Okay,
I’m working on something longer, but it’s not quite ready yet—hopefully very
soon, though. However, I felt bad about being unusually silent, so I wrote this quickie,
primarily inspired by the Friday Flash “Jackpot” prompt. So, here you go, a
small but dirty token to prove I haven’t forgotten about you and that you mean
the world to me. Someone once asked me to write four sentences about titty fucking.
I didn’t think I could do it justice in only four sentences, but he seemed to
enjoy it. Let’s see what you think about a complete story with titty fucking in
only five-hundred words. The ending might make you groan, but I never said bad
puns were beneath me. (wicked grin)
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click on the badges beneath the story to read all the other posts!
While
we were passing through Vegas, it was my idea to save ourselves some family
drama and just elope. I also thought he’d get a kick out of having a cheesy Elvis
impersonator marry us. He was all for it, but suggested we make a brief detour to
the hotel casino.
“Ah,
I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Come
on, we’ll put that freaky intuition of yours to the test.”
Against
my better judgement, I let him drag me over to the roulette table. What can I say,
I was crazy in love with the dude. Amazingly, we actually won our first bet, and
our second, and a third!
He
grinned at me. “See? You’re my lucky charm!”
Many
hours and several mind-blowing orgasms later, I was sprawled out on our rumpled
bed, a blissfully boneless mass of girl flesh. He kissed his way up my body—after
once again demonstrating what a cunning linguist he was. I thought I was
completely spent, but then he used his talented tongue and teeth on my nipples.
Once
I was moaning and writhing beneath him again, he looked up at me with his burning
blue gaze. “I want to fuck your tits.”
“Mmmm,
yes, please.”
He
coated his fingers in my ample pussy cream and smeared it between my tits, then
straddled my chest. His drooling cock was hot and heavy along my breastbone. I
squeezed my large mounds together, making a snug titty-cunt around him.
“God,
that feels good.”
For
me, too. I loved him fucking my tits as much as he did. I loved being in a
submissive position and feeling his weight on me. I loved the heat of his hard cock
pushing between my cleavage. I loved him using me for his pleasure and seeing
the ecstasy wash over his handsome face. And I loved the sounds he made and the
filthy litany he uttered while he got himself off.
He
started rocking his hips and watched as the head of his cock emerged from between
my tits. I lifted my head to lick and kiss the tip every time it appeared.
Groaning, he gradually picked up speed until his balls were slapping the
underside of my tits.
The
needy ache he always inspired returned and I pressed my thighs together to give
myself some relief.
“I’m
going to fucking come!”
“Fuck
yeah, give your dirty girl all your spunk!”
With
several hard grunts, he shot rope after rope of thick, milky come on my chest,
neck, and chin.
He
collapsed beside me and watched as I played with his come, painting it on my
tits.
“Fuck
that’s hot.”
I
loved how much he came. If only come were gold…
“I
guess hitting the jackpot proves I’m lucky after all.
He
chuckled. “What are you talking about? We’re completely broke.”
“But
I’ve got a hot husband now.” I waggled my fingers, showing off the not-quite-gold
band on my finger. “And there’s a motherlode all over my chest.”
I
originally had this idea for last week’s Wicked Wednesday “Observe” prompt, but
I didn’t get it done in time. My muse has been rather unfocused and difficult
to nail down recently. But when this idea came to me, it kind of wrote itself—just
not fast enough. Anyway, I adjusted it a bit to fit this week’s Masturbation Monday and Wicked Wednesday prompts.
If
you’re curious, here’s a link to the Turner painting mentioned in this story.
And at the end, there’s a video of the Monty Python song “Always Look on the
Bright Side of Life.”
Please
click on the badges below the video to read all the other posts!
I’d
been observing him for several weeks. Every morning, he came into the art
museum where I worked and sat in front of a particularly moody painting. It was
a Turner called “The Shipwreck” that we had on loan for a few months.
He
was an attractive man, a little older than me—maybe in his mid-thirties. I
thought he might work in one of the nearby office buildings, because he was
always dressed in business casual. But his golden-brown hair was a little long and
there was always a day’s worth of stubble on his strong jaw. I never thought I
liked the scruffy look, but on him it was hot.
So
naturally, I noticed him the first time he came in. With a dour expression of
his face, he’d sit on the bench in front of the Turner, his elbows braced on
his legs and his shoulders slumped. He stared at the painting so intensely I
wondered if he was trying to teleport himself into the turbulent scene. My mind
was overrun with curiosity.
Just
for the heck of it, I read my horoscope every day—not that I really believed it.
However, that morning it read:
Be
the light. Brighten someone’s day and show them all the colors of the rainbow.
And
that was exactly what I intended to do.
“Good
morning,” I said brightly as I sat down beside Mr. Gloomy.
He
looked at me for a long moment, clearly perplexed, but politeness won out.
“Hi.”
I
nodded my head at the Turner. “You must really like this painting.”
“Yeah,
it’s…powerful.”
“And
depressing.”
He
looked down at my blouse and the nametag emblazoned with Teresa. “Don’t
you work here? Aren’t you supposed to tell me what a great work of art it is?”
“Oh,
it’s a masterpiece. Truly. It’s also depressing as hell. I can’t imagine coming
here every day and brooding over it for half an hour.”
“You
noticed, huh?”
“Yep.
You’re much too good looking to be so morose.”
The
corner of his mouth quirked up for a second, but then he sighed. “I’ve had a
rough time of it.”
“So
I gathered. Want to talk about it?”
“I
don’t want to bore you with my problems.”
“Hey,
I offered.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Besides, it’s part of my job here
to make sure the patrons have an enjoyable artistic experience. You are clearly
not having a good time.”
“No,
I guess not.”
“And
your mood is contagious.” I leaned closer and stage-whispered, “You’re bringing
everybody down, dude.”
He
huffed a laugh that sounded kind of rusty. But hey, it was a start. “My ex is
making my life hell and all my supposed friends are traitors.”
“That
really sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“But
you know what?”
“What?”
“Screw
‘em.”
He
snorted.
“Okay,
I know it’s radically simplistic.”
“Not
to mention easier said than done.”
“Do
you want her—or him—back?”
“Her.
And hell no.”
“Also,
friends like that you don’t need.”
“True.”
“Let
me ask you this. Is wallowing in your misery making you feel any better?”
“No.”
“It’s
just playing right into her hands. Don’t let her win. As they say, living well
is the best revenge.”
He
nodded thoughtfully.
“So
you should look on the bright side of life. Like the song.”
He
gave me a blank stare.
“From
Monty Python.” When he continued staring, I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t make
me sing it.”
I
got a real, full-blown smile this time. “I know the song, but I really can’t
see a bright side of this situation.”
After
a moment of thought, I said, “Well, was there anything that you enjoyed that
you couldn’t do with your ex? Either because she didn’t like it or wouldn’t let
you?”
His
eyes widened, then his expression turned guilty. “Not really.”
“Liar.
I saw that look. There is something.”
He
shifted in his seat. “I can’t tell you. It’s…sexual.”
“Ah,
I see. Just between you and me, I’m fairly open-minded about sexual matters.” I
leaned in closer. “I’m actually kind of freaky.”
He
looked at me speculatively for a moment. “Really?”
“Oh
yeah.” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Try me.”
After
glancing around us, he leaned closer to me and said in a hushed voice, “I’ve
always wanted to give a woman a messy facial, but my ex thought it was
demeaning.”
I
chewed on my bottom lip, but then grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the
bench.
“Where
are we going?” he asked as I led him down a hall.
“My
office. We need privacy for this.”
Once
we were inside the closet I tried to spend as little time in as possible, I
shut and locked the door behind us.
He
was leaning against my desk when I turned to face him.
With
my back to the door, I unfastened the top button on my blouse. “We’re going to
make your dirty fantasy come true.”
He
swallowed. “Okay.”
I
smiled at his casual response, because I saw the heat burning in his blue eyes.
As I undid one button after another, he watched intently, his gaze going from
warm to scorching. I pulled the blouse free of my skirt and shrugged it off,
revealing my lace bra dyed in a rainbow pattern.
The
whole naughty scene was getting me hot, too. Desire unfurled low and slow in my
belly. A needy ache thrummed between my legs and moisture quickly pooled there,
soaking into my matching panties. As his gaze devoured my breasts, my nipples
tightened, pushing against the fine lace.
I
sauntered up to him and placed my blouse on the desk. “I didn’t want to risk
getting it messy.”
“Good
thinking.” His gaze was still focused on my tits. “You should lose the bra too.”
Grinning,
I reached back and unfastened my bra. Then it joined my blouse on the desk.
“I
love your big tits.”
I
traced my fingers over the blatant erection outlined beneath his slacks. “Do you
want my hand or my mouth?”
Lifting
his gaze to meet mine, he hissed out a breath. “Both.”
“Mmmm,
my pleasure.” I meant it too.
Kneeling
between his legs, I unzipped his pants and freed his cock. He was gloriously
hard, but I planned to make him even harder. My hand wrapped around the base, I
slowly licked up his shaft, stopping just beneath the head to tease the sensitive
spot there.
He
groaned and cupped the back of my head, his hand gently holding my ponytail.
I
took just the head into my mouth and softly sucked on it. Some pre-come oozed
out onto my tongue, making me moan at the taste of him. I tried to ignore the
growing ache in my horny cunt, focusing all my attention on pleasing him.
“Fuck!”
Sucking
a little harder, I slid my mouth down his cock, taking more and more of him until
my nose was buried in his thatch of pubic hair. I loved the heady, musky smell
of him there. I gradually moved back up his shaft, then back down again. I set
up a steady rhythm, up and down, the head of his cock nudging the back of my
throat every time I took all of him.
I
could hear him breathing hard. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
It
made me even hotter that I was pleasing him so much—making him forget all the
crap that had been weighing on him. I pressed my thighs together to relieve some
of my neediness and sucked him even harder.
His
grip on my ponytail tightened, but he didn’t try forcing me into a faster rhythm.
Reluctantly,
I relinquished his now-slick cock and used my hand to stroke him. “Am I a good
little cocksucker?”
“Fuck
yeah.”
I
really got off on dirty talk and especially enjoyed being called filthy names.
But right then, I was more drawn to his balls. While I jerked him off, I took
one in my mouth and lightly sucked on it, massaging it with my tongue.
He
moaned. “You are so fucking hot.”
As
I gave the other one the same attention, I stroked him harder and faster.
“I’m
going to fucking come!”
He
pulled on my ponytail, so I released him and looked up expectantly, my mouth
slightly open. Still holding my head, he took over jerking his cock in forceful
strokes. When the first blast of come hit my glasses, I closed my eyes reflexively.
I heard his soft grunts as several more heavy lines of spunk fell across my
face. Easing my head back even further, he shot two final ropes on my tits.
I
felt so wonderfully filthy and realized I was grinding my thighs together to
get some much-needed friction.
When
he released my ponytail, I went to take off my messy glasses so I could see him,
but he stopped me. “Wait, can I take a picture of you like that?”
I
chuckled. “Sure. Only if you promise to keep it to yourself.”
“Of
course.”
I
heard some rustling, then a click from what I assumed was his cellphone.
Once
he gave me the go-ahead, I set aside my come-covered glasses and captured a
thick, milky dollop of spunk that was about to fall off my chin. While he
watched, I painted it on my nipples. I moaned as I smeared the rest of his come
all over my tits, luxuriating in the sweet filthiness of it.
“Damn,
that’s hot.”
“Mmmm,
fuck yeah. I’m so fucking horny right now I could self-combust.”
Faster
than I would have thought possible, he picked me up and had me sprawled out on
my desk.
“What
are you doing?”
He
grinned down at me. “Returning the favor.”
I
groaned. “Thank fuck.”
He
didn’t waste any time pushing up my skirt and removing my drenched panties. All
too soon, he had my legs spread wide apart and eagerly demonstrated what a
skilled and talented tongue he had.
“Your
ex is a fucking idiot!”
Then
he slid two long fingers deep inside my cunt and I completely lost the ability
to speak—or even form a coherent thought.
After
several mind-blowing orgasms and I finally came back to earth, we quietly put
ourselves back together. I had a lot more fixing to do than he did, but I
really didn’t mind.
“Can
I buy you a coffee after work?”
I’d
been using a wet-nap to wipe the come off my face, but stopped to look at him. “I’d
love that.”
“One
thing…”
“Hmmm?”
“Leave
my come on your tits for the rest of the day.”
It
was the beginning of a beautifully dirty friendship.
When
I saw the Friday Flash prompt, I associated it with a bad dream I had recently.
There was nothing sexual about it. Some kind of malevolent force was holding me
immobile. I was frightened at first, but then I fought back and banished it,
thereby freeing myself. So, ultimately, it was positive—although, not very
pleasant. I decided to take a much different tone in this story.
Please
click on the badges below the story to read the other posts!
There
was a presence in the room with me. I couldn’t see anything, but I felt it. I
sat up in bed and looked around the dark room—the moonlight seeping in the
windows provided some ambient light. There didn’t appear to be anything unusual,
but there was still…something.
My
gaze settled on the lone chair in the corner and lingered there. I couldn’t
explain it, but I kept staring at the empty space. I told myself I was being
silly. There was nothing there. Still, as I lay back down, I continued watching
the chair.
I
was drifting off to sleep when I saw it—a shimmering outline of what I inherently
knew was a male form. My heart pounding, I tried to bolt upright again, but I
was frozen in place. Panic overtook me and I gasped for air.
Then,
I heard it…a calm, rich, velvety voice…in my head.
Shhh,
do not worry. I mean you no harm.
Warm
affection washed over me and I relaxed, inexplicably surrendering to the
invisible force that bound me.
Good
girl.
As
my breathing calmed, I felt something—a lot of somethings—softly caressing me
from head to toe. It was like hundreds of fingers gently stroking my skin,
making it highly sensitive. My heart rate quickened for a much more arousing reason.
My nipples tightened into taut peaks and liquid desire flooded my sex.
Then
the tingling started. It was everywhere initially, but as it grew stronger, it
concentrated on my nipples. I moaned as the sensations reverberated throughout
my body. I was humming with pleasure when something new added to my sweet torment.
A
phantom mouth glided down the column of my neck, the unmistakable sensation of
lips, tongue, and teeth teasing my skin. The tingling in my nipples turned into
light pinching as my ghostly lover kissed and nibbled his way down to my
drenched cunt.
I
gasped, then whimpered as his tongue slid between my creamy folds and circled my
clit. As he drove me wild by sucking my tender nub, there was a heavenly stretching,
filling sensation in my cunt. He found the perfect spot deep inside me to focus
his attention while the pressure on my nipples increased and he cleverly worked
my clit until my pleasure built to a zenith.
Come
for me, sweet thing.
The
most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced tore through me, making me writhe in ecstasy,
finally freeing me. My rapturous cries filled the room as I convulsed with one
blissful jolt after another.
Thank
you, my love. I promise to return…soon.
I
was still trembling with the aftershocks when I sat up and looked around the
room. Again, I couldn’t see anything. I also didn’t feel his presence anymore—only
the lingering warm pleasure he’d created that left me practically glowing.
I
didn’t know if it was real or just a figment of my wild imagination. But I knew
I’d happily be bound to my dream lover for all eternity.
I
hadn’t intended to write anything for the Wicked Wednesday "Piercing" prompt, because
piercings really aren’t my thing. However, I fell down the YouTube rabbit hole—where
one video leads to another, and another, etc. I happened upon the Dire Straits
song “You and Your Friend” and this dirty idea popped into my head. Yes, I know
the title isn’t proper grammar, but I did it intentionally to mimic the song
title. Unfortunately, I didn’t get it done in time for last week's Wicked Wednesday, so now
it’s an early Masturbation Monday, Wicked Wednesday, and Smutathon post.
If
you don’t know anything about Smutathon, you can check it out here. It’s for a
worthy cause!
Please
also click on the badges to read all the other posts!
We
were sitting on the sofa, casually chatting, when he came home.
When
he entered the living room and saw us, he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked
from me, to my new friend, and back again.
Before
he could ask, I said, “This is Kitty. We met in yoga class and got to talking.”
Kitty
grinned and tossed her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “We have so much
in common!”
He
sat in a chair across from us. “Is that so.”
“While
we were talking, I noticed something and asked her to help us out with one of
your fantasies.”
His
eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything.
“Show
him, Kitty.”
She
stuck out her tongue, proudly displaying her silver barbell tongue piercing.
His
eyes widened and a slow smile spread across his face.
I
wasn’t into piercings—other than the one set in my ears. However, I knew he was
curious about receiving oral from someone with a tongue piercing. Since I
didn’t plan on getting one anytime soon, Kitty seemed a reasonable alternative.
She
was bisexual and in a committed relationship with a woman, but was allowed
flings with men as long as it wasn’t serious. Not only was he curious about the
pleasures a piercing could bring, but he also fantasized about me instructing
another woman on how to suck his cock. When the idea occurred to me, I talked
it over with Kitty and she was eager to play.
I
got up and stripped off my yoga pants and sports bra, but left on my panties. “I
told Kitty about your amazing cock and how much I love sucking it.”
Kitty
followed my lead, stripping down to pink polka dot panties and baring her small
perky tits. “Yeah, she promised to teach what you like.”
As
I walked over to him, he gave me a pointed look. “Are you sure about this?”
He
knew I wasn’t into sharing, but this was something I thought I could live with.
Smiling,
I knelt at his feet. “Just this once.”
“Well,
if you’re really sure,” he said, pulling off his T-shirt and tossing it aside, “I’m
all yours, dirty girl.”
Nibbling
on my lower lip, I slid my hands up his legs until I felt his cock beneath the
denim. He was firming up quickly and I traced his length, stroking him through his
softly worn jeans. I held his gaze, watching the heat build in his eyes and his
eyelids getting heavier.
Kitty
joined me, kneeling in front of him as I unfastened his jeans and slowly lowered
his zipper.
He
lifted his hips so we could pull off his jeans and boxer briefs in one go. His
cock bobbed out completely hard and ready for action. With his clothes joining
ours, he shifted down towards the edge of his seat and spread his legs wide
apart.
Seeing
him aroused and entirely available to my lascivious intentions never failed to inspire
my ever-smoldering desire. An enticing warmth unfurled low in my belly and a needy
ache in my sex made me squirm as I knelt before him. His lips curved into a
sexy grin as he looked down at me, not missing anything.
Leaning
forward, I stroked my fingers up his shaft. “I like to lick the underside, then
take the head in my mouth and just lightly suck on it.”
I
followed the path of my fingers with my tongue, teasing the thick vein from
base to tip. I circled the head before wrapping my lips around it and softly
sucking it just like I’d described.
He
groaned and threaded his fingers through my hair, clasping a handful while I massaged
the sensitive spot beneath the head with the flat of my tongue.
I
released him long enough to say, “After that, I take him nice and deep.”
His
grip on my hair tightened as I sucked him into my mouth until he nudged the
back of my throat. I did it a few more times, loving the taste of him. I wanted
to keep sucking while I played with my horny cunt, but that wasn’t the point of
this particular scene. This was all about his pleasure.
Reluctantly,
I relinquished his cock and he released my hair.
“Go
on,” I said, motioning to Kitty. “You give it a try.”
She
mimicked what I’d done, but I knew her piercing was having the desired effect
by the way his chest heaved. I watched her mouth working as she concentrated
her attention on the head of his cock.
“Christ!”
“Feel
good?”
His
burning blue eyes met mine. “Fuck yeah.”
Returning
my attention to Kitty, I saw her smiling at me around his cock.
“Now
take him all the way in your mouth,” I told her.
She
slid her mouth down, but only took about half of him. This had all been prearranged.
She knew just what to do.
“No,
you have to take him deeper.”
I
took hold of her ponytail and urged her to swallow all of him until she made a
gagging sound. I let her back up and pushed her back down again, fucking him
with her face—again and again.
He
moaned. “You’re such a good little fuckwhore.”
I
knew the dirty compliment was directed towards me and grinned up at him.
Even
though this scene was primarily for his benefit, I found the illicitness of the
whole thing surprisingly hot. My panties were sopping wet and my clit throbbed
in time with my pounding heartbeat.
Kitty
was getting off on it, too. She had her hand down inside her panties, playing
with her pussy while she sucked him off.
Heh…Kitty
was playing with her pussy.
His
loud groan snapped me out of my amusing thought. “I’m going to come any fucking
second.”
I
gently pulled Kitty’s head back and she released his cock with a wet smacking
sound.
His
cock was thoroughly coated in saliva and looked painfully hard. I took him in my
tight grip and jacked him off hard and fast, the tip of his cock pointed right
at Kitty’s face.
Anticipating
what was coming, she furiously rubbed her clit. Her head was tilted back, her
eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. I was only holding her ponytail. She was
lost in her own pleasure.
“Fuck!”
The
first hard blast of spunk fell across her face and into her hair. She flinched
slightly, but was quickly overcome by her own orgasm, crying out in pleasure as
several more ropes of come decorated her face.
I
released my hold on her hair and leaned forward to lap up the last drops I
milked from his cock.
After
we took a picture of Kitty’s messy facial for posterity, I helped her clean up
and she went home.
Once
she left, he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the bedroom.
“Am
I in trouble?”
“No,
I’m going to get one of the other little friends you keep in your night table
and make you come until you beg for mercy. Then, I’m going to come all over your
face. Or tits. Or ass. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Just
inside his apartment, we were locked in a passionate embrace, his body pinning
mine to the door. Moaning as he fiercely reclaimed my mouth, I rocked my hips against
his obvious erection.
Much
to my frustration, he pulled away, breathing heavily. “So, I’m forgiven?”
“As
long as you have a damn good reason for leaving the way you did.”
“I
really do.”
“Good.”
I slipped past him and headed for the bedroom. “You can tell me later.”
“Later?”
“Yes.”
I turned around and smiled at his confused expression. “Right now, I need you
to fuck me. Hard.”
“Just
like that?”
“Yes.”
I lowered one spaghetti strap, then the other, and let my dress slither down my
body until it pooled on the floor. “I missed you. Desperately.”
His
eyebrows rose when he saw my red lacy underwear. “You sure you weren’t planning
to pick up a guy tonight?”
I
grinned. “You know, the whole jealousy thing is hot.”
He
frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
I
rolled my eyes. “If I tell you, you’re going to think I’m weird.”
“Try
me.”
“My
mind wandered while I was getting dressed. A wave of desire washed over me and
I felt compelled to wear something sexy. For you.”
“You
knew I’d show up?”
“No,
but I wanted to hold on to that feeling.”
His
gaze followed my hands as I slid them over my body from shoulders to hips.
“I
thought I’d come home and strip out of the dress.” I reached around, unfastened
my bra, and tossed it aside. “Just like you always want, I’d lose the fucking
bra, too.”
His
heavy-lidded eyes met mine, then ogled my tits.
“I’d
planned to leave my panties on.” I stroked my hand down my stomach and cupped
my lace-covered pussy. “I knew I’d be wet from thinking about you all night.”
I
slipped my fingers beneath the crotch and delved between my creamy slit. Avoiding
my tender nub for the moment, I got my fingers thoroughly coated in my juices,
then held them up for him to see.
He
groaned, but stayed a few feet away, just watching me. I could sense the
tension building in him, though—like a coiled snake poised to strike.
I
returned my hand to my cunt, pressing the soaked lace into my folds. While I
used the wet fabric to tease my clit, I cupped my breast with my other hand and
pinched my nipple.
The
sensations crashing through me, I moaned as my head fell back. I furiously frigged
my clit and squeezed my nipples painful until I was vibrating with pleasure—oh so
close to coming.
He
made a deep growling sound. Then I was hanging upside down over his shoulder as
he charged into the bedroom.
It
was a hard and fast reclaiming, but highly satisfying.
Still
panting, he looked down at me. “Why did you wait for me?”
I
brushed a lock of silver hair from his face. “Because I love you…even though.”
When
I saw the Wicked Wednesday “Frigid” prompt, this idea came to me. There’s also
a little Masturbation Monday thrown in. It’s a slow build and more romantic
than erotic, but sometimes my writing swings that way. So, you’ve been warned.
Actually, it could be the backstory to my flash fiction story from last week—“That Touch of Arrogance.”
Please
click on the badges below the story to read all the other posts!
Occasionally
guys will hit on me, but I efficiently send them on their way. I generally try
to put out a “not interested” vibe to avoid the whole awkward situation. Many
guys might think I’m frigid—which is ironic.
I
might appear to be cold and aloof, but I’m a raging river of molten desire. I’m
just waiting for the man who ignites my flame like no one I’ve ever known.
I’ve
always been waiting for him—even before I knew he existed.
I
don’t know why he left me the way he did. At first, I was angry and swore I was
done—really done this time. It wasn’t the first he’d disappeared. However much
he enjoyed our contact, I’d gotten the impression that he also regretted it.
Even
so, when he was around, everything was golden. The passionate intensity that
sparked between us was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It was
irresistible and all-consuming. We had so much in common—and not just sexually.
If it had been just cheap desire, it wouldn’t have killed me every time he said
goodbye.
Of
course, I never let him know how strongly I felt. I thought if I kept things
casual—if I acted like his comings and goings didn’t bother me—that he’d relax
about spending time with me. I’d hoped that if he knew I didn’t have any
expectations, that he wouldn’t keep running off.
During
his absences, I tried finding the same magic with someone else. It was never
anything but momentary fun and easily forgotten. When he reappeared, I dropped
everything and his pleasure became my priority again.
I
did tell him about the others, hoping it would reinforce my supposedly casual
attitude. I’m sure he believed that I sold my loving like Christmas cards, but
that was far from the truth. He might be surprised how few other guys there
were. Maybe I also hoped he’d get jealous. Sometimes I thought he might be.
After
I told him about another guy, his passion took a more feral tone. Whether it
was true or not, I imagined he cared enough to feel a need to reassert his
claim. I won’t lie, the possessiveness made me incredibly hot. But then, he’d
disappear again and I assumed my flights of fancy got the better of me.
I
know what you’re thinking: “Get off the rollercoaster, girl. Just cut the guy
loose.”
Believe
me, I tried.
When
my life became impossibly messy—not because of him—I did a disappearing act of
my own. I wasn’t trying to punish him or hurt him. I really didn’t think I
mattered enough for him to care all that much. But I was in a bad place and I
didn’t have anything left to give. So I let him go.
Over
the years, I regretted that he might think it was somehow his fault. That I was
rejecting him. But that wasn’t the case at all.
Again,
you’re probably thinking, “How many times did he do the same thing to you?
Screw him!”
Nothing
in my life is ever that simple. Nothing is ever black and white. He had his
reasons and I understood them. I even respected him for them. Yeah, I know how
messed up that sounds. So, even though I hated his leaving, I couldn’t really
be angry at him for it.
Things
gradually got better for me. I still have loads of issues, but I’m working on
them. Thanks to the internet, I was able to check in on him from time to time.
I saw he was still doing what he loved, and seemed to be happy and well.
However,
I didn’t give him more than a cursory look. Like a person on a diet, I tried to
avoid temptation. He was the most decadent kind—a rich and gooey slice of
chocolate cake. Devil’s food, all the way, with mocha frosting and dark
chocolate ganache.
Then
one day, he sent me a message. I don’t know how or when he found me. To be
honest, I may have left a few breadcrumbs, but I never thought he’d actually
track me down. Although I was thrilled to hear from him, I was hesitant. I didn’t
know if he was just being friendly or if he wanted more.
Before
I knew it, we were right back where we were—except it was a little different.
Oh, it was as hot and heavy as ever, maybe even more so. This time, though, I
felt he’d found some sense of peace with our relationship—such that it was.
With
him back in my life, I dove in and looked more closely at past events. Maybe I’d
been willfully blind because I didn’t want to be disappointed.
A
very different picture started forming. One in which I did matter to him and
that he’d missed me—probably more than I knew. That changed a lot of things for
me, but it still wasn’t smooth sailing. He began pulling away again and I didn’t
know why.
I
gave him space, but it only got worse. Was he just busy? Was he tired of me? Had
I stepped too far outside the box he liked to keep me in? I didn’t know. Then,
out of the blue, he completely cut me off—without a word.
Alright,
I know you’re thinking, “You’re better off without him.”
I
really don’t believe that. Despite all the angst and uncertainty, I come alive
when he’s around. I’m my truest self. He lights a fire in me like no one else
can. I miss him with every breath I take.
How
did I go from being angry to having faith that he would come back to me? As
much as I tried to push him from my mind and focus on my own life, I just
couldn’t. The whole thing bothered me—and not because he dumped me again.
It’s
hard to explain, but it all just doesn’t make sense. The way he acted when we
reconnected, all the stuff I came to realize, then the abrupt disconnection.
Other things are different too. Even from afar, I know he’s still around, but not
as much. It feels like he’s keeping a low profile for some reason.
With
every ounce of my being, I know something is going on—something he either
doesn’t want me to know or can’t tell me for some reason. But he’s clearly
keeping me away from it. There have been hints, though, that I shouldn’t give
up on him. Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see, but I’m willing to wait to
finally hear his side of the story. For however long it takes.
Late
at night, I wonder if he can feel me. If he knows how much I miss him and crave
his touch. As bizarre as it sounds, I still feel the connection between us—maybe
stronger than ever. When I run my hands over my body, I imagine they’re his. Or
that he’s watching.
In
my head, I hear him telling me to pinch my nipples harder. As the pleasure ripples
through me, I hope he feels it. I want him to know how he ignites my desire and
makes me so very wet.
I
can almost hear his warm voice urging me to slip my fingers between my drenched
slit. I circle my clit, my breathing getting faster as my arousal builds. Then
I slip my fingers lower, filling my tight cunt and getting them coated in my juices.
I know he’d want me to paint my cream all over my fat nipples, so I do.
Alone
in my bed, I wonder if he’d rather watch my wanton display, or if he’d lick the
cunt juice from my nipples. Maybe he’d lightly bite them, making me writhe and
moan from the pleasure-pain.
Part
of me wants him to watch while he strokes his cock. I miss watching him jerk
off. I can picture it so easily and it gets me even hotter. I love seeing his
strong hand wrapped around his shaft, gripping it firmly as he moves his hand from
the base to the glistening head.
I
can conjure his lust-roughened voice saying, “Stick your finger in your filthy
slut asshole.”
And
I eagerly obey, just for him, pushing my slick middle finger in my forbidden
fuckhole. Because I know it’s what he’d want, I finger-fuck my ass while my
thumb madly works my clit.
Silently,
I beg him to cover my tits in his thick spunk. Imagining him doing just that
sends me careening over the edge. I call out his name as an intense orgasm rips
through me, leaving me shattered—but still empty, because he’s not there. As I
drift off to sleep, I hope he felt me come for him, and that I see him in my
dreams.
So,
I’m waiting for him to return. Waiting forever maybe, but hopefully not.
Because I love him. And I need him. It’s just that simple.
Anaïs
Nin once wrote:
Do
not seek the because—in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no
solutions.
