Three years ago we saw each other quite regularly but one thing and another stood in the way until two years ago we stopped. Our paths crossed every few months at events and we always emailed, but he’s got so many attractive qualities that he never had trouble keeping his dance card filled.
Mine was filled too — until early this summer when suddenly it wasn’t. After a suitable period of mourning (which will end any day now, I’m sure) I invited him over for euphemistic foot massages. Before, he’d touched me as gently as though he thought I’d shatter, but even that first night it was clear that something had changed. With no warning he brought out the slapping, the dick-over-the-lips-rubbing, the hair-pulling, the demanding, the dirty-talking.
“Where did all this come from,” I thought of asking, but with a cock half down my throat it was hard to speak. Or even think.
I have to wonder (because it’s not enough just to enjoy a thing; it also must be dispatched, dissected, hide tanned, organs preserved in formaldehyde, head mounted upon the wall) if he’s altered his approach in these past two years or have I? Did another girl bring out this forcefulness1? Did some left-over shyness on my part evaporate?
I’d ponder more on this topic but I’m late for a date — one that has, every time it’s crossed my mind today, caused me to wiggle lasciviously in my seat.
And I still need to pack my rope.
- and if so, can I thank her? [↩]
Make me think of something straight out of a porno scene. Could it be that is where he got the idea and desired you so much, and felt safe enough acting this out with you?