I’m alone when my husband falls asleep next to me every night. Our bedroom becomes dark and stuffy. He breathes deeply and evenly, but his body has become like a wall separating us. And I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, and feel everything inside me begin to vibrate with anticipation.
It started six months ago, completely by accident. I saw a video in my feed. It lasted only a few seconds: dark skin glistening with sweat, muscular shoulders, a deep voice. I closed the video, but that sexy image was seared into my memory. Now it comes to me on its own, especially at night.
I imagine him tall, like a basketball player, with broad shoulders and that predatory, confident smirk that sends shivers down my spine. His eyes are dark, piercing, full of sexual desire. He doesn’t mince words: he grabs my hair, pulls my head back exposing my neck, and sinks his lips into my skin leaving bruises that I later hide under a scarf.
In my fantasy, he pins me against the cold kitchen wall. His large, rough hands grip my wrists above my head holding them in place with one hand, while the other slides down my body. I feel the texture of his skin so hot and contrasting with my pale one. He whispers in a hoarse voice: «Do you want this? Do you want me to fuck you?» The words are rough and commanding making my heart pound like crazy. His fingers roughly spread my thighs slipping under my skirt, and I’m already wet. My panties stick to my skin, and moisture runs down the inside of my thighs.
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