The words of lovemaking are almost as sexy as the act itself – anticipation, desire, arousal, cunninglingus, penetration, orgasm. The words of adultery – secrecy, hiding, desperate, needy, scared.
Our first time together was as seedy as it was magical. He stripped the comforter off of our budget rate hotel room bed for fear of the germs and bugs which might infest it. The discolored sheets held little promise.
I was so nervous, I wouldn’t sit on the bed or near him. I curled myself into a ball in a worn chair, hoping he would break the tension.
We chatted about this and that. He stretched out and the urge to touch him overwhelmed me.
He kissed me and stroked me into submission. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he stripped away my clothes piece by piece. Naked and waiting, he slid his fingers inside me and made me orgasm over and over again. How could I not love someone who gave me so much pleasure? We were made to fit each other.
He entered me like we’d been doing it our whole lives. He was a fast fucker, ramming me into silliness. I almost laughed at how fast he drove his message home. He was incredible.
God, he was so good and pure then. His eyes clear and boundless, dark brown. He smiled easily, laughed sunnily and kissed like a god. Was it me that turned him into the monster? Was my influence all he needed to find that hidden evil the lived in his soul?
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