Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Sometimes, I forget that this wasn’t my original face or my real body. I got lost in the way he paid homage to my tits, those glorious things that had caught him in the first place. I had to attract him in some way to get him into my pussy trap, which was bound to do the rest.
Those first few times we met in hotel rooms after sneaking away from the job were like magic. I came hard and long on his cock without having to take myself away somewhere in my head. His tongue used to make me cream so that by the time he slid his cock in me, I was dripping wet.
The fuck itself was superb, but it was thoughts of his poor washed-up wife at home taking care of this man’s kids and home while he was busy fucking hot young pussy around the corner from his job. And those nights he’d fuck me on his desk, I’d cum hard at the thought of her home waiting with a stomach full of worry because he was hours late getting home. That was the power of my pussy. I could get a once stalwart family man to say fuck it to dinner with the wife and kids for some tight new pussy.
The high I got from that was not to be believed because I had seen her in person by then. I bet she never had to pay to have her nose done or her eyes tucked so that the permanent bags she’d had since childhood went away. Or had to have her chest filled with a life-threatening substance just so she could get a chance at landing a decent man or at least one worth having.
So, knowing that with all her perfections, I had still stolen her man made sex that much more intense for me. I rode that high for the longest time, looking forward to her spiraling and becoming a shell of who she once was, never to recover again. I know for a fact that every woman whose man I took will spend the rest of her life worrying about it happening to her again, and that was the best high of all.
But now things had changed. Now, I was the one on the downward slope without brakes. I was the one stalking her and them together, something she never did. I was the one making phone calls and stalking her social media every day. I was the one pacing the floor at night, biting my nails down to nubs with stomach pains that stemmed from fear.
Fear that I was going to lose to her. Fear that the dreams I had woven in my head weren’t going to become reality. I was terrified that I had fallen in love for the first time and was going to lose my lover.
Too many things came too late, and I was left holding nothing at all. It made me crazy I admit, that night that I’d spied on them over the fence. This was long after he’d admitted to wanting her back, but I’d still held out hope that I could turn things around.
I would’ve done anything, promised everything, and still, it wasn’t enough. All he wanted was her and their kids. To rebuild the life they once had and he didn’t even have the decency to hide it from me. He’d hidden me from her. Hidden me like some dirty little secret he had to keep away from his perfect, unsullied life.
I guess he was right on that score because they’d all dropped his like a hot potato the whole sanctimonious lot of them, including his parents and hers. None of their mutual friends agreed with him or wanted anything to do with our relationship; they chose his side.
But I knew from the research I did that this never lasts. That eventually, everyone would come around and forget the whole thing. But that never happened for us. Is that why he’d gone back? Because he had been isolated and ostracized from everyone he knew.
We couldn’t even go to his usual haunts because that’s where he went with her, and they might run into someone he knew. We had to go out of the city to find somewhere decent to have a meal because our smallish town was too close for comfort for him.
But that was part of my ammo, rubbing it in the other woman’s face. How was I to do that if he wouldn’t even be seen with me in public? And then, even after it all came out with the bath water, he still treated me like a dirty little secret. Why didn’t I see it before it was too late?
Beyond the sex, we no longer seemed to have anything in common. One of the things he’d complained about was going home to a noisy house overrun with kids and the stress it brought after a long day at work, so I knew the last thing he wanted was to discuss the stress of the job with me after hours, but that was the only thing we had in common.