A Shell of A Man

So, back to the bedroom: my pants around my ankles, my right hand strangling my member, my left hand holding out a folded piece of toilet paper, getting ready to catch the stream of desire. 'mpf! Oh Babs! Oh Babs!' I moaned as I jerked off.

I couldn't distinguish whether or not she actually liked me or whether or not she was merely taunting me. After all, why would she say hello like that? As I ejaculated into the toilet paper I was reminded of the block headed pillar of testosterone that was her date and the fact that he had chuckled at me. It occurred to me that perhaps she was just teasing me, getting my hopes up. Yep, they were probably both having a good laugh about it amongst themselves.

Needless to say, as the weeks went on as did the casual greetings. Sometimes she'd be with one of her lovers, other times she'd be with her girlfriends and other times she'd be all alone.

It was always the same. She'd say "Hey kid" or "Hi sweetie" or "Hey honeybunch" I'd stutter, mumble and fumble over my words. Before I could ever actually say anything it would be too late.

It was a power she had over me. I couldn't figure out why it was that whenever I was around her, I turned into a stuttering, blushing little sissy.

Furthermore, it didn't help matters when she called me names such as 'honeybunch' and 'sweetie'. I couldn't figure out why she was calling me these names. Did she think I was gay? Was she teasing me? I mean, I knew she knew I didn't get out that much. After all, she lived just across the hall from me.

I was always a lonely guy. I always went to the movies alone, always had dinner for one and sex was more than often a solo activity. Of course I wanted to get out there and have a meaningful experience with an attractive woman, and of course I thought about asking her out. But I was a wimp. She was too attractive for me, too outgoing, too experienced, too intimidating. She would never go out with someone like me. It would be humiliating to be shot down and rejected by her.