He’s my TN.

My body opened for him, my heart pumped for him, my legs spread for him.

It had been days since we were able to connect; weekly demands, family in town, and work schedules conspired against us.  I felt an angsty itch I couldn’t swat away, but we had promised each other that last night would be the end of the itching.

“I need you deep inside of me,” I texted.  “It will make my world right.”

“I sure hope so,” The Neighbor responded.

“I’m sure it will,” I said.

He popped over later in the evening and lit a fire for Peyton and me.  They chatted for a minute and then he and I talked on the balcony while Pey watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

My heart was heavy and has been re-broken as I navigate a new stage of my relationship with my ex and my ex-family.  He was kind, offered words of encouragement.  “Fuck them, Hy.  Repeat after me, ‘Fuck them!'”

I said the words and joked that at least I had his cock to make me feel better.  He agreed as I leaned across the chilly night and grabbed his warm, soft bulge.

“You ok?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I answered eyeing his lips.  I brushed them with my own and his soft beard tickled my skin.  “I am now.”

“Good.”  He stood up.  “Text me later, ok?  I’m off to get dinner.”

I thanked him again and finished my warm, cozy night with my gangly limbed little one and the second I knew that sleep had descended on my house I texted a simple, “OK!”

I changed out of my jeans into maroon scrubs and removed my bra.  My heavy breasts sagged against my white cotton shirt and I sighed.  I went and laid down on my couch to wait, excited and even a little nervous.

I heard heavy footsteps, a door open, a door shut and then my door open.  He was here.

I looked at him as he walked into my apartment wearing only black basketball shorts.  “Come on,” he said with his hand out.  “Let’s go.”  His face was serious, his bulge obvious.

I giggled and sat upright, grabbed his hand and skipped a little as he led me to my room.  He shut the door and locked it lest Peyton wake up and need Mommy for something.

I handed him a lighter and gestured toward the candle on my nightstand as I turned off the lights.

I heard the lighter and the room filled with a warm glow.  He turned to me and took my face in his hands and kissed me.  His cologne filled my nostrils and I inhaled the sweet, manly scent.  I pressed my body against his bare chest and pulled back and in one motion removed my shirt then my pants.

I stood before him in purple knee-high socks and black lace panties.  I arched my back a little as I noticed him glance at my breasts and abdomen.  He grabbed me again and pulled me in for a deeper, longer kiss.

I tugged at his shorts and shoved them off the rest of the way with my stockinged foot.  He giggled at my antics, kissed me again then shoved me down on the bed and ripped off my panties.

I could feel my wetness and grew more excited to see his reaction.  He pushed my legs apart and positioned himself between them, his cock found my hole and his eyes grew wide when he felt his cock slide in with such ease.

“Jesus Christ, Hy,” he moaned into my ear.

He began to rock into me and I clung to him.  He kissed my ear, my neck, my lips.  I grew greedy and mewled at him, kissing him back like it was my last opportunity for touch.

I grabbed at his flanks and ground down on him as his arms wrapped around me to hold me to him.  He pounded my fucking pussy like it was his last opportunity for touch.

I gushed and I came in so many bursts that left me breathless, my breasts crushed against the fur of chest grew hot from our friction.  His mouth was all over me, such a rare treat, I felt like a chocolate beneath his mouth and tongue.

He pushed himself up on his knees and bent my legs, my dark purple socks looked like boots.  My pussy was so slick I could barely feel him and I worried aloud about it.  He assured me that wasn’t the case for him.

I began to pant how much I loved his fucking cock over and over, a broken, lusty record.  I clenched, I prayed, I hoped to God he could actually feel me and then I heard a hitch in his voice and his pants began to come in earnest.

The tops of his thighs slammed into the soft undersides of mine as his body jerked and he came deep inside of me.  He paused for a minute and I wanted to cry with relief.  I felt like a rag doll.  But it lasted only a moment before he started to move again.

“No, wait,” I begged.  “Please, stop, please.  Let’s just rest!”  He laughed at me and asked if I was sure.  “I said, yes, please.  I know you’re a sex machine and you can go forever, but please, go easy on me.  I really just want to lay with you.  I’ve cum 14 times already, I swear!”

He laughed again and flopped down next to me and I curled up into his nook.  I lay there thinking how weird it is that I have to tell the man-who-never-cums-in-me to stop fucking me after he finally does.  He’s a special one, that’s for sure.

We lay in each other’s arms and I felt the ooze between my legs and smiled.  I couldn’t wait to wake up the next morning and feel its continuous drip, proof that he was there.

I stroked his shoulders and his temples, anywhere I could lay my hands on him and he melted into me before announcing his departure.

I realized that it has been a solid year since I’ve been monogamous with him.  It feels weird, scary and also very right.  A year’s worth of one man’s semen in and on me, one man’s cock, one man’s eyes.  It feels possessive and free all at once.  It feels truly lovely.

I walked him to the door, gave him a good, hard smack on his ass and kissed him goodnight.  My love, my neighbor, my TN walked next door through a cold 5 feet and disappeared for one more night.

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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