Trilogy III - Hope
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Romantic, Cheating, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Adrian gets herself into a long term affair with a married man. Will she ever get him all to herself?
I screamed as my orgasm, the first in I couldn't remember how long, finally arrived, simultaneously with the throbbing of Brad's cock as it spat string after string of that creamy pearly cum deep inside me. I wrapped legs and arms around him and held him tightly.
"Stay inside me, honey, don't pull out."
"You know I never just pull out, baby; I always stay inside you."
"I know, I know, but I forgot; it's been so fucking long. You're the only guy who doesn't hop out of bed and go pee before I finish cumming."
"It's been almost a year."
"Thirteen months, but who's counting?"
And what is wrong with him? There's something strange that I can't put my finger on.
"I still love you, Adrian."
Sure you do, you bastard. You live twenty minutes away, your office is only ten minutes away and I haven't seen you in a fucking year. What does she look like, that new cunt you've got to be fucking? Does she take it up the ass?
"Oh, Brad, Brad, I want to show you a letter I wrote to you last year."
"I didn't get any letter from you."
"Of course not, dummy. Should I have sent it to your office, so your secretary could open it or to your home for your wife to read? Or maybe just printed it in the newspaper?"
He had enough sense not to answer that question. When his cock finally began to shrivel, oh jeez, how does he stay so hard for so long, I helped him slide out of me, bent to lick him dry and then went to my dresser to dig out my collection of unsent love notes. The one I wanted was right on top. I skimmed it as I felt his love juice oozing out of me, seeping down, reminding me of that old childhood taunt, 'the best part of you ran down your mother's leg'.
"Read this, Brad."
His eyes flashed over the words, absorbing them with the speed of a life insurance agent, which he is, examining a medical report.
"No, read it out loud, Brad. I want us both to hear it together."
He looked at me questioningly but said nothing. He was laying there on his back, his flaccid but still shiny cock resting tantalizingly on one leg, inviting me to gobble it up, but I wanted to keep my eyes on his face as he read the words.
"My darling Brad,
"Well, here's another letter I'll never mail, just something to add to my loose leaf collection of thoughts and memories, my scrapbook that no one will ever see, unless maybe Charlotte.
"How long has it been since that evening when I walked into the insurance class? What the hell, I was newly divorced, raising two kids and I needed more money. My teaching salary was shit; I had been planning to move to New York or California, where they value teachers and pay them decently, but then I never would have met you. Funny how fluky things change your life, like that old Robert Frost poem:
'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.'
"Twenty empty chairs when I walked in. And how come I chose to sit in the front row? No one sits in the front row; they're afraid of being called on. Then you walked in, with your baby faced grin, threw your briefcase on the front desk and welcomed us all. I was wet just sitting there, and then I saw you staring at my tits, then tearing your eyes away to look at the rest of the class, only your eyes kept coming back to my twin babies. I wondered if the rest of the class noticed. I felt good, special, because my tits have always attracted guys' attention.
"Five beautiful evenings of listening to your stories and then going home to masturbate. That was before the kids grew up and moved out, before I got up the nerve to use a vibrator. Can you imagine what Charlotte and Donny would have said if they heard that thing buzzing from my room?
"Then six months later you walked into that office where I was working for Nancy and Lilly and on the way out you asked me to lunch. And I remember that you looked at my tits before you looked at my face, and I knew, I just KNEW, that you were going to hit on me over lunch. I didn't know then what I would say, but by the time they brought the coffee, I was ready to jump your bones right there.
"OK, I forgive you for that sleazy motel. That day I wanted to fuck you so badly that I would have been willing to do it in the back seat of your car, in broad daylight. Ha! That's something we never did; do you think we might someday do it?
"And when you couldn't keep it hard that day, after you took care of me, when you had to jerk yourself off, I felt so proud that you would trust me with that personal knowledge. I've never told anyone about that, not even Allison, who knows everything about me and you. (Charlotte, if you find this letter after I'm dead, make believe that you didn't see this paragraph.)
Jeez, he's blushing.
"That was the day you asked me to go to Atlanta with you for that conference. Do you remember, it was right after you finally shot your cum all over my stomach, that sweet juice running down toward my pussy. When I told Nancy that I needed three days off, she knew immediately what we had planned, and she reamed me a new asshole. She told me all about that blonde cunt she had seen you holding hands with in the Italian restaurant. That bitch, she didn't want anyone to fuck me except her, plus Lilly of course. I must admit she tasted pretty good, but that's for a different letter.
"She also told me that you had tried to get into her pants, and she was sure that it wasn't because you were trying to fuck a lesbian, it was because you didn't even realize that she was gay. Oh, you poor man.
Son of a bitch, he's blushing again.
"But I went anyway, and we fucked our brains out. By that time, you weren't so nervous, and old General Peter was able to stay hard enough for you to cum inside me. Oh Brad my darling, I can still feel that beautiful sperm sloshing around inside me.
"Of course, that same trip was when I first swallowed your cum, something I never, ever did for anyone before. And now you've made me a fucking cum addict. I love that taste, and can't get enough of it. From you, anyway.
"Brad, Brad, Brad, tell me why I'm having an affair with a married man when I threw my husband out the very first time I caught him fucking with another woman. Eating her pussy, to be more precise, on my fucking bed.
"Oh, my darling, I've long since given up my fantasy of spending the rest of my life with you, but whenever I see you, it always comes back. Well, maybe I haven't truly reconciled myself.
Son of a bitch; are those tears?
"OK, Brad, put the letter down and I'll give you the birthday present you've been wanting all these years."
"You're going to get to fuck me in the ass."
"I thought you didn't like that."
I gave him the hardest stare I was capable of.
"You don't really think that this wet cunt has been sitting here all alone pining for you while you've been fucking everything in sight, do you, my dear man?"
My sexual problems all started with the abuse by Daddy. No, I don't mean that he fucked me or anything like that. He never touched me, he was too straight-laced for that, and I certainly never fantasized about him in that way. The abuse from him was all mental; all he ever did was criticize me. About everything. It was always 'your brother this, your brother that.' Don't misunderstand; I love my brother, but that is in spite of my Daddy, not because of him. He even criticized my posture. He insisted that I walk ram-rod straight. For a while I thought that he might just want to see my tits sticking out but I know it wasn't that. On the other hand, that has caused my chest to become my main attraction, and I guess I should be thankful for that.
And maybe that was what caused me to pick the husband that I did. Richie too was always critical about something I said or did, or how I dressed, or anything. He even complained about sex; he could never get me to cum, I never had an orgasm until I bought that vibrator after the kids left the nest. And he was always bitching that I wouldn't let him cum in my mouth. I think I got that from my mother, who told me once that my father never even tried to cum in her mouth. Who knows, maybe he had a girlfriend somewhere. Or maybe it was a manifestation of being so straight-laced.
But Richie was a good father, and he did have a girlfriend somewhere. Next door to be exact, not that it was obvious until that one awful day. I was already teaching and one morning, the school had a bomb threat and they evacuated the building. After a while, they decided to send all the kids home. I thought about going shopping and decided to go home first to change my clothing.
When I got to the house, I heard a female moan and thought that Charlotte had come home sick from school. I went right to her room but it was empty. Then I heard the moaning again and I knew right away what it was, what it had to be. I felt the blood run out of my face, I shivered with an unseasonable chill and at the same time, I began to perspire. And held my breath. And began to slink down the hall.
I thought, why the fuck am I slinking, I'm not doing anything wrong, but I kept quiet. The door was mostly open; they weren't expecting anyone at that hour of the day. The first things I saw were a bra and panties on the floor alongside the bed, and I knew they weren't mine. Hell, the bra was too skimpy to hold up my beauties.
Then I saw some red-headed cunt spread-eagled on the bed, MY bed, with her legs hanging over the foot of the bed. And Richie, bare ass naked, on his knees on the floor, his head buried in her snatch, munching away, his cock, shiny with mixed fluids, hanging down between his legs.
That fucker never eats me like that. All he ever does is hump me like a fucking missionary.
I'm embarrassed to say that my first reaction was not anger, which I knew it should have been. No, my first thought was that the scene was hot as hell, and my pussy began to drool, so much that I had to begin rubbing it. And I kept rubbing until I realized that I might make a big wet spot on the front of my slacks.
I couldn't see the cunt's face and I didn't know who she was until I heard her moan, "Richie, Richie, Richie." Then I knew, but it didn't matter; she wasn't much of a friend, more just a neighbor. Still, I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. I was shaking but I watched silently, maybe in awe, as he climbed on the bed and knee-walked up to her face, sticking his cock into her mouth. Her honey pot was still spread wide open and I could see some leftover cum that Richie hadn't gotten out of her.
I started rubbing myself again, trying uselessly to make myself cum. I didn't think about wet spots until I actually felt it on my slacks. That sort of woke me up, but I decided that screaming was unnecessary. I spoke barely loud enough for them to hear me.
"Don't forget to change the sheets." I sensed two heads spinning toward me but I was already walking down the hall.
"Adrian." I heard him yell it down the hall.
"Fuck you, Richie. I'll be back by three and you'd better be packed and gone by then."
I went to the mall and started making phone calls. The first one was to a lawyer we knew from neighborhood parties.
"No, Adrian, I won't see you today. Yes, I have time, but why waste your time and pay me good money without waiting a week to see if you really want to go through with it."
"But I'm sure of it."
"Trust me. You have no idea how many women cancel after making that first appointment, after they've had a chance to think over all the ramifications."
He was right, of course, but I didn't change my mind. We started negotiations, spending my money like it was water, until one day about three months later; we were reviewing the final divorce documents.
"You know, Adrian, Richie must be a fool to let you get away."
Holy shit, is this the beginning of the proposition that all my friends tell me about, the matrimonial lawyer who wants to fuck his female clients because they're all so vulnerable?
Of course it was, and later I thought about reporting him to the Bar Association, only by then I was just so numb. But that day I was so depressed, so needy, feeling so unloved, really just wanting a cock so badly, that I let myself believe that he really found me attractive. Not that I'm so bad looking, thank you, but to pricks like that, I realized finally that I was just a notch in his belt.
And so we continued to discuss the financial settlement until his secretary left for the day. Then he got up and locked the office door. When he came back, he passed behind me and paused, finally putting his hands on my shoulders and beginning to massage them. My muscles tightened and immediately relaxed. In one instant, I hated him, one of those lawyers who tries to fuck every woman going through a divorce, and at the same time I needed him so badly. Not my body; I masturbated enough for that. No, it was my mind that needed him, to reassure me that I could still give a man pleasure.
When I didn't reject him, when I instead leaned back with a sigh, his hands moved down, after what to him must have been a painfully suitable delay, and began to caress my tits, his fingers feathering the nipples that pushed out with desire to highlight my blouse. I lifted his left hand off me, brought it to my face to gaze pointedly at the wedding ring he wore, and then returned his fingers to my outstretched nipple.
Soft fingers expertly opened the buttons in front of my blouse.
You bastard, you do that to all of us, don't you?
I leaned forward and his hands reached behind me to unhook my bra. Though it was still on me, there was enough space for his hands to caress those globes that catch a man's eye. I reached back to fondle his package and he moved to the side to make that task easier. I looked down at his hands pawing me so gently, noticing his watch.
"Tony, you're not going to put this afternoon on your time sheets, are you?"
His didn't miss a beat. "My secretary does my billing. What am I going to tell her?"
"Tell her you wanted to get laid and the lady didn't want to give it away for nothing."
Don't ask me why I said that, it just popped into my head. Right alongside the thought that I wanted to get laid but I sure as hell wasn't about to pay a high-priced lawyer for the privilege.
No, I didn't feel like a whore, just like someone who didn't want to be cheated.
I took his silence for acceptance of the fact that I wouldn't pay the bill if he tried to charge for that afternoon, and would probably cause him a lot of grief to boot.
He came around in front of me, his hands weighing my bodacious tatas. I unzipped his slacks and reached in, fumbling through his under shorts until I felt his hard and warm cock, fighting its way through to daylight. When it was out, a little drop of pre-cum glistening at his third eye, he pressed it against my lips. I shook my head.
"I don't suck, Tony; I fuck."
He gave me a look like, whatever happened to that demure Adrian who was such a lady?
I got myself topless, kicked off my shoes and went over to the couch against the far wall. I stretched out on it, my feet on the leather and my knees up in the air, so that my skirt fell up to my waist, exposing a chaste pair of black panties, nothing sexy. Unless you're a guy with his cock out and ready, and then anything is sexy. Tony came over and lifted my ass so that he could pull off the panties.
Shit, he wants to fuck me with my skirt still on. What the hell, once I started talking money with him, I became nothing but a whore.
He stripped off everything below the waist, as well as his tie, but he kept his shirt on. Now that really made me feel like a whore. He knelt on the couch by my feet and used one hand to spread my legs.
"Put on a raincoat, Tony."
He looked at me as though he wanted to argue the point, until he realized that without a gun, there was no way he could win the argument. He walked back to his desk and I stared at a nice tight ass, nothing flabby like my soon to be ex. And when he turned around after fishing in a had in months, the idea of sucking it became appealing.
Ask me again, Tony, and I'll blow you. Bareback!
But he didn't ask. He came over to me and dropped the foil wrapper onto my stomach.
Ah, it's lubricated.
I reached out to pull him close to me, holding the circumcised cock by gripping the ridge behind the crown. I opened the rubber with one hand and my teeth. I've seen porn films where the slut puts the condom in her mouth and rolls it with her lips and tongue onto the guy's cock, but I've never had to learn that trick. Richie and I usually fucked raw, my fertile period being quite regular and our fucking of late more irregular anyway. When we needed a rubber, he always put it on himself.
As I began to roll the condom onto Tony's cock, his hand reached down and he began to insert a finger into my snatch, following up with a thumb to diddle my clit. My breathing became labored and my eyes lost their focus. That was it for the foreplay, though; once the condom was on, my faithful attorney used one hand to spread my labia and just shoved his cock in. Although I was for the most part moist enough, the surprise of his entry made me wince and yelp.
Undeterred, he stretched his body over mine and began to stroke rapidly. His head was up, looking at the wall behind my head; his mouth was too far away for any sort of kiss, which was clearly not something that he wanted to waste any time on.
Ten hard strokes, a grunt and then the throb of his cum flooding into the head of the condom. I hadn't come even close to enjoying that fuck. And as soon as the spurting stopped, he was off me, walking nakedly toward the private bathroom in the office. After a slight delay to remove the rubber, I heard a gentle splash as he threw it into the toilet, followed by the steady stream of his piss, the rustle of paper as he wiped off his cock, and then the flush that brought me back to reality.
He came out of the bathroom with his cock shriveled, only to find me still on the couch, legs still spread wide open, pink labia glistening from my own lubrication. I was sure that he would tell me to get off my ass and put my clothing on; his mouth was open to say something like that. Instead, he walked past me to his desk, picked up some papers and looked my way.
"I'll have these papers filed first thing in the morning."
He'd had his orgasm; I was dismissed.
"Nice job, Adrian. You had him staring at your tits and gazing at that pretty face of yours for two hours. Whenever I mentioned how much the premiums would be, he just nodded. It's the biggest policy we've sold in months, and the easiest. How about dinner and a couple of drinks? My expense account."
After I had finished the course, the company hooked me up with Nancy and Lilly. Nancy was a dynamo saleswoman and she taught me a hell of a lot; Lilly handled the details and the numbers and was kind of dull. The two of them made no effort to hide, from anyone, including top management, that they were a couple. Nancy was good looking enough and well built enough so that she attracted a lot of attention from men, but she was an unabashed carpet muncher.
We were by then a team of three, although my share of the split was still the smallest. And the team only existed in the office. After hours, my recreation time was spent with men, not women.
"Sounds great. How about Italian?" I had ignored the remark about 'pretty face'; it was just a meaningless throw away line.
The meal was great, especially the full bottle of Chianti we killed and then the Sambucca for dessert. The conversation was about insurance, tricks of the trade, sticking out boobs when there was no wife at the sales pitch, that sort of stuff, and also, strangely enough, about men. Nancy had not grown up as a lesbian, had in fact done more than her share of guys in high school and college, and had a whole routine on how to make a man cum quickly even when he was trying to slow it down.
I never guessed that she would hit on me before the waiter brought the check; I just never saw it coming.
"You've had a lot to drink tonight, Adrian. Why don't you stay at my place tonight?"
Even as I heard the words, had just started to absorb their implication, not even close to wanting to go to bed with her, my subconscious took over and began to make plans.
"Where is Lilly this evening?"
"She's baby-sitting for her daughter; she won't be home until the day after tomorrow."
Does she really think my face is pretty? How long is it since I've gotten laid? Will she be able to make me cum? I've only eaten pussy that one time, in college; I don't even remember what it tastes like. Why me, Nancy? Why now? Are you so horny?"
"I'd hate to invade someone else's turf."
"She knows what I do when she's not around."
"But I'm not too drunk to drive."
"I know. So what?"
"I don't even have a nightgown."
"Stop the bullshit; I expect we'll sleep naked."
I still hesitated. She read my mind, or thought she did.
"Is this your first time?"
I shook my head, noticing the form of the question. She was assuming that I would give in; I guess that's what made her a good saleswoman.
"Once, in college, with my roommate."
"That was a girl; you need a woman now."
The kids were old enough to stay home alone. Well, maybe not alone individually, but alone together, with Charlotte watching Donny. All it required was a phone call, with the obvious excuse that I'd had too much to drink and would be at Nancy's for the night; they had the number.
What am I doing? Do I really need it that badly? Why don't I just let one of the guys in the office do it? Enough of them try. Oh shit, I hate men, and Nancy is a lot sexier than my roommate was. Damn, I'm soaking; I guess I really want it. Did Charlotte really believe my story? She's met Nancy; she knows Nancy is a lesbian. Oh shit.
In retrospect, I would have expected that the ride back to Nancy's place would have been in silence. On the contrary, we gabbed like magpies, mostly office gossip, each of us trying to sublimate the knowledge of what was soon to happen, though with Nancy, it was routine to be making love with a woman.
At her house, I walked behind her toward the front door, paying close attention to that swaying ass. She was wearing a tight skirt, part of a mannish business suit. Her ass was enough to round out the rear, but not so large as to detract from a nice figure.
I'd love to stick my tongue in there. Oh no, you wouldn't. Yes I would. But you don't do asses. So what?
She unlocked the door and then stepped aside so that I could enter first. After a few steps into the foyer, I stopped, admiring anew the home I had seen before. Behind me, I heard the door close and then felt her body press against my back, her hands wrapping around me and massaging my chest. I leaned back into her and she began to run a string of tiny kisses up and down the back of my neck.
I sighed and turned around. Nancy's hand pulled the back of my head so that our lips met, fiercely, then gently. My eyes were closed, as I'm sure hers were also. Our tongues communicated, flicking softly out toward each other, hinting at the raging sex we both envisioned. She was taller than me and her lips moved up to kiss my eyelids. I sighed again and opened them. Hers opened a second after mine.
I tried to describe to myself what I was seeing in those bright blue eyes.
What is it? Surely not love; we've never even kissed, kissed for real I mean, before this very second. But it's certainly much more than pure lust, though there is some of that. And it's not just strong like, yet there is some of that also. No, it looks like she needs me at this moment, not me Adrian, but me any willing woman. Lucky for her that I'm willing. She's lonely because Lilly is not here with her, and she can't go to bed alone. Don't worry, Nancy, I'm here for you tonight. Damn, she looks good enough to eat. I guess I will.
So I took her hand and began to lead her toward her own bedroom.
"A glass of wine, Adrian?"
"I don't need it. I don't think you do either."
By the time we got to her bedroom, she was calm enough to know that I needed hangers for my clothing if I was going to spend the night. Business suits may be the best thing for selling insurance but not if they've been crumpled up on someone's floor all night. And so the undressing was not with the heated passion of a couple about to couple, but rather with the serene comfort of marriage. She did not need my hands to unhook her bra nor to pull down her panties; she wore bikinis while mine were more chaste. After all, I hadn't expected to remove my own underwear anywhere but in my own bedroom.
But while my hands were busy with my own buttons and hooks, my eyes were all over Nancy's body. Her tits were a bit smaller than mine, but her nipples at attention bested my little babies. Her pussy was free of hair, smoother than a baby's ass, if you will.
Damn, those pussy lips of hers are really dripping.
"How long have you been shaving down there, Edie?"
"Ever since I met Lilly. She likes to eat a bald pussy and my nose and tongue love to fight their way through a wet bush, so we're both happy. What do you have under those panties?"
"Lucky you; I've got my carpet neatly trimmed, but there's enough for you to have fun with. I hope you don't mind that it's kind of damp down there. Well, not really damp; more like soaking wet."
"Yum yum. And you're a natural blonde too."
We approached the bed from opposite sides and met in the middle. Yet we didn't kiss, didn't fondle or caress; we just lay there, holding each other, warming our bodies but nothing else. Except staring into each other's eyes, communication wordlessly, smiling with our own surely identical thoughts. Each of us had a leg between the other's two, thigh against pussy, but motionless for many minutes, soft breathing being the only sound.
Finally, the kiss. That was all for the moment. Our tongues melted together and so did our bodies, but no fingering, no rubbing, the lightest touch of hands on asses. But the tension could not last forever, and soon Nancy's body rolled atop mine and her mouth sought my nipples.
Oh jeez, I love to have my nipples sucked.
"Suck them, Nancy; don't stop."
She continued to nurse on me as my children had done years earlier, but the sensation was different. Where I was their mother and my nipples were used to feed them, and that fucking bastard Richie as well, Nancy was my lover, at least for the night. With my milk long gone, the sucking was for pleasure, hers and mine.
As she fed on my chest, I reached down to her sopping fuck canal and inserted two fingers, leaving my thumb outside to diddle her little girl cock peeking out from under its hood. Her breathing shortened and she had to leave my tits, bringing her face back to mine as her thighs clamped my hand inside her.
I had a silent battle in my mind as to which of us would be first to go down on the other; no doubt, Nancy was thinking the same thing. Did the fact that she was already fastened to one of my nipples mean that she was the aggressor and would go first, or did it mean that it was my turn to take the next step? Or did the uncertainty mean that we should go to Plan B, meaning neither one would be first, that we should start at the number after sixty-eight? But the bottom line was that Nancy was on top of me, and so she would likely get to make the decision for the two of us.
I pulled her mouth off my tits, oh so reluctantly, and pulled her face to mine. My tongue dove into her mouth, searching every corner, dawdling over each tooth as though I was preparing a dental chart of her mouth, my mission being somewhat thwarted by Nancy's tongue doing the same work for my own chart. I sucked down her saliva like I was one of those tubes the Hygienist uses when the dentist is spraying water in your mouth.
She ultimately grew tired of this game and began to slide down my body, her lips butterfly kissing me as she went, dallying on each tit and my belly button. When she got to my pubic hair, she began to lightly nip at it with her teeth. I envisioned her saying, 'She loves me, she loves me not, ' as if she were pulling petals off a daisy. I hadn't been so excited in years. But the moment she first licked at my slit, I put a hand on her head to stop her.
"Swing around, Nancy; let's eat each other at the same time."
She took absolutely no convincing, crawling around sideways on the bed without removing her lips from my pussy. As soon as she was over me properly, she rolled to the side, so that neither of us was on top. Fastened to each other mouth to cunt, cunt to mouth, we rested before eating.
I inhaled the fragrance of her loins. My memory of my roommate having long since faded, the only comparison I could make was with the aroma of my own fingers after I masturbated, and that couldn't come close to the delightful scent rising from between Nancy's legs.
"Do you like the way I smell, Adrian?"
"You smell good enough to eat, Nancy. How about me? Do I smell better than Lilly?"
"No, but I'm prejudiced. Lilly I love, you I just lust for."
"Well, quit lusting and start licking."
As the speaking drifted off into moaning and sighing, and the soft sucking of lips on clits, I stepped outside my body to look at the scene.
This must be every man's dream, to watch two pretty good looking chicks munching on each other, one pussy bald and the other trimmed, labia glistening with internal moisture and external tonguing. Would that turn you on, Richie, you fucking bastard? Would you like to watch this, Tony, you slimy pig? How about you, Brad? Brad??? What the fuck is Brad doing in this picture? I hardly know him. Except to picture his face while I masturbate. Brad, Brad...
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Nancy, I was dreaming about someone."
"Someone besides me?" She was laughing as she said it.
"Maybe I'll tell you some day."
Back to the work at hand, we licked, we sucked, we quietly slurped the lubrication from each other's pussies. I pulled Nancy's cunt toward me by grabbing her tight ass cheeks. One of my fingers slipped into the crack of her ass; for a fleeting second, I thought of exploring her asshole, for the second time that evening, but pulled my hand away. She came in a series of mini-orgasms, all so quiet that I could only tell by the shivering of her loins, until we fell apart with exhaustion.
I fell asleep in her arms, kissing her, wondering, wondering, if I would ever want a man again. Thinking again about Brad, I was pretty sure that I would.