Some say I am a bad man or mad man with no feelings. To argue the point would be silly since I can see myself as both. I love to fuck women, fat or skinny doesn’t matter I just want wet pussy. I can fuck them at work or on a balcony in Spain but they all know I don’t do love. I’m good looking better than the average which makes my position even more lucrative. I meet them at dinner while they are smiling at their husband. I see them at the bank while they are making transactions. They shy away from my smile but within minutes I am pushing hot cum in their sweet pussy. I have been living like this for a while, no love just fucking. Then one day I got fired from my job and everything changed.
Unemployed I decided to take up a job as an Uber driver. The first couple of weeks were okay, but I really hated having drunk fuckers in my car. Then one day I pulled up to the curb waiting on my next rider named Curt. I sat there for a few minutes thinking about pulling away when my door open and woman was thrown in my car. I immediately got out and saw a man running down the street. I figured it was Curt getting rid of his evidence since the woman he put in the car was slumped in the back seat. I thought it would presumably be an ethical idea to transport her to the hospital since her panties were down by her ankle. She wore a sparkly silver dress but had lipstick smeared all over her face. She looked beautiful yet worn out from whatever trauma she had been through. My thoughts raced as I contemplated taking her to the ER. I told her where we were going as I pulled off hoping she would awaken. Five minutes into the drive I heard soft cries interrupt my music. I turned it down then she said, “Please no hospital take me home”. For the first time in my life, I felt scared and wanted to take her to the ER. She insisted on not going by grabbing my shoulder furnishing me her cell with a map of where she lived.
Pulling up to her house, I got out the car with some hesitation. I collected her up in my arms as her keys dangled from her chubby fingers. She whispered faintly, “I live in apartment C”. Following her directions, I opened her door then took her over to the couch laying her among plush grey cushions. Her apartment was filled with paintings which made me believe she is her own Van Gogh. Looking around her apartment, I became absorbed in her beautiful world then noticed she had left the couch. She stood at the kitchen sink splashing water on her face and then looked at me curiously. I put my hands in my pocket then walked over to her slowly. I asked if she is okay and all she returned was a nod while she wiped her face with a towel. I then told her I would leave and that’s when she went to the door asking for me to stay.
Standing back from the door I looked at her wanting eyes then returned to the living room. She followed behind me and sat next to me on the couch. By then I had noticed she had put on a long t-shirt which exposed her thick thighs. We sat in silence on the couch when she gently laid into my chest. Pushing her away never came to my mind like I would do with any other woman. Instead, I found myself wanting to keep her safe within my arms. As I became comfortable so did she and we both feel asleep on her plush couch. Waking up hours later we were still in this beautiful hug as I kissed her forehead placing long hairs behind her ear. She held on tighter as her breast rested against my chest like soft pillows. Amazingly the sun peaked through the window and I began to realize I am not a mad man after all.