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Mindfucker

Date: 10/21/2014, Categories: Fiction, BDSM, Cheating, Discipline, Female Domination, Hardcore, Author: Alpha_Male_NY, Rating: 50, Source: sexstories.com

just better at hiding their feelings. All relationships have their ups and downs, lift off and landing... especially this beautiful girl would fly me anywhere and those perks are hard to come by, so I just sat there and took it for a while. It didn't last long, but it did long enough to have a beautiful son together. Well, at least something good came out of it. As a consequence, I became convinced that from there on, I'd be on the other side of the spectrum. That is, I wanted to be the one with a girl who had a boyfriend, not the one cheated on but the one being cheated on. If you really think about it it's the same difference, but not having the title of boyfriend somehow made it seem as if you have the upper hand. It's a girl with two guys, and there really isn't a big difference whether you're or you're not the one called boyfriend. As a matter of fact, the boyfriend, if you really think about it, may end up suffering less and also be the one who ends up with her in the end. First, he may suspect something but it doesn't mean that his suspicions are well-founded. Therefore, he gets the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps his mind is overactive, she may very well be telling the truth. You, on the other hand, do not get to be fooled. You know what is going on, and she's not with you, you know for sure she is with him. You may believe in your mind that she's not having anything to do with her "boyfriend", but you know she has him in his life and he's probably going to be number ... one, no matter how good the sex is. Ignorance is bliss. One time her boyfriend called and since I was irking to punish her for having a boyfriend at all, I told her to answer him. She did, as I was inside her, and it was oh so devilishly good. I tried not to make any noises, as she spoke to him, as she went down on me, as I penetrated her softly. Afterwards, it was just crazy. We'd go at it for hours, talk about it, as we continued to get it on. "No, baby, I'm just home, doing nothing. I'm excited though, playing with myself" she'd lie, moaning freely, her arousal, her lies. I prefer it that way. It's best to be with a whore you know than a saint you can't trust. You know what to expect and everything on this end is so spontaneous, unexpected and fleeting, just like life itself. You don't know when you'll die, but you do know that you will; love is the inverse equation, you believe it'd last forever, it is eternal so long as it lasts, but even though you know it will eventually come to an end, so long as you love, it is a perennial testament to all mundane and transitory things. Existence is harsh, it doesn't offer a way out it seems, at times; love is always hopeful, kind, patient and insane. You know you're fooling yourself, but logic goes out the window; when you love, you're like a child. Everything and anything is possible. And then, when you find yourself on the skeptic side of the fence, when you're just the lover, not the loved one, you know what to expect: nothing and ...