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What Are We

December 8, 2019

 

 Last night's dream. I'm not yet sure if I will turn it into a full blown

Embrace The Wild Fantasy, or use it in another story.

It contains mild, for me, adult content. 

 

 

 

 

 

ADULT CONTENT       

 

ADULT CONTENT       

 

ADULT CONTENT 

 

 

                Another night. Her on the couch, me on the chair. The television plays in the background. Neither one of us pay it much attention. Her on her phone, me reading an e-book. Every now and then, the laugh track catches our attention.

 

                The blanket falls to the side – her leg exposed. We have not been intimate in, I can’t remember how many years. For some reason, we continue to live together. Sometimes we are strangers, other times roommates, and yet other times, friends.

 

                Right now, her leg has my full attention. I haven’t looked at her in that way in a long time. Pulsing blood flows through my body. Filling a desire for you that has long been forgotten. I turn my attention back to the television – there is no point.

 

                She shifts position, to the side, back to me she turns. Her eye-catching ass -- exposed. The skin I have not seen, not touched, is now in full view. The television screen brightens, I catch a glimpse of her pussy.

 

                “What, exactly are we?”

                She gives me a grunt, “I’m tired.”

 

                I am ready to let it go, but... “I don’t care. What are we?”

                She increases the volume on the set.

 

                I stand up. Walk to it and hit the power button. The noise and picture fade. I turn on the light.

 

                She pulls the blanket over her head. “I’m tired. It is been a long day.”

                “I have had a long day. But it has been a longer several years.” Again, I ask, “What are we?”

 

                She pulls the blanket from her face. “What do you mean?”

 

                I have her attention. We have not had this conversation. I have been encouraged by others to have it, but I have been reluctant.

 

                “We have been together for almost ten years, I’m not even sure -- Are we still a couple?”

 

                Her eyes slowly move to the side, upward and back down the other. Breath, in a long slow exhale, escapes her mouth. Without words, she tells me in no uncertain terms ‘We are not having this conversation.’

 

                “Yes, we are!”

                “Yes, we are what? I didn’t say anything.”

 

                My heavy footfalls vibrate the hardwood floors as I trod back and forth. “I know that sigh, and the neighbors heard your eyes roll. We are having this conversation.”

 

                She rolls to her back and sits up. Shirt rides up, and I get more than a quick glance of a well-groomed pussy peaking at me. It tells me an answer without having to ask a question.

 

           

 

     “No, we are not.” She squeezes past me, her breast rubbing against my arm as she walks into the next room. The shirt hangs on her hip, a bare ass cheek rises and falls as each step causes muscles to flex. The scent of sex rises and tickles my nose.

 

      I put my hands on her waist. I pull her close. My mouth to her ear. Softly, “I still love you.”

 

     Body tenses under my touch, she moves nearer to me, rubs against me – I rub back.

 

                My mouth moves to her neck. Small bites of flesh. I tug at skin.

 

                A moan.

                A sigh.

 

                She turns to me. Shirt swiftly removed overhead, her body exposed.

 

                Buttons fly as she rips at my shirt. Her breasts press against my chest. Her breath warms my neck. Her hands work their way down – pants fall at ankles. I feel the heat of her succulent snatch against my thigh. Moisture slicks my flesh.

 

                I push her to the couch. I kneel before her – the small, fine line of hair guides my tongue to its landing.

 

Panting.            
Screaming.

 

                It is not long before her come covers my chin.

 

                “It is obvious you have cheated.”

                She does not deny.

 

                “I don’t care.”

                She is hurt.

 

                “How many?”

                She looks away.

 

                “Please tell me.”

                “Three.”

 

                “All this time?”

                “The last several weeks.”

 

                I smile. “Do they know?”

 

                She turns on the t.v., grabs her phone, syncs it to the set and opens a video. On the ground, kneeling, she is surrounded by three men. In her mouth and in her hands, she is working them over.  

 

Soon, she is on her back.

Each rams into her.

Her voice is demanding, “Fuck me, fuck me harder!”

 

                The passionate vixen I once knew so well, on the big screen, is in full form. Her appetite, her desire, her actions unbridled. As one comes inside of her, another takes his place. When the last is complete, the video zooms in – the come of the three bubbles from within.

 

                “When was this?”

                “This morning.”

 

       I look into her eyes.
      Fire fills the emerald color.

 

              

 

        “Do you want me to fuck you?”

 

                She leans back on the couch. Her legs open. A sheen reflects the light. She switches to camera mode.

 

            We embrace the wild --- our image projects back to us.

 

 

 

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