Erotic Fiction – “The Mistress”
I don’t know what hold this guy has over me (is it an aroma from pheromones or some aura that he exudes?) but whenever he gets this close to me, I just want him so much.
It isn’t because he is young, strong and toned, because he isn’t, but that seductive air of confidence and charm peels away my defenses as though they didn’t exist. I start to yell at him “No,” but I hear myself whisper “Yes.” I make to turn and walk away, but I find my arms round his neck, feeling his breath on my neck. After that, I have no control over my body whatsoever… My body develops a will of its own, and no matter how much my brain says “Stop, this is madness” it functions independently as if controlled by another “me” living somewhere inside me, sharing my body – until now - when it shows its mastery by taking over completely.
This is not without its compensations: my conscious self is still aware of my body: the caress of his breath on my skin, the persuasiveness of his dominance and that gorgeous, deep, rich redness of the velvet space he takes me to and… ohhh yesss… that explosive firework display of colored firework display bursting in me and on me and through me before I slowly glide back to reality on a magic carpet – floating in space and time - as if waking from a gorgeous dream and a deep satisfying sleep.
But then, as soon as I decide that I want him to stay - no, need him to stay - he leaves me yet again, emptying my soul of every drop of “completeness” that he had just poured into me: leaving me with a sense of total desolation and burning desire that will slowly, but not entirely, fade away… until next time.
By Moll_E_Flanders