Helen

[Myron Cumberland]

I met Helen in a coffee shop.  When I walked in, she was arguing with a group of guys at the table next to her.  They were wearing MAGA hats, and she was giving them holy hell for their fashion choice.  I was only half listening as I waited for my turn in line until one of the guys insulted her.  Her comeback was so quick and spot-on that I laughed out loud.  I like clever women.  She looked up at me and smiled.  It was my turn at the counter, so I shyly gave my order and fumbled with my phone.  When I got my coffee, I turned around to see her standing five feet away and smiling at me.  She was wearing black jeans, low heels, and a shirt that read "The Future is Female".  Oh Christ, I thought, a feminist.  I had avoided these manhaters in school because they had armpit hair, bad purple dye jobs, and they smelled bad.  Not this woman.  She exuded class and confidence.  She introduced herself as Helen, and I managed to stutter out Myron.  She gave me her number and said "Call me".  Then she went to her table, bent over to pick up her purse(Women, if you want to get a man's undivided attention or interest, bend over near him), and walked out the door.  I called her after work, and we went to dinner.  She was interesting and witty.  Her eyes sparkled when she laughed.  I was smitten.  We dated exclusively for a month before she invited me to her house for a home cooked meal.  Afterwards, as I was helping with the cleanup, I jokingly told her to make me a sandwich for the road.  In truth, I was testing my boundaries.  I wanted her to get angry.  She did.  She grabbed me by the shoulders and stuffed her knee between my legs.  "Don't you ever order me around in the kitchen, even as a joke" she told me in a voice void of compassion for me on my knees holding my aching balls and groaning.  I learned that feminists have no qualms about zapping men in their jewels for miniscule reasons.  It must have been something she learned at her all-girl private school.  When I recovered, I started to leave.  Before I got to her door, she pulled me around, and I flinched.  For a split second, I saw cruel amusement in her eyes.  Immediately, it was replaced with concern and...maybe fear that I was walking out of her life.  She apologized and held on to me.  I apologized for making her angry, and she hugged me, melting against me, my painfully hard tumescence pressing into her stomach.  "Ooh, what's this?  Up for some make-up sex?"   We went to her bedroom and did just that.  Of course I was extraordinarily amorous after having my nads mashed, and really drilled her.  When we were finished, in each other's arms, and catching our breath, she let out a low chuckle and said "Mmm.  I should knee you more often".  I nervously laughed, and she said "Just kidding", but in my mind, I was already thinking of sexist things I could say to anger her enough to kick me.  I didn't have long to wait.  End of part one.

[Thomas Jones]

Great story. There is nothing better than when a woman makes it up to you like that after busting you. Especially when she initiates it. It has only happened to me twice really and once really good like this story. Keep her around.