Thus we’ve moved to this.

All those moments we dared to test our chaste vows: You knowing my hunger by the quickening of my breath, the beating of my heart against your chest, the fire of my cunt against the thigh you shoved into the folds of my skirt. Desperate to keep your secret, even in those heated moments, you never dared press full against me.

A twofold agony for you: Wanting me just as much. Needing to fuck me the way a real man fucks a real woman. Aching for the tight clench of hot cunt around a fully formed cock. Yet always knowing that this would be experience forever denied you. And thus….me. Always knowing you could never fuck the woman you love, lying wantonly and wickedly beneath you.

Dreading—even as you respond in your very small way to the feminine scent of my arousal that is so upon you, filling your nostrils, inflaming your need—that I might in frenzied abandon forcefully shove against you. Skirt to trousers, pelvis to pelvis, crotch to crotch. Hastening the disaster that looms in our future: My pending discovery of your own sad inadequacy.

And here we are in this encapsulated instant.

You watch my face: Idolizing the hunger, the desire you see there, as your fumble with the zipper of your fly. No backward movement here……no escape. And you know it.

You watch my face. Cherishing my ignorance of that forever-held breath, that angel of disappointment that hovers about us ready to pounce. You see her. Your first love. She who can only be your true love. And you know it.

The dark angel who has taunted you in the lone dark as you cupped your incompleteness. After all, only a few brief strokes needed for such paucity. Did you hear her laughter? . Did you hear her whispered taunts as you squirted your scant bit of goo in a brief spasm of nasty relief?

Did she warn you? Did she tell you what you already knew? That revelation would steal away this countenance of desire before you.

I lick my lips. You see the brush of perspiration above them, knowing the hunger that causes it is about to be replaced with disgust, perhaps pity.

Your clammy fingers, slipping, sliding.

I blink my eyes.

Impatiently I whisper, “Hurry. Show me, darling.”

“Show me!”

Exasperated, I reach out to help.

“Now, darling. Now!”

I hurriedly pull down the zipper and grab inside.

I look up at you.


You hear the dark angel snicker.