(I crave a love that drowns oceans)

-K.Azizian

Sometimes I think of us having a child, a boy, with curly hair like mine, lips and nose too, but your beautiful and soulful eyes. A yummy chocolate, almost magical.

How will that happen you say, Shy? Well, that's the easy part. After I give you my love letter, you will be bewitched mind and body. You wouldn't be able to resist asking me out on a date. A proper date, with dinner, and conversation. some handholding too, maybe. I am the one in the black dress, scooped neck, a shadow of tits, nothing too revealing yet promising a good time.

We eat, like actually eat. You love wine, so do I. We drink a whole bottle of the finest Cabernet Sauvignon. You get wine, I am impressed. And intrigued. You wear your pastel blue shirt, a deep blue suit. Midway through dinner, you remove your coat and cuff your sleeves till your elbows. I could see your fingers, the veins popping on your arms, the beautiful spray of fine hair. You fingers look gentle, long, and sure. Like they would not fumble when holding my face. Or when intertwined with my fingers. My black nail polish is suggestive. Does he get it? I look exquisite, sparkling in gold and red, and black. Its irresistible really, my aura.

Desserts? We get them, two for both of us, and for sharing. I get a cheesecake with a fruit compote. You get an old-fashioned chocolate cake. I take a bit from yours first, savouring the dense ganache. Then I take a bite of my cheesecake, fruity and tarty, creamy and mouth melting.

Are you readers wondering whether we do the 'my place, your place game'? We don't. He takes me by my lower back and seats me in the passenger seat of his BMW sedan, raw midnight blue like his suit. He swings close the door and gets into the driver's seat. His arms looked practised in his grip on the wheels. He knows the road. We ARE going to his place. I am sure of it.

Am I prepared for this moment? He has been my closest confidant these last few short years. We have an unpredictable and uncomfortable intimacy, somewhat of a comforting enigma. Lets leave it at that.

Mindfulness activated; I look around myself. The buildings, houses, fields and barren land are swooping past us. The rush of air is strong and breezy. He drives fast, but not irresponsibly. He somehow has a sense about his way. Should I talk?

'You have a nice car', I say, the 'seat hugs me passionately'. He laughs, says thanks, but doesn't elaborate or boast further. Neither fishes for more compliments.

'I couldn't keep my eyes off of you tonight. I might be driving, but you are in my peripheral vision. I can breathe your scent. Vanilla, with something floral and fresh. A slight musk as well'. He says all this in one breath, not faltering one word. Says it without any pretensions.

I gasp a little, silently. Blush. I feel a block in my chest, a nervous tightening. But I don't seem to mind it. I want him to probe, to notice, to make me feel desired, make me feel like his boo. The blush warmth spreads across the nape of my neck. My face feels hot.

Emboldened by his revelation, I believe he should know what I think of him. 'I like you Shy, like really like you. Everything about you really, whatever I know until now. Your charm is natural and subtle. It creeps over me. And I love that'.

'I want you to hold me, pressed against you desperately. I have wanted you for so long. It never seemed like the right time, but somewhere between right or wrong, there is a garden. We meet there'. And now we are here, together, able to hold hands and kiss and fuck, I mull.

'We should discuss some boundaries. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I have a complicated fiasco going on with my wife. We are separated, but there are some loose ends to be tied', he spits out gruffly.

'I will not be with anyone else, I can promise you that. I just might not be available all the time, physical presence and all. But I will be around and be yours. I am sort of done with the roaming about town and having something meaningless'.

'So, you want an answer to that?' I ask. What was I supposed to say to that. I appreciated his honesty. It was something I liked, in my core. However, it was confusing. I'll be around, but not. Here, yet not always. That was some weird language to use.

I said that 'it was a kind of a sad proposal. It wasn't all or nothing. It was something in between. A shade of darker white'. But, his candidness did me in. turnt me around. 'Yes', I replied, rather excitedly. Maybe it will be fun. I could feel his latent magnetism in my gut. It wasn't difficult to lose myself in a twilight zone with him, a bubble of phantasmagoria. I had had various, almost too many to count fantasies about him.

Pulling my hair, slipping my thick black dress up. My stockings are pushed down. My panties slit apart to one side, the area moist and swelling with an ache. He swipes his fingers across it, taking some wetness with him. He licks it, then put two fingers in my mouth, spreading them apart.

I moan in my throat, move my tongue over his fingers, sucking hard at them. I can feel his hardness through the front of his trousers. They tease me, push past my back. Slide across my pussy. He isn't afraid to stain them. He wants my love, all around him, to breathe it in.

He pushes me further down the counter. Its cold and hard, but I scarcely feel it. He slips a finger into my pussy, digging deep down. It's a surprise. I didn't see it coming. They probe my insides, wet and slippery. He starts a slow rhythm, pulsating over my clit and over my upper lips. I could come like this. I want him to fuck me, feel his dick.

I have a feeling it will be big, hot and long. He is tall after all, and his feet look big sized. I want it to penetrate me, push past without asking. Ride me like a bitch. His bitch.

He unzips himself, and I snake my hands around his front. My back is still facing him, he wouldn't let me face him. Maybe he likes my ass, I think lovingly. I put my hands over and under his underwear, releasing his dick. I immediately take it inside my pussy, asking him to move gently and slowly.

I haven't had sex in over a couple months. And it means something, when I am this close to, and intimate with Shy. This did not happen easily. Fate played a rather huge part. And I wanted to make the most of it. Remember everything, and nothing. Smells, tastes, touch and all love points of humanness. Imprint it into my head, forget nothing, ever.

Would he remember as well. I am sure he wouldn't forget entirely. He will replay some parts, when he was close to coming, when I moaned, when he clasped my neck with his fingers, tight and erotic.

He is throbbing with a rhythm now. Slow movements of pushing and pulling. Gentle, yet firm. An assertive push towards the deep end, a signal that I was his, for now. I can't form coherent sentences in my head. It is all a mix of feelings and emotions, and a blue mist of thoughts. I could feel a flutter, like butterflies. Not in my stomach, but in my pussy. My loins feel heavy and full. I was having enough, more than I could bear. I could feel a ripeness forming, with the constant thumping shoves.

'Ah', I said. 'Could you please go slower'. He pulls out, without warning. Heart beating, I wait for a hint on what is next. He takes me to his bedroom. I am pleasantly surprised. The walls are plush and teal. Blue like the ocean when calm. His sheets were white, a creamy feel to them. The quilt was white as well. I could imagine snuggling in them with him. The sheets tangled between our legs. I wanted to lie next to him. head on his shoulders, me on the right side of the bed. my body wrapped around his torso and legs, adding a weight to him, the pressure of my presence. Solid, comforting and captivating.

I remove my dress, pulling it over my head. I am in my stockings and black underwear. I did not wear a bra, having petite breasts. They could fill Shy's hands, the nipples engorging against his palm. I go to kiss him, unbuttoning him as hurriedly as possible. He was unzipped, and I went after his belt. He helps me with them. I throw them over the cream couch. I unbutton his dress trousers, his black tight underwear peaking from the side.

I pull his trousers down, push him towards the bed and remove them precisely. I unroll his socks over his feet. I am attentive. I hook one finger over his underwear and put my mouth on his tip. Tastes salty and earthy. Warm and sweet. It plunges further down my throat. His hands are enmeshed in my hair, my face going deeper into his crotch. I can feel the hair, against my cheeks.

I think blushing how I haven't shaved as well. Well, I am trimmed to be honest, but I do have a bushy cushy pussy. How it would slap against his scrotum, when I would fuck him from top, my legs wrapped around his waist, asking him to shoot his babies in me, cream pie me, fill me with his warm slutty cum.

I am still on his dick, my ass pointed upwards for his view, stockings and underwear and all. Lolli-popping his dick is fun. It's very hard, almost hurtful to my throat, making me use more and more saliva as it grows. He jerks my face up, tugging my hair back. He drags me by the hair to the bed, shoving my over the quilt, wrapping my legs over his shoulder, my anklet against his neck, tinkling lightly as he fucks me hard. He tugs at my nipples. I almost die with how good this feels. He is ruthless now, the gentleness gone and the passion radiating.

His hands are on my breasts, massaging them teasingly. I gasp deep breaths. Its Shy, after all. How could we have reached this stage. How were it possible in this universe that he was seeding me, in this reality, where we were in a transactional relationship, which has devolved into a pile of clothes now.

He moans my name, 'S, I want you so badly'. Does he need me when he says my name? Or is it all bullshit. But I believe in Shy, I know he would do anything for me. He is into me, and in his inner world, I know that means a lot. There is an intensity to him, he makes me feel like I am the only one he is seeing. As though we were the only people in the world. Corny, yet true.

Unexpectedly, he flips me over, his hand and dick searching to be sucked into my insides. It's found, sliding easily. He wouldn't go slow anymore. He was about to reach his pinnacle. His hands moved over my face, my lips, my mouth, squeezed my neck, tugged at my breasts and glided to my clit. Over and over, it swiped, going a bit deeper into the upper lips. I can't handle fingers and his dick inside me. I can feel a convulsion in my body. He dick is slipping out, that's how much I am shaking.

It crashes as a wave would. The ripples washing over me in vibrations. I am all moans, screams, and tears. It stings, how raw I feel.

I have come undone, Shy. How have you managed to do this. You are coming undone as well. Its so romantic and dramatic, a world of our own making. Asking you to come in me, I feel you glowing, approving my consent. He starts mercilessly snapping against my ass, spanking me to redness. Tugging my hair, palms cupped on my breasts.

'Daddy, I want you to cum in me'. 'Shy, my love, fuck me hard. Harder'. He listens, really listens, and does whatever he can to hurt me pleasurably.

Whispers reach his ears. 'Make me your wife, fill me up till I am yours alone, stained and purified by you. Leave a mark, strong enough to stick. I am yours now, right'.

These words have their desired effect on him. He shakes to bits, making me cry out in pain, reducing himself to my bidding, saying my name over and over again till he groans.

It spills out a little, a white fluid I am full of. It sticks on his dick as well. I want to lick it off. Suck it as I would an ice cream. Vanilla and strawberry cheesecake. Maybe, a bit of chocolate as well.

As I suck it off, he cups my chin, raises me to his level, and tongues me all over and inside my mouth. He says, 'oh, god, oh, god', as if asking for some forgiveness. He doesn't let me go. He is smiles, bubbling over joy. I am still pushed to his chest and legs, waking up on this day of _____, 2025.