Seeing if anything is left.

I have to make this quick because I’m headed to Elliot’s for the first time since meeting his wife.  This will only be the second time I’ve seen him since then.  Exactly a week ago I was ready to end it because I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who pushes me away and shuts down when shit hits the fan, but I couldn’t get him to call me to do it.  The irony.

This weekend, I feel less like ending it, though, and more like just accepting it for what it is: a very pale smear to the bright and vivid thing I believed it to be.  Besides, I haven’t been lacking in male companionship, so what does it matter?

Peter filled me up 14 ways to Tuesday the afternoon before I met Eleanor.  Our trysts have been filled with passion and cuddles and his long limbs entwined with my mine.  And last night a stunning young man whose dark skin burned against mine drove several hours just to come see me.  He filled up all my holes with his giant cock and made sure I could see what was happening between us contorting my body in ways I didn’t know it could bend while he drilled into me.

I lay in his nook and he played with my hair and we laughed at how when the drugstore clerk automatically asked me how my night was going he didn’t realize he was ringing up a box of extra extra large Magnum condoms.

“Well…” I hesitated.  It was then he saw what was in his hands and he laughed out loud.

“Sorry,” he smiled mirthfully.  “I tried to keep a straight face.”

“It’s ok and my night is going really well!”

I slept fitfully in his hotel room and only just now grabbed a short nap.  I can still feel the effects of our date – both on the toilet and in my alertness – but Elliot surprised me with a text around 3 pm asking me over for pizza and gelato.

He’s alone tonight and so off I go to see what’s left between us.  The only other time I’ve seen him was a chaste and disappointing breakfast a week after the meet and greet with his lovely wife.  I don’t think you serve gelato to someone you’re about to dump, so I’m curious to hear what he has to say.

Wish me luck.

 

 

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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3 thoughts on “Seeing if anything is left.
  1. The story is repeated tirelessly between Hy and Hyacinth who fight the cover of happiness.
    One is guided by her sex and the other by her heart. It is always the same who wins and always the same who loses…
    kisses

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