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Writer's pictureMisty Rampart

More - Riding My Bull Part Two

Updated: Jun 23

“Wake up,” I heard a voice say. It was him. Mo.


“I’m sorry, I must’ve…”


“Gonna go workout,” he said, “wanna come? I can get you in.”


“I don’t have anything to wear,” I said.


“I can grab you some shorts and a T-shirt. That oughta do.”


He was being kind of sweet.


“I don’t even know if I can walk after that,” I said.


He either pretended not to know to what I was referring, or he was just dumb. Or numb.


“Come with me,” he said, “I’ll hook you up.”


I found my panties and bra and followed him into the bedroom, where he dug some clothes for me out of the drawer: some running shorts and an old Mammoth Gorilla T-Shirt.


“You like them?” I asked.


“Yeah,” he said.


He was quite a bit younger than me but apparently, we had the same taste in music.


“Thank you,” I said and leaned in to kiss him. He actually kissed me back.


“But what about my feet?” I said, “Can’t workout in heels.”


“Oh fuck,” he said, partly because he hadn’t thought about it but also because I was being that girl. The pain in the ass girl. The girl you liked to fuck but that was about it.


“Why don’t we just drop by my place,” I said, smiling. I thought I might have shoes in the trunk but I wanted to see what he would do, if he would go along with me all the way across town so I could get sneakers.


“Won’t your husband be there?” he said.


“He’s out of town, like always,” I said with an eye roll. “But you’ll have to meet him eventually, don’t you think?”


“Not if I can help it,” he said under his breath.

 

I drove us, barefooted, back to my house.


“Coming in?” I asked.


“Thought you were just grabbing shoes,” he said.


“Well, it’d be rude if I didn’t invite you in,” I said.

 

His powerful hands pinned my legs back as he thrust his endowment into me repeatedly. I was coming like a freak on his dick, which was covered in my creamy slime.


Finally, he pulled out and shot his load on my belly, giving his remnants a good slap after he was done. Just take that, he said without saying it. I conquer you again.


“You just…just wanted to fuck again,” he said.


“So?” I said. “You didn’t mind.”


“I think you’re corrupting me,” he said.


Was he really trying to get emotional on me? I was apparently working on him. Wearing him down. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted the big dumb insensitive meathead. That kind of dynamic was easier to navigate. I wouldn’t, couldn’t love him. I doubted I could even love anyone for real considering my history.

I rolled off the bed with him still dripping off of me and went to find a towel.


I cleaned up and went back to him where he lay on my marital bed.


“I smell like sex,” I said.


“We both do,” he said, “but don’t worry. Soon we’ll smell like sweat and sex. Grab your shoes. Let’s go.”

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