Go to hell for oral sex

big ben

We're with Laura's father: Table prayer is the beginning of the end…

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This story involves prayer and prison. We eat in the middle.

But before the story begins, first the two most important pieces of information, we want to do this in a structured way here so that each comment writer sums up my column in a few sentences without getting into a mess, we don't want Like this, oh no.

so. First. The spiral is back. At some point, Laura got tired of all the math and extraction. Or maybe she doesn't like the idea of ​​a “sweet baby” anymore. Or maybe the condom in the middle is stupid. Don't know what the main reason is. Anyway, everything is back to normal.

Almost everything.

Because we are exclusive now. So monogamous. (Trust me, I think this is crazy too.)

Now the story of prayer prison

We are visiting Laura's father. Her father was of Italian descent and lived deep in the Thurgau region. He cooked very good food and Lara came home every Sunday. So don't go home. She didn't grow up there. Her mother also lives elsewhere. But apparently she's not half as good at cooking as her father, which is why Laura rarely goes to her.

I thought Laura just liked her dad better. I pictured him as a relaxed, fun guy, always stirring a pot of pasta, drinking wine, probably with a mustache, certainly with a deep voice and a loud laugh, that's how I imagined him.

Far from it.

Last Sunday we drove to Thurgau. Laura said that means I drive. She usually talks a lot. On that car ride, she talked a lot. When we arrived she said, “My dad can be a little scary, but he actually means well.” You could have told me ahead of time, but that's okay.

When we entered, my father looked at me sternly. He put the red wine I brought on a shelf that already contained other bottles. He said he wanted to open a bottle. But I still have to drive. Anyway, Lala didn't drink much.

I looked at Lala. Lara looked away. Not much? Lala doesn’t drink much? ? ? I don't know how many women drink as much as she does, but oh well. It's okay to lie. I also know a lot of men who don't tell their parents that they smoke all the time. Even though they have children of their own.

thing.

I have to say, the food here is heavenly. Surrounding environment? A disaster. The first thing that happens is the table prayer. A short one. But hello table prayer? I learned on the drive home that my father had been raised a strict Catholic. You could have told me ahead of time.

After praying I was stuck. I had to go through my entire resume. Give a reason for each of these gaps. I had to explain why I wasn't married yet and what my intentions were with Laura. At least he didn't ask me how religious I was. He probably noticed that I didn't even say “Amen” at the end of his prayer.

Oral sex to cheer you up

Laura may feel regretful. Or a guilty conscience. On the drive back she didn't say anything, just repeated a few times, I did a great job, her ex would never do that well, her dad would love me completely and I would definitely impress him made an impression, or at least left a good impression.

She caressed my knees as if to soften me. I fell silent. I don't even know what to say. So I kept silent. What else should I say?

At some point, she leaned over and unzipped my pants. The first time I got it. oral sex. Just like in the car. While driving.

Everyone is completely relaxed now: I'm always (almost) in control of everything. That's an interstate highway. Because there was zero traffic on a Sunday night. And I drove very slowly.

But yeah, I doubt her dad would approve of it. Otherwise the police will catch us. Maybe I won't go straight to jail. But I'm definitely going to hell now…

So long,

Book

Image: Watson

James Blunt can continue to be called James Blunt without having to change his name to Blondie McBrent Face. A new version of his hit album Back to Bedlam reached number seven in the UK charts instead of number one, which would have had consequences.