Social Sway by Anita Hotty - WordPress.com

Begging for his rturntorturingsI raise my smell to my lips and inhale. Never have I known my stenchto be so heavenly. My unlicensed husband used to wear my odorupon his face. I loved that. But he left me. I gave him my wornunderwear as a token of my affection. He left me his full of holes. Iscent myself to feel emotions so sad. I yearn for his return ~but notall the time...My secret ploy is one so unordinary that most could not understand.I long for the ways he would devour my sexuality, and with timepassed have come to appreciate the ways he would say anything toconvince my legs to spread. So I have invited him to my home withthe offer of videoed play. “We can make money,” I say, “doing thething we most love.”No words can I justifiably express as I repeat the gesture. Smells likefish. Tastes like chicken. Mine mesmerizes more alluring. Perhapsa lingering metallic taste converted olfactory, blended tuna, gluedsubtly hide eu LePage? The scent of a woman. How I wish myselfdeep against his face as we used to love one another those memoriesago.Before I came to my lonely keys, for they are all I have now, I wasvivid in my bed. My eyes closed and heart calling. My funk came tobe as I remembered our nightstand one wife and how she juiced herlips along the slide of his raw erection. Visions so free, my tonguerapidly tapped side to side as luscious bulbs pricked my lips. I sawmyself watching – telling him what I wanted him to do, as I lopsidedlyrubbed against the bone of my clit.I have had many a man call him a fool. But they are all fools themselves.For so very few take the effort to lavish a lady. Do they open doorsanymore? Date us romantically in our living rooms? “Where have allthe gentlemen gone?” I chime them melodied.I came from a moment alone, rubbing at my lady, calling out for himto devour her vagina and love her ass realistically – from the floodingslide that horned my fingers forth and back diagonal. I am dreamedinto the ways he once loved my continuous waterfall supply. Now Iinhale myself skinned animal.“Not only did he leave me once. He left me twice,” and “He defineshimself: asshole.” These are the lines I say. These are the lines I use inmy agony to escape his hold over me. Our pattern is one hardFAIL 131