She (F) Doesn’t Understand (M) – A casual story about a quiet moment.
Some miracle occurred that made my gf (F) of 4 years, which once required multiple daily workouts (and intimate encounters) prior to a significant death in the family, want to take our dogs for a walk this afternoon. A small trail astride a creek settled between two neighborhoods, we were far from the wilderness but unburdened by heavy traffic or prying eyes. About half way along I (M) started joking about making out along the edge of a thick brush and prompted only a smirk and a chuckle from her beautiful, full lips. We carried on, chatting about how the trail had changed since her youth, how she once hurt her ankle on a patch of downed acorns, how she used to call her best friend and let them know she’d be out on a run…now she had me…and now she didn’t run.
We were never unhappy. The tears I elicited were of joy and grief only. My utter faithfulness was of no discontent to her and her fidelity remained unquestioned……..but unneeded.
She had and has no idea that I know all about her string of lovers before we became serious. That I had spoken to her former trainer who she said “let her join other classes for free” and yet suspiciously expected “nothing” from her. That years ago I accidentally found the hidden folder on her phone of her ex boyfriend’s Pringles-can-sized piece.
She is a legitimate mother in her forties built by a God who must love black men a little more then any other son of Adam. Brunette, curly hair. Light brown eyes. The fairest, softest milk-toned skin. Perfectly shaped nipples resting on enhanced breasts, thanks to an unfaithful ex husband. All that sitting on a naturally curved waist and hip structure that culminate in a stupendous and stupidly perfect ass. I’d say buttocks or butt or booty or tail if it fit but…no. It’s an ass. The kind a Kardashian would pay for. The kind a white girl in college in the 90s starved herself to hide. She worked out constantly, eating only to fuel her progress. Now, she might walk around the grocery store but, after 60 pounds of gain and knee problems besetting her, it isn’t how she spends her time. I could care less either way, as long as she’s happy.
I’m white. I mean I get tan and have curly hair but I’m very white. By some miracle I was blessed with a well above average piece of equipment that other women have always picked up on and picked up. But 11 years her junior, I’m the lucky one. Her sex drive was the thing of legend. “I don’t mind being used fast and hard, just make sure you use me” and “Just fuck my face before we have to go to this work dinner…I want to feel you in my throat” we’re phrases I heard more than once. As cliché or man-fantasy as they may seem, they really happened. Often. Now? We’re at once or twice a year for any sexual connection. And yet no complaint from her.
Our leisurely stroll with Labrador noses to the ground transitioned to me asking about some new toys I had sent to her while I was away on business; an expensive gspot vibe and a luxury sonic clit device. She smiled and pursed her lips “they’re good,” was all I got back. “What does the clit thing feel like?” I asked coyly. “Different but it’s nice. Now too intense because it goes around, not on.” Finally an actual answer, but still not what I wanted. All day I’ve been teasing at her, touching her, rubbing feet and neck and back, scrubbing her down in the shower and lotioning her up. After a week of being away and daily expressing my desire for her, nothing returned.
At the last bend before the parking lot I went for it: “So I don’t suppose you’d want me to go down on you while you sat on the park bench there,” slipped off my tongue with a smile.
A returned smile? No
A wild glance in expectation? No.
Her tying a dog to a tree and ripping her pants down…….no.
“Ugh. What? You’re so weird.”
She doesn’t know that I know why she said no.
She doesn’t know that I know about the other man.
She doesn’t know that he videos their time together, not filled with him cooking meals and cleaning house and massaging her feet every night…
It’s her filled with him.
How do I know? Her BBC trainer? It’s his best friend. Even bigger, even sloppier, even less safe. He’s fucking her ass every second I’m away and that woman I love? She doesn’t even tell me.
Then again, he didn’t mention I gave her his number.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mfezjv/she_doesnt_understand_a_casual_story_about_a