We’re dancing alone in my house; my echo-tap (Alexa) is serenading us with smooth jazz. I love feeling your arm around my perfect sized waist that forms my hourglass figure. It didn’t take long for the mood to become romantic. While this wouldn’t normally be worth mentioning (because it always gets hot and heavy pretty quickly when we’re together), it is tonight.

You told me on the phone that you couldn’t see me tonight because you have been bad and you need to seriously focus on your wife more. My question for you is: do you love her more because of me? Imagine I wasn’t in your life, and your cock was devoid of the attention I provide on demand.

She’s already leaving you unfulfilled as it is. Imagine how large the void in your life would be if you didn’t shelve your will power and find me. I think that I make your marriage more tolerable. She doesn’t leave you with empty balls, because she doesn’t fill them up to begin with.

When I was sitting on your lap the last time we were together you told me that in spite of her shortcomings as a partner, you’re not sure you can fuck me anymore. I disagreed, but I also understand that you are torn from time to time. Sometimes you just need time to do its magic. So I backed off and let you focus more on the overweight has-been that contracted to manage you until death do you part.

That’s why I was surprised when the doorbell rang and it was you standing before me, a bouquet of two dozen sterling-silver lavender roses in your hand. I was taken aback by the surprise of it all. I had always thought you’d be back, and while your appearance with hat in hand was appropriate and appreciated, I still thought it would take a while longer and you’d make contact with me over the phone first.

“Ashlee, I missed you,” you greet me. “I missed you too, babe.”  I warmly welcomed you into my home, but I was still a bit unsure what to expect. “I’ve missed you beautiful, Ashlee. And while I’m here because I very much want you back in my life, there are certain boundaries I cannot cross anymore.”

“Don’t talk, babe,” I say. “Just take off your pants.”

“That’s what I cannot do, Ashlee.”

“Then why are you here?” You proceed to explain that while you want to see me, hold me, talk to me, and cry with me, you cannot be romantic or sexual with me. In short, you just want to be friends.

This so won’t do. If you want me in your life, then your cock needs to be in mine.

I make several advances at you over the course of the next hour to no avail, eventually pivoting to another tactic. “Alexa, play Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh”. I greet your perplexed look with a smirk. “Care to dance with me, lover.” You’re taken aback by my calling you “lover” but it’s just dancing, so you relent.

That’s how we arrived at the scene I began this blog with. I’m in your arms, as you are embracing me tightly. We stay pressed against one another long after the song ends. My breasts are snug against your chest. My hands are rubbing up and down your back. I whisper “This feels nice, baby.”

“Yes, Ashlee. Yes, it does!” And upon hearing that, I maneuver my thigh to line up with your crotch and press myself into you. Your cock was already coming to life, but feeling my leg come for it and claim it sends the blood pumping through your veins at breakneck speed. It grows to full length and girth against the vice of our bodies. I pull my head off your shoulders and face you. Our eyes lock, we converse silently, my making it clear that I’m not letting you off easy.

My hand reaches for your pulsing erection. I squeeze it tightly through the fabric of your pants and squeeze it back and forth. You let out a moan of intense pleasure. “Now take those damn pants off already,” I order you. Moments later, we’re on my couch completely naked. I’m facing you as I ride your cock up and down. You don’t last long as my pussy muscles strangle your cock straight into submission.

You explode a geyser of hot cum inside of me.

I collapse onto you, my arms encircling your neck. We embrace again. “You’re mine babe,” I tell you.

“I know, Ashlee.” you reply.

“You are my good boy”.

You are like a boomerang; you always come back to me for phone sex.

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