Sunday, October 19, 2008


I met Superman at work. We ended up with cubicles beside each other, though thankfully we worked in different departments and the shared office space was only to be temporary (just like our relationship). We flirted with each other like mad and used to sneak out of the office for coffee or meet up for drinks after work. People were suspicious, especially his coworkers (he worked in IT and all of the IT nerds were in awe that a fellow IT nerd had scored!). Once our new spaces were determined and we didn't have to sit next to each other, we began dating. It was new and exciting and we were really anticipating getting it on, as we'd been tempting each other for months. Finally, we went out, got loaded and ended up in bed. I noticed that he had a Superman tattoo on his right shoulder and, I must admit, I was hoping for the best. What ended up occurring was the dirtiest, slimiest kink-fest ever. I've only ever had my body parts referred to with swear words before by men who I've been in close relationships with... I'm assuming that he'd learned most of his moves from porn. I nearly got whiplash from his not too subtle attempts to direct my head towards his kryptonite. He was and remains the only man who has ever spat on me during sex........ This was Superman sex.
We broke up shortly thereafter.

1 comment:

The Uneasy Writer said...

We've all been there!
The chemistry is right, his choice of outfit is right, his hair is right, the restaurant is right. Then, he calls you a slut just before climax and you think; 'that's not right'.