Lost in You
Need
''What happened to your room, sweetie? Did someone come to steal all of your precious possessions from you? Do I need to call the police, honey?''
If only she was aware of what truly did happen, and not only the end of the result. I can't imagine what her reaction would be if she learned that the only thing that was stolen from me last night was every bit of innocence that I had left in me. I can't even imagine what her reaction would be to the things that happened all over my apartment last night. The only thing I can think about now is the memory of the night before.
For each broken object lying on the floor, I remember exactly in which state we were when we knocked them over. I remember perfectly well if we were kissing or more when the tragedy happened. I remember how after two/three objects thrown on the ground, I didn't care at all what was happening to them, the only thing I could care about was how bad I needed to have his cock buried in the place that looks reserved just for it, in my ass. I didn't care what we would push over, or how expensive what we broke was. I just had one goal; to feel his cock deep inside of me.
But how can I explain to my mom that the over one thousand dollars that she got me as a birthday gift, two weeks before, got knocked onto the ground when my lover, that she isn't aware of the existence of, pushed into me? I was trying to keep my balance by touching the TV, but it did the reverse of what I wanted to happen. He trusted a little too fast for the strange set-up we were in and I fell right into the TV, and of course it fell on the ground, with me on the top. At that moment, I didn't care at all. I just pushed his beautiful gift of nature deeper inside of me, to take all the pain away, and it did so much that we forgot about the broken glass covering the floor.
Later on during the night, every frame that I had hung, all of the ones that didn't include me and him in them, went to join the TV, as well as the furniture that we couldn't make love on.
No matter how much my mom is freaking out how my apartment looks like this morning, last night was the best night of my life. It was the first night that I was able to make love with the love of my life and truly be able to call him my husband.
If only she was aware of what truly did happen, and not only the end of the result. I can't imagine what her reaction would be if she learned that the only thing that was stolen from me last night was every bit of innocence that I had left in me. I can't even imagine what her reaction would be to the things that happened all over my apartment last night. The only thing I can think about now is the memory of the night before.
For each broken object lying on the floor, I remember exactly in which state we were when we knocked them over. I remember perfectly well if we were kissing or more when the tragedy happened. I remember how after two/three objects thrown on the ground, I didn't care at all what was happening to them, the only thing I could care about was how bad I needed to have his cock buried in the place that looks reserved just for it, in my ass. I didn't care what we would push over, or how expensive what we broke was. I just had one goal; to feel his cock deep inside of me.
But how can I explain to my mom that the over one thousand dollars that she got me as a birthday gift, two weeks before, got knocked onto the ground when my lover, that she isn't aware of the existence of, pushed into me? I was trying to keep my balance by touching the TV, but it did the reverse of what I wanted to happen. He trusted a little too fast for the strange set-up we were in and I fell right into the TV, and of course it fell on the ground, with me on the top. At that moment, I didn't care at all. I just pushed his beautiful gift of nature deeper inside of me, to take all the pain away, and it did so much that we forgot about the broken glass covering the floor.
Later on during the night, every frame that I had hung, all of the ones that didn't include me and him in them, went to join the TV, as well as the furniture that we couldn't make love on.
No matter how much my mom is freaking out how my apartment looks like this morning, last night was the best night of my life. It was the first night that I was able to make love with the love of my life and truly be able to call him my husband.