My second was a sweet boy, terribly shy, terribly besotted with the idea of sleeping with a bad girl. He knew I was taken. We fucked slowly, him touching my chest like has hands held the softest scoops of pale vanilla, delicate little fingers and such unsure thrusts.
“How does it feel?”
I felt guilty.
I cradled my own love in my arms after him. Darting back into the flat I swept him up and kissed him deeply. He fucked me like I love to be fucked, he touched me how I wanted, hard and fast with no delicacy and I came. My boyfriend gives me orgasms. My conquests are just food for thought.
I cradled him that night, his scrubbed up head close to mine, his soft tired breathing warm against the pearly skin of a neck.
I do love you but I’m not sorry. It gets easy very quickly.
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