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Stories | 2016

[FM] Booty call the second (welllll, third): 'Im bit drunk. SNt to make out'

I'll be real with you. I didn't think I was going to hear from Beardy Tattooey McHunk again after our last encounter. He's notoriously bad at communication. Reads messages (thanks, read receipts, you assholes), but doesn't respond to them. Doesn't usually contact me first. That sort of thing.

The Day of the Doctor? [FM]

It's been a boring and frustrating start to the year, but at last this weekend brought about the year's first Comic Con for me, meaning a trip across the country, a Friday night staying at a friend's house who happened to live pretty close to the convention, and then an early start on Saturday morning to get changed into cosplay and jump onto a local train for the event.

My hands free blowjob lesson failed, but some how it was still great. [FMF]

Last weekend (first weekend of Feb. 2017) Madison, my husband and I were relaxing in the patio listening to the Chrissy Cannon show on satellite radio and drinking wine. One of her guests mentioned that she recently gave her first successful blowjob without using her hands. She said that in her five year career and her personal life, she has to have given over 2000 blowjobs, but this was the first time she got a mouth full of cum without using her hands.

Lunch time stress relief.[MF]

"Hey, take your lunch at one."

Her message read exactly like the command it was. As I read it I could even hear her tone of voice, and imagine the unimpressed expression on her face as she made the decision that she wanted my attention.

"You got it babe." I write back. After I send the message, I question why I even wrote "babe," as she's clearly not in that kind of mood.

"Good" is her only response.

[FM] The last time we fucked (m25, f22) [long]

I should had said no. They told me that he doesn't deserve me. He told me himself that I'm too good for him. I don't care though, I want him.

When I try to be strong and remember the ways he hurt me, my mind strays back to those rare, tender moments… meeting me with a wolfish grin at the door, pulling me closer to him at night, the sickly sweet pet names whispered straight into my ear. Those long nights crying into my pillow seem so distant, tears so dry.

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