Birthday Girl

I want a life I never want to take a vacation from. That’s my goal.

“Now I’m simply terrified for every woman I see you with,” I continue, “but also secretly smiling, because I know after they fake how much they love your cock in bed, they’re in the bathroom, fingering themselves to a mental image of any guy in town who’s not you.”

I realize I’ve never lived with a man who had lived on his own before me

I back up toward the door, watching her—finally having her on my bed—and I feel like I just won the fucking lottery

And I smile on the inside. He does want this. He wants me

I turn and take the hose from him, and his gaze falls to my breasts right there for him and only covered by my thin, pink lacy bra with roses on it.

I’m a girly-girl at heart, and I think he likes that

The heady fragrance fills my head, and tingles spread across my skin. It’s cheap soap, but it’s no frills, does the job, and reminds me of jeans, lumber, and the barest bristle of a five-o’clock shadow on a man’s jaw.

It’s him

Mr. Lawson is hot. He’s able, strong-bodied, and I wonder how he feels. What is he like with a woman?

What is she doing to me?

Orange Bikini isn’t the one I want jumping me.