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When she comes home after her date, often later than she thought, I’m always waiting, pretending to look casual, but my chest tightens the second I see her.
There’s something different about it… After she’s been out with a hot man. I know she’s carrying secrets that I can’t touch.
When she leans in to kiss me, she makes sure I can feel it before I taste it… The heat of someone else still lingering on her breath. It’s a reminder of where she’s been and who she has been with. Most people would flinch, but I don’t. My knees almost give out. She’s the kind who gives blowjobs for her fun.
That smell, that flavor, it hits me in waves. It’s proof that she was wanted, proof that she was taken. And she shares it with me like it’s nothing, like I’m supposed to just swallow it down along with the kiss.
And I do. Gladly.
Because nothing makes me feel more alive, more tethered to her, than being the one who kisses her after. I really love her choice in men. I feel like I’m the luckiest man alive lol.
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