You call me, ask that favor. I comply. We meet. I handle it.
You don’t quite know how much I grew, for you, in that moment. I had that strength, for you. I’ve literally left my husband hanging with less.
To all the women that might read this: this is becoming an emotional thing. I provided first aid to him. My bedside manner was everything you’d want! At least, it was everything I’d want. Wanted… anyway
Once more we get to chatting. You’re sitting on your bed, I choose the floor, seeming a less desperate mirror move. After a while we get to the couch, all afternoon we played a ‘tug of war’ of space. You slowly moved over as I tried that move. Luckily, and unfortunately for me, this day lead some revealing truths. You shared you do not initiate. Which all I heard is I have to take the lead if I wanted this to happen.
This being of course the affair that I really started writing about to get some sexual release, but has been transformed into this vaguely active plan to get my roommate into my natural pockets. A vaguely active plan that is coming with some sensational masturbation material. Some real world feelings. But the dms, and the fantasies, and the things that last so little…. I know good and hell well an affair would end poorly all around the board.
So I listen to your tales, of how you were quite the hoe back in your day, and as occasionally as recently. You have truly been an open book, but now I’m piecing together what all clues you have dropped.
1. You do not initiate
2. You are not a home wrecker
3. You fucked with a married chick on a technicality
4. You are a mild exhibitionist
5. You can have sex and let it be just that, then and there
Pretty dam useful clues. I may use these. We all know I want to.
I’ve been telling the take now for days of how I want to through caution to the wind and I chase the adrenaline rush seven minutes in heaven with you would bring. As I sit in the aftermath of being a good woman to you, I start into a day dream of the wish would happens.
As we sit here on the couch, I wish you’d reach over stress a detail of one of your stories. Looking deep into my eyes, I want you to say my name, sternly, passionately, but with an heir of lust. I hope your attention is captured and your thought runs off, leaving your sentence lingering in the air-thick like this eye contact.
Me being such a thirst trap, id lean in for the kiss. I’d want you to take control of it. I’d want you to take a hand and grace the back of my neck with a soft guide. With your other, good use could be found playing puppeteer to make my posture realign to yours.
If you were to pull on my hips with confident direction, you could place my pelvis exactly over yourself to begin a grinding session that could lubricate the Sahara. To ride you through clothing… I wouldn’t be able to not grab my tits. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from placing your hands everywhere I want to feel your embrace.
Of course, that’s what I want, and I can’t type clearly thinking about all the things you may want of me. All the ways you might use me like a rag doll to release some stess….
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/xdf2te/fantasizing_mind