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(I am M playing FM)
“Are you almost home?” I read the text from my wife as I try my best to navigate down town traffic. I’m about to respond when I get cut off by a truck. I slam my horn and drop my phone.
“she’s coming soon.” My wife texts me again. I don’t see it until I pull into our driveway, frantic and on edge from the congestion. I run inside, bursting through the door.
“Is she here yet?” I call out, I run into the living room and get all the answer I need. You are sitting on a chair, smiling, sipping a glass of wine and hole you stroke my wife’s hair. She kneels down next to you on the fishnet outfit you no doubt chose for her. Her perky nipples peak out from underneath, the choker on her neck has your name bedazzled on it.
“Have a seat.” Your tone is devious. I sit on the floor, knowing better than to think I can sit on the couch in front of you. I don’t bother apologizing. I know you don’t care. That’s not why you’re here. You’re here because it’s Thursday night. And on Thursdays, we belong to you.
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- 11 months ago
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