I should write a letter

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was a fling, something fast and furious and over. He talked about making me come. About making me wet. About making me scream, about coming too hard, for too long, to want more. I teased him with a few thoughts. Went naked under my denims for him. Wore sweet nothings for him to feast his eyes on. Had him panting like hell. He made me think about it all the time. (Well okay, I thought about it most the time anyway.) Everything I said could have been turned one way or another. The panting phone calls and the risqué emails flew back and forth. Minutes burned on the cell phone just teasing. And then it suddenly happened. Not really pre-planned. Oh it’d been discussed ad nauseum. But never planned. One thing led to another and then he thrust himself into my mouth, into my slit. Hot and wet and slick. It was a fabulous furious fuck. Paid for it spades later with aches and pains, but worth it. Years of building up and then falling down the rabbit hole all at once. Wow. That was something. One of those moments when you believe all those stories in Penthouse & Playboy are true, because it belongs there.