MILF: Risque Intentions Read Free Page B

we both needed the moment to last as long as possible. It was one incredibly passionate, drawn-out goodbye that would need to last us a lifetime.
    He used his hands and tongue to tease my body for what felt like an hour before the head of his penis finally teased my entrance.
    “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, pressing his lips against my ears. The weight of him on top of my chest felt incredible. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed up into him, trying to use my legs to force him inside. He wasn’t budging. “Tell me,” he repeated.
    “Fuck me. Please fuck me.”
    With one hard thrust his entire length was inside of me. Expecting our usual pace, I bucked against his hips, but he stayed put. He waited for me to relax before beginning again at a place so slow and agonizing that I lost all sense of comprehension. All I could think about was getting him to fuck me harder and faster. I dug my nails into his back and my heels into his thighs and he gradually picked up the pace. He kept on like this for a good several moments before neither of us could hold out any longer. He was only about three hard, fast thrusts in when I came the first time. The sensation of him driving into me over and over to the rhythm of my own orgasm had me right at the edge and ready to burst again in no time at all.
    “Fuck, you’re incredible,” I told him. This encouraged him and soon we were back up to our normal speed. The vibrations and the intensity felt familiar and new all at once. He was coming before I knew it and I right alongside him. He collapsed on top of me and I held him close, stroking his hair and nuzzling him with my cheek. It was that moment, after, that was the most precious and meaningful. As beautiful as the entire tryst had been, it was finally over. I felt like one weight was lifted off of my shoulders and another dropped right back down.
    “You know, it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker to see you walk down that aisle in a couple of weeks.”
    “Yeah? Well imagine going home to nuptials with Marco while all I can think about is you giving it to some lucky, idiotic bridesmaid.” Blaise picked his head up to look at me, a thoughtful look in his eye.
    “What if we don’t have to worry about that?” he asked. “Like, what if, just for that night, we promise to stay away from other people. Just, like, pretend to get so drunk you pass out before sex. Or get so drunk you pass out before sex. And I won’t go home with anyone. And after that night we aren’t obligated to be in the same building, much less see one another with anyone else and so we’ll never have to be bothered by those thoughts again.” His drunken explanation made me giggle, but I nodded.
    “Yeah, sure. Okay. That sounds like a plan to me.”
    So, on my wedding day, I drank everything I could get my hands on and avoided my husband’s kisses and affections as much as possible whenever laise was around (which was always). I tried not to check to see if her flirted with other girls, but I did check and he didn’t. I watched him drive home alone and then Marco and I went home to our hotel where I promptly threw up in his shoes and passed out in my wedding dress. It was a perfect arrangement. It was exactly the kind of open-ended closure that I needed. Though I would think about Blaise often during my marriage, I was never discontent about what he might be doing. I knew that if he was with someone else, he was imagining me alone ignoring Marco. And I knew that when I was with Marco, I was imagining him in his apartment alone having opted not to bring the cute girl home from the bar because of me.
    Though it was a silly illusion, it was one that kept me sane. On the odd occasion that we were forced to be around each other, we maintained our silent vow to be loyal to each other, even if it was just make-believe. When he rejected a smiling waitress or a busty bar patron, I would smile like an idiot. And when I would ignore Marco to engage in