F4M Bruise

I try my way in my bedroom, I’ve been buzzing and vibrating, classic Charming, no self-romance. After the second nap, and third orgasm, I stuck my fingers in deep, feeling how smooth and open I am. My skin is tingling and maybe I literally need to recharge.

 

No one asks these questions–I have had two serious marriage proposals.

 

Maurice couldn’t stay hard that night, and was maybe on the right or wrong drugs for the other parts of his life. I had been too tired to move off of him, and his fingers slid from my shoulder blade, and eased over to my waist and hip. He glazed over or became hyper alert when I talked about wanting a relationship with an equal. Maurice has a habit of blinking hard, fixing the one contact he wears. He’s a man of the people, and he’s a man with vanity. He was stunning younger, and remains charismatic and attractive now.

 

He tried out the words in the dark, and asked me to marry him. I felt that graceful body have a slight hiccup, and imagined his gratitude for all the miles between us and Las Vegas.

I said “yes” and let the tone of my voice tell the room I was in my year-of-yes. I drifted in and out, and thought, “This guy is great with mammals.”

 

More than a year after all of this, and he’s gone quiet on me. Then this morning, “Charming, I’ve found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t want to say anything to you until I was sure.”

I am happy for him, and surprised. I am surprised because maybe he meant it, when he asked me to marry him, when he told me he loved me. He had a romantic notion he shared with me on the phone on his birthday one year, hungover, and still drunk. He told me he regretted things, that he and I should have had a lifelong relationship.

That’s what we have–pay attention. I am showing up in your life, I am showing up for you and I write you love letters of a sort.

That’s what I regret. I’ve pointed out to him we did have a life long relationship. My most logical point, the truest part of me wasn’t enough. He wanted me only with romance.

 

I think about when I’ve been this plump and unrecognizable. We woke up after the proposal early morning and I had to put my hand on top of his. He asked me if I was sore. I was still qualifying, equivocating, and told him, “I’m not sore, per say, I’m tender.” There was some bitten off whispering, and then he forgot his words. He thought his dick was the interesting thing–I’m still thinking about his fingers on my ribcage years later, and all I can say to his ego and reaction is “Cock who?” I forgot to pay attention as he held more than my hand, as he guided me up over and around.

 

Get this right and sprinkle marks around my body like flower petals. I’ll put your hand on my face, lick the center of your palm, and then suck your thumb into my mouth. I am going to put my thighs on your shoulders and hold your snout right where I need it.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3d1cwt/f4m_bruise