I’m No Good At Aiming

Unicorn: I love the way you look at me with your hand wrapped around my cock. It’s amazing.

I’m smirking at my computer as I read his line of text, recalling our earlier adventure.  I remember the look well.

It was the look of pure power.  I had him. Right where I wanted him.  In that moment I was everything to him.  Sex.  Is. So. Powerful.

And I do it well.  I mean, to be fair, most women are pretty good at looking at their men lustfully when their hands are wrapped around their junk.  But there’s usually something sweeter behind it.  A sweet longing.  When I’m on fire- there is nothing sweet about it.  It’s primal. It’s dark.  And if you’re smart you can see past the lust to the game.  The power. The seduction. The high. It’s there.  Make me whole. Make you whole. Give me everything.  Om nom.

I’m not sure if Unicorn is privy to all of that. I think on some level he is.  My energy seeps out through every fiber of my being and onto him.  It’s nearly tangible.  That’s my craft.  Creating an atmosphere of seduction.

I love it. So very much. I love getting him high.  It makes me high.

I faked the most brilliant orgasm today. Like really, I deserve an Oscar for that one.  (I often fake the big O- because sometimes it’s just fucking easier.) I don’t mean I went all out with shrieks and proclamations of “Oh dear sweet Jesus YESSSS I’m COMMMMMMMMMMMMMINGGGGGG”.  I played small.  Short panting.  Leaning into him. Feeling his eyes on me.  Watching me get close.  I feel his smile.  His want to please me.  mmmmMMmm. Delicious.

I can’t wait to get my mouth wrapped around him. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s had a fantastic blowjob.  I mean, technically, they could have a wild sex life. I wouldn’t know.  His wife certainly does seem like the type.  But somehow I doubt it. I think she’s too busy fucking someone else- or too busy being wrapped up in her little universe to care at all about his pleasure.  Honestly, I think she kind of resents him.  But it’s okay- if she won’t do it- someone else will.

And that someone is me.


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