Sloppy Seconds

Sloppy Seconds
Have you ever misheard the lyrics to a song? Maybe even sung it wrong, only to be corrected by someone.
I know that happened to me with the song Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix. For years I thought he said, "Scuse me while I kiss this guy." rather than "Scuse me while I kiss the sky."
The homoerotic imagery swayed my thinking for years. I'd never wanted to kiss a guy as a result, but it made me think about it enough to reject it. It also led me to wonder about sucking cock. I wasn't keen on the idea but oddly it seemed less objectionable than kissing a guy.
So I was dating this new girl, Sloane. Yep, same name as the girl from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. She was named after the character.
We were driving down the road in my convertible Z with the top down and the music cranked up loud.
A real oldie came on the radio - 'Hang on Sloopy'. She was singing along at the top of her lungs but whenever the singer said the word 'sloopy' she sang 'sloppy'.
I looked at her sideways chuckling a little. I made fun of her playfully, "What'd you just say?"
She responded playfully too, but also a little defensively, "They're not my lyrics. I didn't write them. And if a guy likes that kind of thing then I think it's sexy."
Still confused, I asked, "Just what do you think the song's about?"
She started to give me a whole rundown, "So this guy likes a sloppy girl but she lives in a bad part of town."
I raised one eyebrow questioningly, "It says so right in the song, 'Sloppy lives in a very bad part of town.' "
I objected, "But it doesn't say 'sloppy', it says, 'sloopy'."
She slapped my arm, "Jaaack, there's no word 'sloopy' in the English language. And as an English Teacher I just can't mispronounce words so I sing it the right way."
Now I was amused, "Ok, tell me more."
She blushed, "Sure, but you asked. It's not like I wanted to go there."
Then she continued explaining to me the meaning of the song, "So she's poor and all the guys try to "put her down", like on a bed.
But the guy doesn't care what the other 'daddies' do. That's what they called sex partners in the sixties. He even says, "Give it to them." So he wants her to have sex with other guys."
I had to stop her before she dug her hole too deep, "Um, I don't think it's about that."
"No it is!" By now she had the lyrics pulled up on her phone, "Just listen to this next line: 'Sloppy let your hair down, let your hair down on me.' That's about sex. She's on top and her hair hangs down on him.
Then he tells them, 'Come on Sloppy.' So he wants the guys to do their business on her. He's literally telling them to come Demetevler Escort on her. Then he says it feels good and he wants her to shake it."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. First, that she had it so wrong. Then that she had this convoluted pornographic explanation. She looked at me with a very self-satisfied smug look.
I tried to challenge her without rubbing it in her face, "And what does it mean when he says, 'Hang on sloopy'?"
She pointed to the lyric on her phone, "Right here. It says, 'Shake it, shake it.' And let it all hang down.'
It's clearly talking about the sloppy aftermath of sex and since he loves her he's willing to let the sloppy seconds from other guys hang down on him. In fact, it even proves how much he loves her."
I stopped thinking about the song and started thinking about the mind of a woman who interpreted it like that. Really, a song is just a verbal Rorschach test.
And here was this woman who's thoughts leaned toward dripping cum. I didn't know if I found that super sexy or kinda weird.
Did she want to do that? Would I? She had said if a guy wanted that it was sexy. "If a guy wanted that." So she's not saying she wants it. But she also said it was sexy.
I wanted to just come out and ask her. But that seemed too direct. Just then a play on words occurred to me: "Sloppy Sloane." I blurted it out impulsively, "Are you a sloppy Sloan?" Immediately I worried I'd made a mistake.
Sitting there side by side in the car she squeezed my hand in reply. Then some long minutes went by and she answered out loud, "If you want me to be."
I squeezed back, acknowleging the next, freer, level we'd reached in our relationship where we could talk openly about sex and even cum.
At night I played that conversation over in my head repeatedly trying to dissect and tease out every nuance of meaning. In retrospect, that squeeze, when I squeezed her hand, that was the turning point she interpreted as a green light.
We dated for a few more months and had great times in and out of bed.
One day she called me, "Would you like to hang out with a group of my friends? My ex boyfriend will be there. But I don't have feelings for him any more."
The gathering was dull and when it broke up this guy Wes Farrell suggested we go bar hopping. Her ex, Bert, tagged along.
Both Wes and Bert flirted with Sloane at that first bar. There was no shaking them.
When it got boring there, Sloane yelled in my ear to be heard above the music, "We could go HANG out at a bar in the BAD PART OF TOWN and get SLOPPY drunk. Then we can COME back to my Otele gelen escort place and you can PUT ME DOWN on the bed. If that's what you want?"
Well of course I was always ready to bed her. I agreed with great gusto and a shit eating grin. And if she wanted to get drunk first, I was game.
I packed up my stuff and hers, but Wes and Bert still followed.
At the new bar we started doing shots and it quickly had the effect she wanted - we were all drunk.
I took Sloane aside, "It's time. I'm ready. You ready to go get cummed in?"
I'd never seen her so randy and ready, "You betcha, Daddy." Leaving the bar, her hips were swaying, she was swinging her purse merrily, and singing, "Come on Sloppy, come on, come on, Come on Sloppy, come on, come on, Well, come on Sloppy, come on, come on, Well, come on Sloppy, come on, come on. Well it feels so good, come on, come on. You know it feels so good, come on, come on."
We hailed a cab but as we were getting in so did Wes and Bert. I told the cabbie we had three stops then I half passed out in the back seat.
I vaguely remember the two guys helping me inside and to bed.
I didn't want to go to sleep without fucking Sloane first and I made an incoherent attempt to ask, "Sloane, come 'ere. I need you."
She bent over my face, her hair cascading down beautifully, I mumbled "Oh, I'm so in love with you. And your hair is so sexy. Let your hair down, let it all run down."
Sloane draped her long blonde hair over my face, then ran the silky strands across my body. When the ends tangled around my cock I wondered when I had gotten undressed.
Hands dragged and positioned me in the center of the bed, turning me opposite the headboard.
Sloane wasted no time climbing aboard in a sixty-nine, sucking me to life. My sexual stimulation really helped revive me from my drunken stupor too.
Her tremendously hairy pussy never fails to excite me, and there it was perched just above my face while her delectable mouth pleasured my hard cock. The odor of aroused twat was ten times as intoxicating as the liquor had been.
I took a single swipe at her cunny when Wes gently pushed my head back to the mattress, "Hang on, bud. Plenty of time for that after I get mine."
He straddled my head, bringing a bouncing cock to bear, aiming it right at her gash. From my vantage point I could easily see him rub the naked cockhead up and down in her slit before gliding inside. It was like my own personal porno. I loved it.
Heavy cum-filled balls swung happily back and forth in a frenzy of fucking and slapping. It didn't seem to take Balgat Escort Wes long to mash his pubes against hers, jerking and spasming as he filled her up.
He pulled away quickly splattering cummy residue on her now moist and matted fur. It looked pretty sexy especially with a tiny string that hung down over me.
As fast as he departed, Bert replaced him. His thicker smoother cock entered easily for him to have sloppy seconds. Penetrating her drenched crevice he squeezed out a glob of white spoo, which fell on my cheek.
He pistoned energetically, building up a creamy frothy sheen of whipped cum on his cockshaft. Bert sheathed and drew his sword repeatedly speckling my face every time it went home.
He fucked Sloane for like ten minutes straight, before digging his fingers into her hips, pulling her back tightly against his pelvis.
Just like with Wes, I saw his balls contract and his cock pump as he filled my Sloppy Sloane with a second load.
He stayed inside her, using his hand to milk the last of his spunk into her used pussy. When his divk was soft enough, it just fell out, glancing wetly off my lips as he dismounted.
Her hole was left gaping. Looking inside I could see the froth and the dollops of thick cum waiting inside. One tiny trickle slipped down and fell into my mouth, which I was holding open, hopfully.
Sloane stopped sucking just long enough to turn back, announcing, "I've got sloppy seconds for you to eat." To no avail, I tried to tell her that that was not how the phrase was meant to be used. She merely sat back pressing her messy nasty cum-filled cunt to my lips.
It was squishy and sopping and delicious. I pulled her down encouraging her to let more of her weight fall upon me. I stuck my tongue in as far as I could, licking her pussy walls trying to get as much slick slime as I could reach.
I sucked, I licked, I nibbled and bit her nasty raw cunt lips. I was rewarded with more and more liquid to swallow.
When her hole drooled the last of their cum, she brought me off with her lips and we came together.
The guys were gone, leaving Sloane and I to snuggle in each other's arms. Putting all the events together in my mind I had a realization and asked, "Was letting your sloppiness hang all over me everything you remembered?"
"Oh yes! As good as it ever was. I'm so lucky to find a guy like you." Sloane patted my chest falling asleep, her head resting there.
Author's note:
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