Oh, you again, sweetheart? Yeah, he’s here, where else would he be this time of day? You know what he likes, and that is me. Fuck me? Yeah, he does that sometimes, so what? Are you really so innocent, or is that an act you put up?
Look, chica, that’s how life gets sometimes. Things change, and we change with them.
And so what if he likes to come here? So what if he’s married to you? It’s not like you made much of an effort to keep him.
Yeah, we really are living here now, your husband and I. Yes, a rusting old shipwreck that they pulled ashore, and now nobody knows who even owns it. Tell you who owns it, it’s that slag who fucks your husband. Honestly, probably not, but this is as much mine as anyone’s now. Try getting me evicted, see if anyone cares.
So tell me, what do you hate more? That your husband is in the process of leaving you, or that he’s here with me? Would it be better if he found a chick who’s more your style? Younger than you, more beautiful? Would you like it if she dressed up nice, wore a suit to work? Because he could have that, too, you know? You think I’m washed up? Look in a mirror sometimes, you’ve run the mile.
Admit it, chica, you lost your edge, and he hasn’t just yet. He could walk up to the big ivory tower, and you would be yelling your insults at some kind of CEO boss bitch. And trust me, she wouldn’t be so calm with you. She would probably be strangling you with her purse, just so she can see the life vanish from your eyes.
So again, what about it? Yeah we shoot guns sometimes, whenever we feel like it. Ain’t bothering no one, unless you stand between me and the wall, which I do not recommend. And we fuck when we feel like it, any which way we want.
He wants my ass? Just say the word, not like with you, begging to no avail, when really it’s nothing special much. It feels really nice, by the way, you should have tried it when you had the chance. It’s not an ugly thing that he wanted of you, it’s the opposite. It’s a sign of trust and deep connection, of giving into your own desire to be touched. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? He has told me all about you, and your screeching voice confirms it all.
You sound like fingers do on a chalkboard, and your voice makes me think that angle grinder noise isn’t all that bad. But that’s just you, isn’t it? You are just that, a noisy little tool that your hubby used to get some work done.
But you know what? A tool’s a tool, and sometimes, the fancy tools aren’t even all that good. So yeah, call me a slut if you like, but I’m the hammer he likes picking up to drive a nail into the wall. Yes, you can sound off like a power drill, but it’s that winy noise you make that makes him reach for me, not you.
He’s in there, now, why don’t you come inside and talk to him? Why don’t you walk inside, tell him you love him, or whatever else it is that you lie to yourself about? Look, Honey, I know this can’t be easy for you, this whole life and reality thing that you never had to face before.
Why don’t you run back home to Daddy, huh? You have one, don’t you? Yeah, see, I never had that luxury, and God knows I’m thankful that fucker is dead. You run home to yours, and snuggle up in his lap, and you can cry all you like about the dirty world out there and the dirty old hag that took your hubby away from you.
Because let’s face it, you won’t be coming inside with me, you won’t do anything that could actually convince him to come back to you. Not that it would work, but you could at least try, and you can’t even bring yourself to do the bare minimum that would count as actual action.
So, go on, hop in that fancy car of yours and drive away, back home to mom and pop, and cry your eyes out for their entertainment. Just don’t forget to stop by the car wash on your way, wouldn’t want their neighbors raising their noses at your dirty tires.
But no, of course you won’t, you still have things to say, don’t you? Names to call me, and some sentences you well prepared ahead of time? You probably wrote them down somewhere, right? So go on, pull out your little notebook, and let’s get this over with. I promise I will listen, and frankly, I will even care, because part of me wants to like you. You remind me of my best friend back in the day, back before we grew up, and she tried to hug an oncoming semi. Didn’t work out so well for her, now did it. But then, she knew all about that, she was a smart one like you are. Knew exactly what was gonna happen, still did it for some reason.
Fucked me up for a while, you know? I always did things right by her, I even kissed her whenever her boyfriends broke up with her. Fingered her until she forgot about them, and I really worked her like they never could.
Is that why you’re here, do you want me to take care of you? Because we can do that, we can jump right on the backseat of your car if you don’t mind my dirty shoes. I’ll touch you in ways that boys just can’t, they don’t understand what it’s like to have more than one nerve ending.
Okay then, your choice. And yes, I will totally _fuck me,_ anytime I god damn well feel like it. You should try it sometimes, Miss Catholic, it has a proven scientific record of making your headaches disappear.
Now listen to me, talking like one of you fancy sluts already, trying in vain to fit in with your crowd. I should know better, I always knew better. It was always your folks acting all high and mighty, and parents scoffing at me when I had the nerve to be friends with their kids. It was moms warning their boys about me, and Daddies who made sure that their little daughters understood how dangerous I was to be associated with.
It was me who never got pregnant as a teen, but the loads of you all were, because for some reason it’s okay when they marry you afterward. I was always careful, you folks never were, and then it was somehow my fault when their cute daughters suddenly found themselves in a maternity ward.
So why don’t you head on home, and maybe find a fancy guy you can keep pressing babies out with, and then tell yourself what a good looking slut you are, and what a prime example for high moral standards.
Because if you don’t, then you might just find out how similar we are, and that we could have easily had our roles in life reversed. This could be you, desperately trying to be friends with other chicks, and always getting the short end of the stick. I could be you, fancy dresses and dinners, and not daring to touch myself between my legs at the dinner table. Can you imagine? It feels so good to stuff food into your face while you stuff yourself, and it feels so good to just let loose and touch yourself while he sits behind you with your arms around you.
He even helps me do it, while we watch TV on the mattress, because I can’t afford a fucking couch. He runs his arms around me, slowly runs his fingers down between my legs, and he doesn’t stop until I’m begging him to. And then, I get to fall asleep in his arms, and he is happy to have someone who’s happy with him, that’s uncharted territory for him.
And sure, I’ll admit it, I really like your hubby as well, he just has something about him. Makes me feel like I don’t have to be in charge all the time, you know? Makes me feel like it’s okay to let myself fall a little, because he’s there to catch me. I don’t know if you can understand that, because you only ever wanted to possess him.
You never understood what it’s like to stand on your own feet, to do the work that men do on your own, and to put on work boots in the morning. You probably have a pair of cute rubber boots, don’t you? Pink, with flowers, a hundred bucks more than a good pair of rubber boots has to cost? No steel cap toes, though, so you might be careful when you’re out cruising for a bruising next time. Easy to stub your toe that way, easy to get stepped on, if you catch my drift.
And now, I suggest you leave already, because I have things to do. Some of them with your husband, and another thing _just your husband,_ and just in general things that I would rather focus on today. Because I have stuff to do, and some of it includes some stuffing.
Here’s something for you, I’ll allow you some control. That’s what you want, right, to control the situation? So, how’s this for control: You decide how I’m gonna fuck your hubby tonight, and I’ll do it. On my knees? Flat on my back? Or touching myself while I beg him to fuck me, and he never does?
Yeah, I think that’s fair, let’s both of us spend the night the same way just this once. Who knows, maybe we’ll develop some kind of deep understanding, you and I. Maybe, we’ll go to bed as enemies, and wake up as friends.
What do you say, deal?
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/11s4lvx/if_you_want_him_come_get_him_fmvanillaf32