have done was held off for a little longer.

“You owe me an orgasm,” I say.

He doesn’t say anything. For a man with so much sexual experience, you’d think he would use other means to get me to the Promised Land. He doesn’t and instead rolls over, away from me. He starts snoring a minute later. What the hell, man?

I lie there for a long time, going over the evening events. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow morning. He can redeem himself with morning glory. I get to the bathroom and wash off the urine from my skin. He didn’t drink any water, so I may skip this humiliating step in the morning. We shall see.