Posted by Anonymous on 2016/09/01 under Uncategorized I think I needed something a little outside reality. A secret. An escape. A release. Fantasy, untouched by the rest of my reality. Something that doesn’t exist outside the moment. If a moment could be caught in amber…but it’s not. It’s more as if it never existed. Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? When he comes over…the dream starts, immediately. The moments leading up to it are filled with adrenaline, nervousness. The sweet tinge of arousal and knowing I can only imagine what is to come. When we go somewhere to drink or to hang out, it feels so surreal. Because someone like him couldn’t possibly be out here with me. But he is. I still don’t really believe it. That I’m ‘at his level’. Maybe I’ve been setting my sights too low. The fact remains I believe myself not quite worthy, and that’s what makes it so exciting. Then feeling his heat when he closes in on me. Every time, I’ve been caught by surprise. The hovering, or closeness, and then suddenly he’s so close. His kisses slow, with huge breaks, my heart pounding. I feel I can’t touch him. Wrap my arms around him or grab his hair – I haven’t. I’m not playing coy, I AM coy. I don’t lead until he’s inside me, or until we’re naked. By now I’ve become comfortable with his member, with how he moves. The chemistry of the sex is undeniable, and volatile. Of course, he’s f***ing hung. (Of course. As if he wouldn’t be.) Maybe it’s just finding someone who sees sex the way I do. I’ve always been in serious relationships. The sex means a lot. The sex is always incredible. But there’s an element of…recreation in this. Not because we’re touchy feely, because it’s fun and it feels great. It’s a good time. It took me a long time to realize that isn’t shallow, it’s just what it is. I don’t really have feelings for this guy. I just like spending time. I enjoy going out. I can’t get enough of the sex, or the drugs. He fulfills every guilty pleasure. I’ve even tried new substances under his gaze. I’ve gotten to indulge in things I only dreamed of. He’s good with handcuffs (and feet, for that matter). He knows how to spank. He knows how to f***; my god, does he ever. And I melt when he groans for me. Says my name. In that bewildered tone. The hand across my face; it stings, but it brings out the tiger in me. I don’t hold back. We screw until I’m sore, or until he’s spent. For hours…all night; he’ll wake me in the morning by yanking me to him, I feel his heat and firm body; my sober mind reels. I love how strong he is. He lifts me off the floor sometimes, lowers me onto the bed without a tremor, can pound me with endurance I’ve only seen in myself. I mean; he’s even made me cum just screwing me. And on top of it all he loves to go down. Pleasures paramount. I say affair because that’s what it feels like. No one but me and him know. His roommate, maybe, only because he lives in the same house. But it’s eating me up. It feels so unbelievable that I have to share it somewhere. No, I don’t WANT anyone to know, but I don’t usually keep secrets. I need to share by bewilderment; explain it. Talk about it. This is a first for me, hooking up like this. It is, in my mind, a new ‘affair’.