A few months ago, I finally met a friend I had been speaking to online and on the phone for many years. She had never quite been “innocent,” but I took pride in the part I played in corrupting this “pure” Catholic girl from afar. For years, she would tell me she was mine. When she met her boyfriend in college… Still, she would always confess, she was mine. When she met another man and got married… Still, she confessed, she was mine. It was never had to get her to confess it.
“I’m your slut, Sir,” she would tell me as I made her bring herself to orgasm. “All yours.”
But she had assured her husband those times with me were long gone… And he had no idea that she was meeting me that day…
He had no idea that we spent an entire long, romantic day together as she showed me around town.
He had no idea how many passionate kisses I stole from her.
He had no idea how I pinched her nipples, tugging and twisting them, torturing them, as I made her confess how badly she wanted me as we sat in her car, inside of a parking garage.