This isn’t the most riveting story in the world but I just read three annoyingly unrealistic stories on here in a row so I thought why not add my real one even if it’s mundane and a bit prose-y.
This is a few years ago when I was 18, maybe 19, and I had a fuckbuddy I saw about once a week at his apartment. I was the kind of effortlessly skinny you get to be when you’re that age and have the genes for it, a short hourglass figure with boobs that were just large enough to comfortably cup with your hands. He was a carpenter, slim and tall with big hands and a big dick to match.
I would usually come over after dinner, we’d fuck twice in the evening and once or twice in the morning and then I’d be off. Over time I’m pretty sure we both developed feelings but I didn’t see a relationship working out (different values) and if he did he never made it explicit enough for me to act on.