1. Mindfuckers and the fucked: choose your side


    Date: 10/21/2014, Categories: Fiction, Author: Alpha_Male_NY, Rating: 0, Source: sexstories.com

    they knew something wasn't right, why did she choose to come to the local bar. This is the last time they see my face around here. I found her in my bed, on all fours, facing the door I came in. I inhaled deeply, the scene was morbid, my heart was pounding, racing. I had gone to the bar, spent time with a hooker and these two were still at it. She told me, he was a much better lover: stronger, bigger, lasted more, was far more dominant, fucked her different every time. Not the usual hopping on top of her, and convulsing over her, until orgasm, then fall asleep, oblivion. She felt empty and I knew, I wanted more too. I wanted to go out and mingle, to have a few beers with friends, flirt with all the cute strangers, misbehave from time to time. She wanted the same. It had always been the case, but you just never get used to it. No matter how open you feel and live, there will always be boundaries to cross, other women to fuck and then maybe posterity. Who cares? She isn't your property. Lend your car, it's less headaches this way. You both know each other. There are far more important issues at stake than just feelings. You need to know that passion and lust wane in time; but that's not a reason to throw away all the things you forged so far together. If you learn to truly let go, then you must do away with anger and all the feelings it conjures: sadness, violence, abuse, sorrow, jealousy, regret, betrayal, indifference, all springing from the unfathomable ego. Imagine a world ...
    without jealousy. This is also more a prospect the minute you stop doubting your lover, give them plenty of space, we're all grown up. She's not your mommy; quit it. The Ego says, "You should own your woman." You can only own yourself, exert self-control, no matter what others think of it. In any situation, you find yourself in, there you are! It's best to know yourself, what you're capable of, where your loyalties lie, who you are by continuing to be without her and who you'll become once this period of grief hisses by. We all hurt, and I won't mask my pain... it hurts being without her, but hurt more being with her. Ana's mother, Anabel, had migrated from a ravished land in Middle America, crossed the dessert into the States and met Milo at a bar restaurant where she worked as a waitress. Anabel had gone out with several men before, had slept around discreetly, fishing, until she met and soon thereafter married Milo. A few years later, she had an affair and left Milo, but got back when she was pregnant with Ana. Ana, polygamous as the mother who deserted her when she was five, grew up to follow in her footsteps and hopped from relationship to relationship until she arrived at my office. She had lived with her dad, Milo, in a small one bedroom apartment in Queens, N.Y. That was before her real dad, Geronimo, took her to live with him. He had dreamed of raising that girl as if it were his and have her call him dad, but Geronimo didn't find it proper for his daughter to grow ...
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