I was never this girl before.
I was not the popular girl in school, the one who's name was forever mentioned in conjunction with prom queen, homecoming queen or court-warming princess. The popular boys paid me scant attention. Blonde and statuesque passed me by.
I'm used to being ignored, passed over, assumptions drawn. I'm 34 but could pass for 25. I have freckles. I'm diminutive. My curls are flouncy, my complexion palid.
Yet, I'm the girl in the backseat writhing under twisting fingers, face flushed, breathing erractic, cresting the third of many orgasms. I'm the one tied to the bed, a dark-headed hedonist between my legs sucking and grinding my clit as I fight my bonds with the urge to bury my fingers in his hair and pull.
In the office, I am bold, assertive, battling those assumptions that have haunted me for many years. I'm usually not the prettiest girl in the board room. But in the hotel room later, it's the dark-eyed C.O.O. that forces me to my knees to suck his cock.
My breasts are my own. My dimpled thighs are testament to my love of chocolate. The faded striae on my sides are a reminder of the child I carried. They are part of the bigger picture of me -- the girl who became the closet porn star, who attracts the lacivious looks from married men with one flounce of that ridiculously curly hair. That same girl who barely gets a glance from others is the same who likes a dick in the ass, three fingers in her cunt and a sharp twist on her nipples.
And where are those other girls now? The prom queen? The court-warming princess? At home, alone, waiting for their husband who is working late -- or rather, the husband who is working my g-spot with dripping fingers to stroke one last fluttering orgasm before he has to wash away my scent and speed back to her.
I don't know how I became this girl, this lust-filled vixen who consumes fucking like air. But I hope she stays for a while longer. Or at least long enough to get my fill of memories to carry me through those long nights when the desire fades.
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 ....
7 comments:
Where are those girls now? I can honestly say I don't care at all. Not interested in them.
But I care very much where I might someday find you! Fabulous post as usual.
I like your picture rotation, by the way. Especially the ones of your curls. You know . . . in case you're taking votes . . . ; )
Seems everywhere I go I am behind Riff. (would rather he be behind me if you know what I'm sayin).
Anyhow this only proves that we are born sexy. It's in our blood and bones. The smart girls, the lucky girls, are girls like you who realize that and milk it for all it's worth. Being sexy and knowing what to do with that surpasses anything else that is offered.
XX
Dimpled thighs? Oh man, now I'm completely turned off...
Riiight. Who am I kiddin', you're a sexual icon is what you are.
They are not THAT dimpled! Just not 18-year-old girl smooth anymore.
Crap. Now I feel like I should post an HNT to make up for the dimpling comment.
Well, if you feel the pressure to post, I won't complain.
I'm sure whatever your thighs look like they are probably quite delicious and I wouldn't take my tongue off them for a moment. =)
Knowing that you have ever so slightly dimpled thighs and childbearing stretch marks makes you hotter than ever, in my opinion
I can *so* completely relate. It's always the quiet ones...the ones that no one suspects. :)
But you do have your delicious fun, while everyone else is preoccupied with being the perfect model of a Stepford wife (without the robotic-hot sex).
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