Sexkitten

COMMITMENT ISSUES

Do I have it in me to settle down? Am I the marrying Kind?

Sure, I am. I am faithful and caring and kind. I will love you like you've never been loved. I will support your dreams and make certain that your needs whether they are sexual or emotional, if it is in my power to fulfill them, it shall be done.

Yes, I can be the marrying kind. I know that I can be even though my track recond tells another story.

It’s not often that I get to ask myself these questions. Most of my relationships don’t last long enough for this to be an issue.

I am a serial dater. Allan told me this many years ago and I’ve come to accept it.

Where most people imagine happily ever after in a new relationship, I get into most of my mine with the end in mind. He may last a week, two months, three months—I wanted cock, cock, and more cock along with occasional companionship, and lazy days doing whatever. And when I got tired of the man with the cock. I move on to the next man, and the next, and the next….

It's not that I don't think that I am deserving of love. I am 200% deserving. I enjoy the hell out of a hug, kiss, touch, and fuck like no other that I know. I am in love with being loved. There's a great big romantic in me, she's just consumed by carnal desires.

I broke a lot of hearts along the way let me tell you even though I didn’t mean to, they just didn’t believe me when I tell them that I just wanted to fuck and would leave one day. “Don’t love me,” I warned. “If you do, I will surely break your heart,”

The problem I've come to realize is that I have serious commitment issues.

I just dont feel the need find a man and settle down even though I'm one hundred percent happy with Nick and feels that I have settled down. I have no need for anyone else. That is settling down isn't it? Or does settling down means getting married?

I don’t care about marriage and I may never care about it. All my friends are married, time they said was running out. I’m in my thirties and I still don’t give a shit. I have all the time in the world.

Falling in love with B was a surprise that took me to places I had no desire to go, and put thoughts and questions in my head I didn't want. But I didn't walk away. I went with my feelings. I was committed.

Now, I'm with Nick and I find myself taking a similiar road. I love this man. I love him passionately. I love him from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. I don't want anyone else. There IS no one else. I would not be anymore committed to him if we were married than I am commited to him living apart. That's commitment isn't it?

He is wonderful to himself and he is wonderful to me. He is incredibly attractive. He is funny—adventurous—wealthy—intelligent--cultured—well mannered--attentive. He's everything I want in a man. I trust him implicitly.

When I started dating him I did so with the end in mind too. I was convinced that I do not have the time nor the desire to invest in nurturing a relationship. I am not sure that has changed, but Im enjoying my time with Nick. I’ve been him for over a year and his cock is sweeter today than it was a year ago. He is sexier to me, funnier, more adventurous, more sexually and intellectually stimulating. I can't get enough of him.

We’ve been talking about moving in together and whenever we do, I stare at him blankly. I don't say much. I have a million things going through my mind and filled with fear that if we take that step I will screw up our beautiful love affair.

Nick has a beautiful home, but I like having my own place. I don’t know how to live in someone else’s space. I like to visit and then go home. When I’m there I’m comfortable and I’m not. I love that he’s organize but worries about the fact that I’m not.

He has a helper and everything is always spotless. My place is full of toys and fingerprints and spots on my walls where Little C has drawn trains and cars, and little men and all kinds of crap. The dishes are not always cleaned and packed away the moment I get done with them. My panties are not always in the drawer. But I love my little Island.

On the other hand, I love to be around Nick's things. I love how everything smells like him. I like to dress in his scrubs and his socks. I love to climb naked in his bed. I love when he comes home to me. I love when he leaves me there. I love that he wants me there.

If f it were just me, I would move in with him without a second thought. I can move out and move on easily if things doesn't work out. But it’s a bit more complicated with kids.

One year even though it’s a long for me, is not long at all, in the grand scheme of things.

I do not mean to over analyze, and I’m not doom and gloom, but I like to look at things as they are, and I cannot discount my past. If it's any indication of my future, I may be in trouble.

Of course, this could be the beginning of a new chapter.

MY NEW CURVES

I stand before the mirror butt naked looking at myself before putting on the red bikini I just bought wondering, am I up for it?

I keep staring at myself. I am now a size 3 up from being a comfortable size 1-2 for most of my life and except my tits, I didn’t have to worry about anything popping out.

Now in my thirties, my body is changing…of its own accord, taking on a new form…my ass is rounder, plumper, and sexier. I feel more feminine and womanly. I love my new curves.

I turn this way and that. I look at my flat abs. My legs are still nicely toned even though I didn’t run enough throughout the long winter. My arms are nice and toned from my years of lifting. I am happy with what I see. I feel sexy.

Nick is an ass and legs man and of late, has been commenting on my ass a lot.

Baby, I think that your ass is getting bigger.

Baby I love the way your ass look in those Jeans.

Baby, I want to shoot my wad all over your sexy ass.

I love the attention. But am I getting fat? I wondered. But how? I’m still a workout fiend. I'm still a healthy eater. What is with my ass growing after all these years? What does it mean?

I thought that I could throughout my life, keep the same body I had at sixteen years old. Standing there, I realized that my sixteen-year old body looked more like a twelve-year old boy. Slim and trim yes, but no tits (until I got a boob job), a little ass, and barely there curves.

Now I see a woman far sexier than ever before.

Did I already say that I love my new curves? I freaking love my new curves.

I keep staring and touching myself. The red bikini was on my bed.
I pick up the bikini bottom and tie the tiny stings around my hips, and smile with satisfaction. I pick up the top. I have concerns. Will my bold seducers fit? They did, surprisingly, but barely. They would most certainly try to escape.

In the past, when I have gained a pound or two, I would immediately execute a plan to get rid of them. I would pay closer attention to my diet and workout regimen. But this time, I am happy in my skin. That does not mean that I’m going to let myself go, that I assure everyone will never happen. I have to be in great shape. That's all there is to it. That's a commitment I have to myself.

And yes, I am ready for summer.

ALL NIGHT PORN FEST

I love porn, but I have never been able to bring myself to pay for it even though I’ve been tempted many, many times. I just can’t justify it.

Last night, Nick calls and tells me that we are members of a porn site.

“Why?” I asked.

“I want to keep you stimulated while I’m a way and learning new ways to satisfy me,” he said.

I spent all night giving myself orgasms...four to be exact before I turn off the computer at 3am.
I could not stop watching. I find myself riveted to the screen in a scene that both disturbed and enticed me. In the scene, a woman is sandwiched between two men. She’s sitting on one of the man’s cock while the other man penetrates her from behind. The one who takes her from behind pounds her mercilessly and calls her a whore. She agrees and begs for more.

I feel sorry for her. The pain must be excruciating. That can’t feel good, I thought. Or could it? But as badly as I feel for her I could not take my eyes off her stretched out pussy stuffed with these seemingly monster cocks. I shamefully and shamelessly could not look away, the orgasm I experience from the image had me screaming like a banshee in the wee morning hours.

This all night porn fest was not all roses. I find myself frustrated and pissed off at times thinking, enough already. Start fucking.

I don’t watch porn for bad acting. And I don’t care for too much oral action either.

A couple of minutes is all I can tolerate, any more than that outright frustrates me, especially when I have an orgasm on pause. This was the case with the last flick. I had spent a good while playing with my cunt as I watch porn after porn. My clit is swollen and throbbing and aching. I am ready to cum. And I can, at anytime. The slightest touch to my ready clit and sexually induce mind would send me into orgasmic heaven, but I don’t want to waste a good orgasm on cock-sucking and pussy licking that does nothing for me, so I wait for the right image—I want to see cock going in and out of pussy. That is what turns me on. Only these fuckers wouldn’t stop giving oral to each other. I try to fast forward and the damn thing froze and wouldn’t restart. I had to start from the beginning. I lost interest in that particular clip, but kept searching porn flicks for one without the bad acting and oral sex, but did not have the patience for it.

My last orgasm in the wee hours of the morning was to an image in my own head of my pussy split apart and getting pounded by Nick’s cock.

I may have him cancel our membership. I still cannot justify paying to see people fuck when we do so much of it ourselves.

I am going to make my own porn or do what I’ve been doing for years now, which is mooch of free porn clips.

SMELL THE ROSES

“What are you thinking?” Jennifer asked.

We were sitting at her mother’s kitchen table eating her mother’s delicious birthday cake and talking about work, enjoying the summer, clothes, shoes, men, and life in general.

“I am back with John,” she said excitedly.

“Ok,” I said. I was not surprised. I suspected as much.

She stared at me. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“No,” I said.

She laughed and waved her hand as if to brush away my answer.

“He stopped by my apartment with flowers and apologized for getting upset with me. He said that I have a right to ask for more, and he just needs a little more time to figure out how to ask his wife for divorce,”

“Ok,” I said taking another bite of cake.

She kept staring at me. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About John and me,”

“I don’t care,” I said.

“I know that you don’t approve,” she said.

“It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. You are an adult,”

“Do you consider me a friend?” she asked.

“I think that we are becoming friends,”

“Well, let’s pretend that we are long time friends who can say anything to each other. What would you say to me?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” I said.

“Come on, Kitten. I really want to talk about this, it's important to me,”

“I would respect whatever decisions you make even if I don’t agree with them,” I said.

“But would you tell me what you think of John and me?”

“Yes,”

“Even if it’s not good,”

“Yes,” I said.

"Why?"

I thought about it for a moment. “I find that being an outsider looking in, sometimes I have a clearer view of situations that my friends are in because I'm not emotionally involve. I can see trouble where they cannot. Sometimes it's clear as day but they don't see it. I'm not always right, and I don't expect them to listen to me and they often don't, and that's all right. But they value my opinon. The same is true for me. They tell me the truth even when it's ugly, and I wouldn't have it any other way,"

“What is your unbiased view of my relationship with John?” She asked

“I don’t want to get into that,” I said.

“I want to know what you think,”

“Are you easily offended?” I asked.

“I can take it,” she said.

“I think that you’re making an ass of yourself,” I said. “I think that he is using you. And I feel sorry that you're letting it happen. When I listen to you talk about how much he loves you, Iwonder what the fuck you've been smoking. I mean, what is wrong with you? Where is your pride and self-respect? When are you going to open your eyes and smell the roses?”

She stared at me with a pained expression.

“If you were my friend, that’s what I would say to you. I told you it wasn’t good,” I said.

“No, it’s good. Keep talking,” she said.

“I don’t understand why you want to have this conversation,” I said.

“I just want to have it. Please continue. What else would you say?”

“I would want to know why you are giving away all of your power to this guy. Why are you waiting on him to choose you. Why don't you choose yourself? Why can't you find a guy who is not married? Why do you stay? What do you want from this relationship and how long are you willing to keep waiting? How long are you going to keep believing his lies? What do you want for yourself? Why don't you demand more?? I would tell you that I am sad that you cannot see the mess that you are in. And I dont believe the lies you're telling yourself to justify your relationship with John.

I am sad for you that you are still wearing the engagement ring he gave you and not see the insanity behind it. And if my friends tell me to mind my business, I would,”

She looked at me as if she were going to cry.

“Jen, I really don’t care to get involve,”

“So what are you saying?” she asked.

“What do you mean what am I saying?”

“Are you saying that I should leave him?”

“That’s your decision,”

“Would you leave him?”

“I would not have gotten involve with him to begin with,”

“How can you know that?”

“I don’t date married men or men with girlfriends. I don’t like deception. And being with you without his wife’s knowledge and consent to be part of it, is deceptive. I think that when we play games, we should all know the rules,”

“You don’t think that he is going to leave his wife, do you?” she asked.

“No. Do you really think he’s going to leave her?” I tossed the question back at her.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“I wish you all the best, Jen. I really do. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I wish you all the best,”

I changed the subject then and had more cake, sweet deliciousness slid down my throat. I set the fork down. That's enough, I tell myself. Delicious, yes, but not very good for me, is it?

We all have choices and sometimes, whether it's having too much cake, dealing with men who are not good for us, dealing with disrespectful children, working a job that we do not like and being miserable, sometimes we just have to say enough and take control of our lives.

I was thinking of the five miles I will have to run to burn off all the calories.

VALIDATION

I ran into Jeff today. He and I met around the same time that I met Nick.

We went on one date that by all accounts was very successful. He was engaging and funny. We had great conversations. We joked with each other. We laughed a lot. We connected. At the end of the night, I agreed to a second date and gave him a kiss with the promise of more to come.

He did not get another. I cancelled our date to go out with Nick who is quite persuasive and fetching and carries an air of confidence and authority that I absolutely love. He is a very bold, complex man who fascinates me. He is aggressive but tender and kind. He calls me on my crap, which is necessary because I tend to push the envelope.

The feeling I had with Nick was thrilling and irresistible and when I took him to bed, all I can say is yes, yes, yes!

He rocked my world. He fucked me all night, repeatedly. I did not know that a man’s cock could rise again so soon after orgasm and here we are a year later and he still gives it to me. He gives IT to me. The man is insatiable.

My plan was to date both men, but I could not stay away from Nick.

When I see Jeff, I went to say hello.

He hugs me tightly.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m great,” I said feeling a bit uneasy. Should I apologize for blowing him off for another man? It’s not like he and I were a couple—not even close. We had one date for Christ sake. All these thoughts and questions flashed through my mind as I stood there beside him.

“What about you? What have you been doing? Are you still in Real Estate?” I asked.
He did not answer my questions.

“Why did you cancel our date?” he asked.

“I got caught up in something,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“What, what?”

“What did you get caught up in?”

Cock. I thought to myself.

“I was dating another guy around the time I met you. Things got serious,” I said.

“You chose him over me?” He said as if he could not believe it.

What am I missing? I wondered. “We had one date,” I said. “You and I were not involve,”

“You kissed me,”

“I kiss lots and lots of men,” I said.

“I thought we had a good time that night,”

“We did,”

“People don’t have a good time and never do it again,”

“It was just bad timing,” I said suddenly glad that I did not choose him. His whining was turning me off.

I caught him looking at my hand. “I’m not married,” I said.

“Good, you promise me a date,”

“I’m still with the guy,” I said.

He stares at me. “I guess you made the right choice then,”

“I did,” I said with absolute certainty.

“Next time, don’t leave a guy holding on for a year,”

“You should have let go a long, long time ago,”

“Well, it was good seeing you, Kitten,”

“Yeah, you too, bye,” I said and walked away.

Validation is a beautiful thing.

ECSTASY

Nick comes home to a woman bedridden with the flu.
My walk in the rain may not have been such a good idea. Nevertheless, I find that being bedridden with the flu is not all bad with a naked horny man beside me showering my feverish, naked body with nibbles and kisses.

“Do you need anything, honey?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes,” I croaked. “More nibbles and kisses, please. More hard cock pressing up against me—more caresses—more of your warm breath on my neck—more playing with my pussy—more of everything,” I said.

I take full advantage of him taking care of me. I fall asleep and wake up and he is still holding me. I sneeze. I sniggle. I cough. He gets closer to me.

“You must really love me,” I said.

“Of course I love you. I also want to put my cock inside you, but I don’t know if you can take it,”

“My pussy is not broken,” I said. “Of course I can take it,”

I roll on my back and spread my legs and he mounts me.

I love it when he mounts me.

I love how easily his cock finds my entrance.

I love how his cock splits and penetrates my flesh.

I love the way my warm, juicy cunt snuggles his cock and forces moans and groans from him.

Sick or not, I love the feel of him drilling in and out of me.

I love how small and helpless I am beneath him—all I can see are my legs open on each side of his gyrating ass. The image fills me with so much lust blood rushes to my clit and I am drowning in ecstasy.

I thrash and scream completely out of my mind.

He did not fuck me hard. He makes love to me. Sweet, tender, passionate love that even though it lasted a good half hour, ended too soon.

I just…I just cannot get enough.

BAZOOKAS

I could not resist the urge to step out into the rain even though I tried to fight it. I felt like a six year old again, but instead of flip-flops and pony-tail, I wore a very expensive pair of knee-high boots, a black knee length skirt with a side slit designed to make one question, is she really a good girl?

For top, I wore a white shirt tucked neatly inside my skirt waist. I paid 150 dollars for the curled hairdo—a complete waste of money if you ask me. I will not do that again.

I was in the city for a business meeting. Two blocks away from my appointment, I found public parking and reluctantly paid the thirty-dollar charge for a day when I would be less than an hour. Fucking ridiculous.

The parking attendant was a shave head hunk who looks quite yummy in dirty overalls. I find myself attracted to him in a dirty animalistic way. I imagined his dirty hands in my curled hair dragging me off somewhere. Is he a good fuck? I wondered.

He stares at me too long for it not to be considered gawking and flashes me a lustful grin while he takes my money. It seems I was not the only one having carnal thoughts.

“Did you bring your umbrella?” he asked. It’s going to storm,”

“I did not,” I said.

“It would be a shame to mess up those curls and ruin your pretty outfit,”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. I like the rain,”

When I got done with my meeting and took the elevator downstairs it was pouring. All around me people are shying away from the rain.

I stare at the rain coming down and got excited. I did not see a dreary dull day. I see fun. Childhood memories comes back to me--I would give anything to be a kid again. I want to step in dirty puddles. I want the sting of raindrops on my skin. I want to get wet.

But what about my expensive shoes? What about my curly hair? I wondered.

I step out in the rain, and what a feeling! If I were not in the city I would take off my shoes and skip. I would catch water on my tongue. I would take off my clothes.

I walk two blocks in the rain. Men honk and waves at me. Some wind down their windows and stare. My perfect curls now falls limp and dripping wet. My clothing clings to my body. I didn't understand all the attention.

I got back to my car and hands the dirty hunk the wet ticket. He gawks at me.

“I told you needed an umbrella,” he said.

“I didn't. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” I said.

He continues to gawk.

“How do you manage to look so beautiful dripping wet? he asked.

I think about my appearance for the first time since stepping out in the rain. Beauty did not come to mind. I’m sure I look a mess.

“I don’t know, but thank you,” I said.

I walk away.

“Miss,” he calls after me. I look back. He is smiling. “Do you know that your bazookas are showing?”

I look down and understand why men were honking their horns and waving at me and why they slowed their cars and wind down their windows…In my childish dance in the rain, my simple white shirt has become transparent. It hugs my bra-less bazookas seductiively. The imprint of my areolas completely visible, my hard nipples strain against the thin cloth as if begging for touch. There... for all the city to see.

LOL. Scandalous. I love it.

RELAX & ENJOY

"Honey, I'm home," he said. "I need to have you,"

"I'm tired of phone sex," I said. "I need your cock in my pussy.
I need to see it—
Suck it—
Sniff it—
Touch it.
I need kisses.
I need your warm body.

He laughed. "Kitten, I’m HOME. And I have to leave again tonight. I have a meeting in the morning,”

I was home studying. Did I mention that I quit my job and now I’m starting on a new and somewhat scary venture? That’s another post.

I have two hours before having to pick up Little C. He knows this.

“I’m on my way,” he said.

I pack away the books.
I was a mess.
I jump in the shower, oiled my skin, brush my hair and when he knocks on my door, I open it looking sensual and inviting and completely fuckable, dressed in matching black and pink lace bra and panties, that was off me in seconds.

He takes me in his arms and kisses me. “You look beautiful,” he said “Take them off,”
And then I stand there naked, my body tingling beneath his fingers as I peel away his clothing to get to his warm flesh.

“I miss you so much,” he whispers against my cheek. I miss your smell. I miss your taste,”
I back up against the kitchen table and he wedges his body between my legs. I unbuckle his belt and drop his pants around his ankles. His cock springs out thick and throbbing and I guide him hastily to my needy pussy. He buries his cock deep inside me with a growl.

“It’s your pussy baby. Fuck your pussy, baby,” I said as his thrusts rock my body.

The table felt hard on my bare ass and his cock pounds me into it,”

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. Give it to me. Give it to me harder,”

“Like this?” He drove into me. I screamed.

“Like this? Like this?”

“Oh fuck!” I yelped trapped between the hardness of the table and the force of his cock driving in and out of me. I tilted my pelvis toward him to escape the hardness beneath me and he drove right back into it.

“Is that how you want it?”

“Oh, yes,” I cried out losing control. I grip his shoulders and bury my face in the crook of his neck. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist and explode all over his cock and as if on cue, he grabs my sore cheeks with both hands and pulls me to him and finished me off.

After our screaming died down and our bodies stopped shaking and shivering, we went to bed. He falls asleep shortly after promising to fuck me again before he leaves.

“Wake me up in one hour,” he said.

I watch him sleep. He looks tired.

He opens his eyes an hour and fifteen minutes later and finds his cock between my blow-job lips. I lick the delicious taste of his cum and my juice from him.

“Relax and enjoy,” I told him when he tries to get up. “All I want is your stiff cock. I will take care of the rest,”

I stroke his cock like I have no other. I deep throat him, and with my jaws locked tight around him, it appears there is no movement but inside my tongue is working magic. I wait for the darkness in his eyes, followed by the gasp and at that precise moment slid one finger in his ass and forces him to lose control to me.

He deserves nothing less.

A man who takes a three hour flight to give me cock deserves nothing less.

A man, who says no other pussy but yours will do, deserves nothing less.

POWERFUL

There are things I would like to change about my life but which I cannot do a damn thing about. And because I cannot do anything about them I have learned to accept them. I don't lose sleep over them. I don't get depressed. I don't whine. I just accept them.

I also know that I have control over a lot of things. That control comes with me knowing who I am and what I want. If I don’t like my job, I have the power to change it. If I’m in a relationship that’s not working for me, I have the power to change it, and I do.

Big C picked up Little C this morning to take him to school. I handed him his school bag as well as the bag with Little C’s martial art clothes. I will not see my little man again until tomorrow. I need the break, but I’m always sad watching him leave especially these days. I love him so much. He’s still sweet. He still climbs on my lap. He still wants to hear a bedtime story. He still throws his little arms around me and say ‘I love you mommy,’ Sometimes I can’t stop looking at him. There’s so much to see.

“I want to move back to NY,” Big C said to me. “When are you going to leave what’s-his-name so that we can move?”

I’ve been asked this question a hundred times.

I look at him and see the madness in the hollowness of his eyes and the blue bags beneath them from sleepless nights, some I’m sure was racked with nightmares. He had a new haircut that he clearly did himself.

“I’m not moving and I’m not leaving my Nick,” I said.

“YOUR Nick?” he scoffed. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you really think it’s going to work out with YOUR Nick? If you don’t come to your senses and soon, I’m going to take custody of little C and move without you. I’m going to ruin your life. I’m going to do this to you, and I’m going to do that to you,”

I stared at his face with his hollow blood shot eyes and his lips that I once thought sexy as he threw threats out the window at me. And all I could think about is thank god my prayers weren’t answered five years ago when I was praying for a life with this man. It felt like the end of the world then, but thank goodness for lord, I knew not what I was praying for.

Thank you for never being able to commit to me no matter how badly you claimed you wanted me. Thank you for lying and cheating on me and trying to kill me. Thanks for stalking me and driving away some really good men, you crazy fuck.

I stood there until he stopped spewing his meaningless threats. I could see his frustration at not having any effect on me. He needs my tears to feel good about himself. He needs my unhappiness. He needs me weak and on my knees at his mercy. Yet I stand there strong and beautiful in the early morning sunshine not giving a shit about anything he was saying.

I am not the same woman I was five years ago. I’m the powerful one now. His ugliness has made me powerful. He dragged me into court so many times I know the drill. Nothing will happen. He has nothing on me.

I’ve already spent thousand upon thousands of my savings fighting him for custody that he didn’t want.
Now I don't spend a penny.

He’s already ruined a once flourishing career for me.
I created another.

He thought that I would never leave him.
I left him.

Yes, HE made me powerful. And he cannot break me.

I waved goodbye to little C who was sitting in the backseat listening and I felt deep, deep sadness. This is one of those things that I cannot change.

I have come to realize over these past four years since I started this blog that we don’t always want what we think we want. That man that we want so badly right now and who we would sell our souls to have, may not be the one. Isn’t that something?

I’ve had a lot of lovers in my quest for ‘the one’. My search may be over and it may not be over. That I don't know. But I trust that I have the ability to recognize when it’s time to let go for . That’s why my friends call me a serial dater.

That’s a label that I accept with great pride.

LIKE A SAVAGE

“What are you wearing?” Nick asked.

“Nothing,” I purred sexily.

I was wearing one of his scrub pants with a gray tank top. The old pair of reading glasses that I refuse to update sat comfortably on the bride of my nose. My hair was piled hurriedly and carelessly on my head, held in place by a slender blue rubber band.

“Are you in bed with your legs spread for me?”

“Yes,” I lied seductively.

I was in my office reviewing old policies that I needed to update.

“I have a big throbbing cock for you,”

“Your horny whore wants to suck it,” I said.

He chuckled.

“I’m going to fuck you raw,”

I moaned. My voice grew husky with lust. I set aside the pile of papers. I pulled off his scrub pants and my
thong in one fluid move and dropped them on the floor. Horny juice floods my thighs.

“I love it when you fuck me raw,” I drawled.

“I’m going to spank you,”

“Make it hurt, baby,”

“I’m going to flood your pussy with my cum,"

“Don’t waste a drop,” I said.

I leaned back in the black leather chair my legs spread atop my beautiful antique desk and I abused my wet, sensitive cunt.

How is it that the words I’m going to fuck you raw could send instant blood flow to my clit? Could set my mind on fire and lust raging inside me?

I close my eyes and picture the images he was feeding me. I jerk and shiver with every touch.

He fucked me like a savage. His throbbing cock splits apart my pussy lips and got lost between them—In and out went his throbbing cock. In and out.

Can a man pull himself out of the arms of desire and lust? He could, but he will not want to and more often than not, he will lose the fight. He will keep on fucking until he’s satiated.

I heard him scream.

I imagined him in the hotel room sprawled upon the white sheets. His cock lay flaccid against his leg and his thighs moist and shining.