“Just call me when you’re on the way.”
This is the text I get from my ex. My off and on headache. Father to the many kids we’ve discarded in condoms....and other body parts. My kryptonite. He’s so fucking arrogant but it’s so damn sexy to me! I hate that about myself. This man has total control over my vagina and it’s sickening! I hate his guts but oh how I love when his penis is deep in my guts! Sigh.
We’re horrible for each other. We know this. We know we’ll never be together and we’re not even trying at this point. But our private parts haven’t received the memo. It’s so complicated but we’re okay with it. He knows I’m at my girlfriend’s party, so he knew I’d be intoxicated. Weak enough to answer his text with the usual “cool.” And the sad thing about all of this is, I’m going to cut my girl’s party short just to go ride my favorite piece of meat!
“I’m on my way, have my drink ready!”
“Bet. What kind of panties are you wearing?”
“Panties? I wouldn’t dare mess up this dress!”
“That’s my girl! See you in a bit.”
We’re so nice to each other when we want to fuck. Any other time, we’d be hollering, hanging up, calling back, hollering, hanging up, calling back...!
As soon as we see each other, it’s intense kissing! The type of affection you see in the movies. The man is great in this area, let me tell you! He reached his hands up my thighs and started gently massaging my clit. I’m usually a take charge woman in the bedroom, but something about Jordan; I allow him to take total control over my mind, body, soul and definitely my vagina. Always.