Today, I had something happen that took me back.
There are these two women I see weekly, one blonde, one brunette. They’re twenty years my junior, but they’ve each got a certain… je ne sais quoi. The high point of March was when, together, they beckoned me over: “What color are each of our eyes?” they asked me. I had to stare in each of their beautiful eyes for a moment, and diagnose them. (Both of their eyes are green. One’s have orange flecks.) I don’t know why they were discussing this question, nor do I know how or why they asked me to resolve it for them.
Each is tiny. Each wears leggings. Not for me, I suspect, but I like them, and am grateful for them. Their legs are slender. Their breasts are pert, round. Their faces are pretty. The blonde has the most insanely sexy gravelly voice. The brunette, the cutest smile.
I have crushes on each of them, on both of them. I find it hard not to imagine them on my cock (both of them, together) when I’m with them.
Today, there came a break in our time together. The brunette turned to a guy – call him “Eric.” “Coffee?” she said to him. Every week, at about this time, several of us go to the same place to get coffee. She had to know I was on my way there. As were several other people. But she was asking him.
I was so jealous.
He’s a good-looking guy, ten years my junior. He’s not as smart as I am, not as confident. I don’t, honestly, see what anyone would see in him over me (other than his ten years juniority). No question, she was flirting with him. And worse, worse than that she was flirting with him, was that I was invisible to her. She was oblivious to me as a potential flirting partner.
Here’s the funny thing: there’s nothing about her other than the visual that appeals. She’s not particularly interesting to me, not particularly intelligent. I suspect that, if we were to spend more than five minutes together, I’d want to shoot myself.
But her interest in Eric? FUCK.