Moaningful Confessions | Antonio and the Tonsils

Moaningful Confessions | Antonio and the Tonsils

So, our tale begins in the US, where I was staying with my parents over the summer holidays. During that time I had the perfectly rational horny thought to check out some American tinder boys. After some extensive swiping, I finally found someone half-decent. For the sake of this confession, we’ll call him Antonio. He asked me out for dinner (what a gentleman) and when he texted that he was outside, I was expecting him to roll up in a shitty 2000 white Toyota, as most 20-year-olds would, but this mans has a 2018 Mustang idling in front of my parent’s house. Now listen, I do not give a fuck about cars, but a Mustang? Excuse me, sir, I am open for business. So we go to dinner, had a super good time, great vibes, he’s charming and funny, and I can tell I’ve won the Tinder fling lottery for the duration of my stay stateside. He drops me home, and I begin to plot my next move.

Next time I see him, I invite him over to watch a movie, because I’m a classy, spontaneous woman and also as a test. My parents were home, and I kind of wanted to see what kind of spicey solutions this boy would come up with. After the movie finished, things started getting a little frisky (my parents were obviously sleeping), and I asked him, “so what do you want to do?” And this motherfucker just said, “Well, I live on the other side of town, so why don’t we just get a hotel room.” First of all, this mans got MONEY, second of all, will I get murdered? Possibly, but this is too good an opportunity to pass up. So we hopped in his car and drove to a nearby (4 star) hotel, checked in and got down to business. The next morning, after a continental breakfast, he dropped me home. I was starting to think this was my quasi-Mama Mia summer and I was determined to tick more off my sexy bucket list items. 

Now here’s where my summer fling moves from RomCom to Mystery. On our way to go hiking (classic American move), we got talking about his parents and just general life stuff. Through this conversation, I found out that his parents moved to [redacted state] because his father was a “vacuum salesman,” got into real estate (which is what Antonio does, allegedly), and I, frankly, was not convinced. Context: his family owns a plane, they fly to Mexico a few times a month, wealthy as fuck, and a lot of their “business” involves looking after empty houses. My theory? Mafia. Not only is Antonio Italian, but he has a very close extended family, is exceptionally good with money, and said, and I quote, “I just gotta continue the family legacy, you know?” Family legacy in real estate my ass. This boy was low tier Mafia and literally nothing can convince me otherwise. For those curious, yes we absolutely fucked in that national park. 

I once casually asked him, “have you killed anyone?” You know, like a normal person would, to which he replied gravely, “no, have you?” I just laughed, gotta give the man plausible deniability, not that he’d mind anyway. After a few more funky times, (including a drive-in movie theatre and some others that will remain here unnamed for legal reasons), it was nearly time for me to head back to NZ, but not before a cheeky tonsillectomy. He was very sweet during my recovery and brought me mashed potatoes and did his damn best to hold a conversation with me while I was on enough codeine to kill a small horse. The final saga of my magical summer was about 3-weeks post-surgery, the stitches still in my throat holes. We went on a final hike, super gorgeous one, and on the top of a mountain (secluded, I’m not an exhibitionist), we figured, hey, one for the road right? Well, we were doing the do, having a great time, when I figured, hey, blowjobs are fun (and I pride myself in being a skilled provider), and what better goodbye present could I give him? About halfway into his “goodbye present”, I felt something running down the back of my throat, but things weren’t quite adding up just yet. The taste of blood reminded me of the gaping holes where a dick was currently whacking into. Worth it, still got to fuck on a mountain and my stitches didn’t break. Antonio was the perfect summer fling, and I will forever keep him in mind for my true dream to become a Mafia Wife, also rip tonsils. 

This article first appeared in Issue 8, 2020.
Posted 10:27pm Thursday 21st May 2020 by Critic.