I love a whore.
This morning, I brought her coffee. We fucked like mad. We kissed, long, passionate, wet, naked. My tongue explored the soft and hard parts of her mouth. I kissed her eyelids. I pretended I was a teenage boy and she was my girlfriend and we were fucking and kissing in the back seat of my car behind a movie theater when I came inside her (covered, of course).
--Make love to me.
--I am.
She came while I was just kissing her.
She infects my mind. Not quite as much as my wife. (Who, lucky dog, I also made love to this morning before my date with the whore.) But a lot.
At first, I told myself she couldn’t possibly share these feelings. It was an act, a very good one. In fact, I questioned whether my own feelings were real or simply the illusion produced by orgasms, endorphins and aromatherapy.
But she does. It’s mutual.
And so, we dance on the head of a pin. Somehow, we have maintained this dance for more than a year. At times it's invigorating. The kind of thing BMM talked about, getting a hard-on just thinking about being with her (in fact, that happened this morning on the way to her place.) So far, I have never reached a point where it has driven me mad.
She loves other men. Some more than me, I’m sure. I hope. I love my wife more than I love her. Tit for tat.
I worry about her, though. If something happened to her, it would wreck me. Fucking wreck me. I need her, I think. Yes, I definitely need her. I at least need for her to be safe and happy and sane and alive. I need that in this world. And I am a person who has always tried very hard not to need anything from anyone.
I am certain that dozens of men have felt some trace of what I feel for her. A handful have probably felt more, or become more deeply involved. Would I if I could? I do not know the answer. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Does she really love me? Is she acting? Is hers one of those award-winning performances? I've thought about this a lot, and have come to the conclusion that it does not matter. I don't believe she is, but perception is reality. She shows flashes of acting, role playing really, moves familiar as grooves in the pavement that are part of the character she's 'in' when she's with any guy. Yet, what does that matter? I suspect that these parts of her are as deeply ingrained in her persona as the parts I see when the mask is off.
Would I leave my wife for her? I have thought about it in flashes. I haven’t the courage to act on it and I don't think she'd want that. It might be impossible to be with her, just because of our mutual natures. Might.
So, I’m out. It can be done. And, if you can pull it off, it’s great. But are you really prepared to exist in a permanent state of in-between?
Aside from that, are you honestly prepared to let her be her? I mean, you have to be. Can you handle that? Other guys’ cocks in her, day in, day out. Ten, fifteen times a week? Huh? Can you? Are you really going to try to take that away from her? How fucking arrogant of you. Can you deal with the fact that you cannot possibly fill her void, and still love her nonetheless?
So, good luck out there. If you want to find this kind of relationship with a hooker, I hope you have great success. It can be great, but it will test you.
Just recognize that you could be fucking her later today. And I’m out here, in love with her, hoping she’s safe with you. You could be me, not thinking about it. And wondering how long this dance will last.
I love a whore. It's great. It's not for everyone.
This morning, I brought her coffee. We fucked like mad. We kissed, long, passionate, wet, naked. My tongue explored the soft and hard parts of her mouth. I kissed her eyelids. I pretended I was a teenage boy and she was my girlfriend and we were fucking and kissing in the back seat of my car behind a movie theater when I came inside her (covered, of course).
--Make love to me.
--I am.
She came while I was just kissing her.
She infects my mind. Not quite as much as my wife. (Who, lucky dog, I also made love to this morning before my date with the whore.) But a lot.
At first, I told myself she couldn’t possibly share these feelings. It was an act, a very good one. In fact, I questioned whether my own feelings were real or simply the illusion produced by orgasms, endorphins and aromatherapy.
But she does. It’s mutual.
And so, we dance on the head of a pin. Somehow, we have maintained this dance for more than a year. At times it's invigorating. The kind of thing BMM talked about, getting a hard-on just thinking about being with her (in fact, that happened this morning on the way to her place.) So far, I have never reached a point where it has driven me mad.
She loves other men. Some more than me, I’m sure. I hope. I love my wife more than I love her. Tit for tat.
I worry about her, though. If something happened to her, it would wreck me. Fucking wreck me. I need her, I think. Yes, I definitely need her. I at least need for her to be safe and happy and sane and alive. I need that in this world. And I am a person who has always tried very hard not to need anything from anyone.
I am certain that dozens of men have felt some trace of what I feel for her. A handful have probably felt more, or become more deeply involved. Would I if I could? I do not know the answer. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Does she really love me? Is she acting? Is hers one of those award-winning performances? I've thought about this a lot, and have come to the conclusion that it does not matter. I don't believe she is, but perception is reality. She shows flashes of acting, role playing really, moves familiar as grooves in the pavement that are part of the character she's 'in' when she's with any guy. Yet, what does that matter? I suspect that these parts of her are as deeply ingrained in her persona as the parts I see when the mask is off.
Would I leave my wife for her? I have thought about it in flashes. I haven’t the courage to act on it and I don't think she'd want that. It might be impossible to be with her, just because of our mutual natures. Might.
So, I’m out. It can be done. And, if you can pull it off, it’s great. But are you really prepared to exist in a permanent state of in-between?
Aside from that, are you honestly prepared to let her be her? I mean, you have to be. Can you handle that? Other guys’ cocks in her, day in, day out. Ten, fifteen times a week? Huh? Can you? Are you really going to try to take that away from her? How fucking arrogant of you. Can you deal with the fact that you cannot possibly fill her void, and still love her nonetheless?
So, good luck out there. If you want to find this kind of relationship with a hooker, I hope you have great success. It can be great, but it will test you.
Just recognize that you could be fucking her later today. And I’m out here, in love with her, hoping she’s safe with you. You could be me, not thinking about it. And wondering how long this dance will last.
I love a whore. It's great. It's not for everyone.