My Date With an Eye Licker

I should have known I was in heat when I started to linger as I licked straws and spoons. I should have known I was in heat when I started rubbing up against doorknobs. I should have known I was in heat when the 5’1 Mexican busboy at the French restaurant that I worked for started to look really, really good to me.

I found myself leaning my ass out against the food line as I picked up the food trays. I was twenty-eight years old and waitressing in the Valley. Fairly new to Los Angeles and not having a car led to slim pickens on my end for a shag, and one very lucky boy.

Fairly confident that I could pick him up regardless of my black slacks, stained white button down shirt and loafers; I slipped him my address and off we were to a shabby pool hall where we drank stale beer in plastic cups.

The language barrier was just an amusing addition to the fact that we had nothing in common besides sexual attraction.
So I rubbed up against him while leaning over the table as I pretended that I couldn’t shoot, and he just watched over the rim of his cup looking almost paralyzed.

We wound up back at his place and I should have known that there was something wrong during our first kiss. He tried to kiss on top of me. It’s hard to explain. Just imagine grabbing a head of cabbage and trying to swallow it whole.

“WhoaâÂ?¦whoaâÂ?¦what are you doing? I asked a bit bewildered. He either didn’t understand that question or ignored it altogether. I’ll never know.

He then leaned in again and I tried to guide his mouth a bit. Now on top of me he circled my hairâÂ?¦circlesâÂ?¦I now had to ask, “UmmâÂ?¦just how old are you?”

He giggled a little. This was getting worse by the second and we hadn’t even made it to first (at least I hadn’t).

And I’m thinking, “Great, now I have to worry about the police breaking down the door. But then again at least I’ll get handcuffed and maybe the policeman will be hot and I’ll get something out of this before getting thrown in jail.” All of these thoughts running through my head, and then the unspeakable happened.

He.

Licked.

My.

Eyeball.

(I’ll give you all a minute)

YeahâÂ?¦I couldn’t even hide my disgust. I think I said something like, “Ew! Oh my God, get the fuck off of me man. Gross!!!”
I covered my goopy eye with my hand and stumbled in the darkness for my bag.

The next day I looked up eye fetish and sure enough there it was OCULOLINCTUS: the need for licking an eyeball for sexual arousal.

And you thought condoms were enough boys and girls.

I was serenaded by a parade of laughter and “Hey Mommy’s and Hola Senoritas” by his friends in valet.
Whatever story he had told had gotten out and it was time to find another job.

So I grabbed the paper and a cup of coffee and looked through the classifieds while wearing a patch.

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