Status: Tyler, baby ♥_♥
The Red Lipstick Effect
Prologue
Tyler loved Mary from the start. Of course that's because she was wearing red lipstick.
It's been that way ever since he was old enough to date; or, at least, since he was old enough to know what a hard-on was. His computer was filled with porn titled along the lines of “bitch in red lipstick gets pounded” and it just so happens every girl he has ever dated, when he first was to meet them, they were wearing rouge on their lips.
The world works in mysterious ways, Tyler always figured. Why not let their be occasional soul mates? And why is it that not always but on the rare occurrence, toast falls butter side up just when someone needed a high point in their day?
Because up until he met this particular MaryJoe Rossa, love was a few planets away. Life was working out as if maybe Tyler would only ever love music and drugs. Girls were nice, of course, but they didn't work like he wanted them to. Pussy was pussy either way but love wasn't involved. Sometimes he wished it was.
And wishes sometimes come true. He met her at a party he attended where sex was a goal of the night. She was beautiful and he could tell from where he stood at the door to where she was, at the fridge. She wasn't wearing pants, only these little blue polka-dot panties and this wife beater and a striped hat. She was sipping out of a carton of milk and eyed him down, like she was a woman PMSing and craving dark chocolate. He smiled at her, tipped his snap back like any gentleman would, and she put the carton down, smiling right back with a white mustache over these big, red lips.
Her two front teeth had a gap he always took to. Her hair was actual-blood red with brown roots and her eyes were almond and sweet.
She looked how he liked and she fucked how he liked.
When he grabbed her neck tight she would yelled for more and bite his lip rough until she tasted blood. Her legs were short and barely lifted around his neck. That's how he liked it, so when she stood up and leaned against the wall for him she only was tall as his shoulders.
She was honestly everything he wanted with a ribbon of rainbows and kisses, like damned-old Jesus handed her to Tyler himself.
But something somehow went wrong even though that perfect night was filled with a promise of a passionate future. And this is where my job ends; Tyler wants to tell you the rest of the story himself.
It's been that way ever since he was old enough to date; or, at least, since he was old enough to know what a hard-on was. His computer was filled with porn titled along the lines of “bitch in red lipstick gets pounded” and it just so happens every girl he has ever dated, when he first was to meet them, they were wearing rouge on their lips.
The world works in mysterious ways, Tyler always figured. Why not let their be occasional soul mates? And why is it that not always but on the rare occurrence, toast falls butter side up just when someone needed a high point in their day?
Because up until he met this particular MaryJoe Rossa, love was a few planets away. Life was working out as if maybe Tyler would only ever love music and drugs. Girls were nice, of course, but they didn't work like he wanted them to. Pussy was pussy either way but love wasn't involved. Sometimes he wished it was.
And wishes sometimes come true. He met her at a party he attended where sex was a goal of the night. She was beautiful and he could tell from where he stood at the door to where she was, at the fridge. She wasn't wearing pants, only these little blue polka-dot panties and this wife beater and a striped hat. She was sipping out of a carton of milk and eyed him down, like she was a woman PMSing and craving dark chocolate. He smiled at her, tipped his snap back like any gentleman would, and she put the carton down, smiling right back with a white mustache over these big, red lips.
Her two front teeth had a gap he always took to. Her hair was actual-blood red with brown roots and her eyes were almond and sweet.
She looked how he liked and she fucked how he liked.
When he grabbed her neck tight she would yelled for more and bite his lip rough until she tasted blood. Her legs were short and barely lifted around his neck. That's how he liked it, so when she stood up and leaned against the wall for him she only was tall as his shoulders.
She was honestly everything he wanted with a ribbon of rainbows and kisses, like damned-old Jesus handed her to Tyler himself.
But something somehow went wrong even though that perfect night was filled with a promise of a passionate future. And this is where my job ends; Tyler wants to tell you the rest of the story himself.