He Played, Hard, and I Loved Every Moment
I love beautiful men. If they are half my age, that’s all fine too. I don’t mind if they leave in the middle of the night. In fact, usually I’m quite relieved.
I roll over and reach out my hand. Just like in the movies when you shout at the screen that no one would stay asleep as their partner left. He’d left.
And yes, I’d slept through his departure.
No surprise, he’d been the reason I’d slept so soundly.
He had hammered me into submission, and as I roll over to doze again, the ache between my legs reminded me of that. I’d be feeling his presence for a while.
Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing better than waking up in the arms of a lover and making love. Eating breakfast together and chatting over the Sunday news. But I had years of that with my gorgeous husband.
Now I’m alone, and still horny as fuck.
I choose to spend my time with younger men. The great thing is I only need to fuck when I want, with who I want, how I want. My husband was a great lover, but as in any partnership, there’s give and take. I just take now.
Selfish?
Probably, but I don’t give a fuck.
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