When it comes to choosing a lover, I am pretty amiable. I like men of all shapes and sizes, blonde with blue eyes, dark hair with smoky brown eyes, soft and firm, tall or short -- they all taste so sweet. I usually prefer them married, but my brown-eyed Irish boy is not. He was a welcome addition to my fuck parade after a drought, but in one area, he fails.
Maybe I shouldn't be so picky. Maybe I should be thankful for an ever-ready cock and twisting fingers that so easily find my g-spot. Maybe I shouldn't assume that all men who cheat with a married woman like the same things.
I have a secondary love affair with words, and until now, my lovers have joined me. Stories about dreams, desires -- many posted on this site. Typed promises about next meetings and naked rendevous. E-mailed memos about music, movies and porn.
I was lucky. My previous conquests were voracious e-mailers, seducing me with their virtual attention as well as their honey tongues. My big strong man would often send me three or four messages at a time, and then plead for my quick response with a terse, "What are you doing? Please answer me!"
Part of the thrill of an affair is that extra attention a lover bestows. Lately, I'm not so thrilled.
I'm already contemplating the end of this affair. To end it now without a replacement would only leave a hungry, selfish pussy in the wake. I can fuck him for a while longer.
But my fingers are itching to type those seductive promises to someone new -- someone who loves words as much as orgasms.
From devoted girlfriend to loving wife. From nagging spouse to mother of his child. From disenchanted woman to a glorfied mistress. These are my stories of elicit rendevous, stolen moments, slippery encounters and sex and sex and sex. I am a mistress, an adulterer, someone's lover and secret.
About Me
- Forever Mistress
- Forever looking for that next great ....
8 comments:
I had an affair with a woman who couldn't write worth a damn. When she would try to write something sexy (which I had to ask for, she'd never do it on her own) she was so stilted and awkward with her writing that it was worse than nothing at all.
Hmmmm . . . I must sound like such a snob.
Great picture on your profile, by the way!
And sadly, I've never met Chris Cornell, but indeed he's one of my favorite singers too. Although I've never contemplated sex with him . . .
I am a snob. I'm paid to be one. You can join my snob caravan.
The sex is pretty good, so it's silly to end it over something so trivial as e-mail, but damn, give me something! If I'm patient, I imagine I'll find someone willing to send me dirty e-mail soon. (Deliver me, oh Internet!)
I'm nervous about that picture, I don't know how long it will stay. I just wanted to try it out.
Well, I'm not paid to be a snob (I don't especially wish to be one either.) But I seem only to yearn for sensual women who have the ability to think about sex intelligently and creatively, and to express their thoughts with flair and grace. So ought I be applying to join your caravan?
~EA
Hold on a second, buddy!!! The line forms behind me!!! ; )
Forever Mistress, you are hereby tagged! (Didn't see that coming, did you?)
Take a peak here for ze rules:
Ashley and Me
I'd have to join you on your parade of snobbery. If a lover can't write--I can't connect.
The phone is limited, in-person meetings are restricted and sometimes abbreviated. I need some kind of thread of continuity--something to keep me going until next time.
If a guy doesn't understand this, he's not the one for me.
I have been a fan of the Easily Aroused Englishman for a while now. You are a fabulous writer. But you can't join the caravan.
For you, I have a nice warm, wet spot right between my ....
Now that sounds even more exclusive, not to say inviting. How could I possibly refuse?
~EA
I'm not one for begging, but please don't refuse. I promise to make it very much worth your time. Maybe even good enough to make the paperback version of EA.
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