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No, go away, come back here.

I can’t take it anymore, I just can’t handle you. You are too good, come over here. Get on top of me. Massage me, act like my shoulders are still slightly taboo for you to touch.

Work me, make me forget what I just said, that I couldn’t handle you. Just handle me instead, work your fingers in there. Tissue, skin, back, spine, shoulders, I really don’t care. Just make sure that I don’t forget what your fingers feel like.

I don’t want your dick again, I simply need it. I don’t care about it, I just fucking love it. I don’t care how it looks like, I wanna know how it feels.

Yes, I know you’re still soft, I can feel you there with your limp dick resting between my cheeks. You and I both need a rest, so don’t you dare and actually take one. 

I am so not done fucking you, you don’t even have an idea of how not finished with you I am. My body yearns for yours, and my closed eyes would stare you down if my head wasn’t pressed into the mattress. I’ll let my ass do the talking, and I’ll get right up in your face with it if I have to. See that? Feel that? That’s my ass up in the air, grinding against you like I can still handle another round.

I can’t, I really just can’t. You have to do the work this time, just like last time. I won’t move, I won’t care, and I certainly won’t complain. Not loudly, at least, and not with real words. They’ll be whispers, moans, and shivers that do the talking for me.

I can’t make good conversation with you anyway, it never works out. I can never focus on what you say, I get dumb when you get clever. But I never get clever when it’s your turn to act dumb, life is never fair to me like that.

Life is really never fair to me when you are around, and I never manage to keep my morals high, my resistance up, my sentences to end like I started them.

You sweet talk me like it’s nothing to you, no matter what you say. You could explain a complicated spreadsheet to me, and I would totally find out what you are really talking about. Show me a shopping list, and I would lose it. Tell me about the places you visited since we last saw each other, and I want you to take me there. 

But worst of all, you find out how my body works, you find out what I need, and you can give it to me. Life really isn’t fair, with that perfect dick of yours, the one that handles me better than I can handle it. I love that slight curvature, it all the time melts me like I’m ice cream on a hot summer day. It feels just like it shouldn’t feel, and that wrecks me like nothing else ever could. 

It makes me dread the moment you pull out, makes me hate it when I can see things clearly again. I don’t want to see it, don’t want to see your smiling face and act like I can still smile back. My body is done for, my brain is jelly, and that is just how I wanted to feel today. I wanted to stop caring who finds me like this, as long as you don’t leave. You can stay here, and my husband can have the couch, I literally do not care. He probably would, you two would probably fight, but I won’t root for him to win. I don’t want him to lose, either, I just don’t want him in here when you get back to me. 

And I want you to, I want you to do all the things that I don’t want you to do, like this stupid hour of cuddling that you all the time try to rope me into. I don’t want to cuddle, I want you to be naked, and hard, and I want to be wet, and soft. I want you to meet me halfway, meet me in the middle, and then fucking leave already, and please don’t actually leave.

I need your arms wrapped around me, and I need your stupid kisses on parts of my body that don’t even react well to kisses. I need you to look me in the eye and say things that make no sense, but to me they all the time do. You say cute things that sound aggressive, and you are aggressively cute when you insult me and call me a slut, or worse. 

I love it when you put some money on the table and tell me that I’m decent for a cheap whore, and I love it when you make me gifts that show me that you care. I all the time buy something stupid with it for my husband, and he is all the time confused why I feel the need to buy him anything. 

But he will never know, he won’t ever even have to try and find out why you are here with me, doing things I explicitly ask you not to do again. He won’t ever even know your name, or start to wonder how we got to know each other, because I will never fucking tell him. You are mine, more even than he is, and I won’t distribute you with anyone, not even the bestest of best friends that I could possibly have.

Because you find out me when I’m not the bestest anything, when I’m the worstest I could possibly be.

And because I know you find out, I no longer have to find out anything, and I can begin to simply feel. 

So go on, make me fall, and make me feel. You can catch me later, but you don’t have to. You can simply leave when you are done, you don’t even have to cuddle me. 

But I’ll cry if you don’t.

NSFW: yes

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