Page 60 of Bad for Me

The one last time I get to explore the delicate features of a woman with my tongue.

I was already wet just thinking about it.

Faceless women who wore masks at my request because the intimacy was too much for me.

I guess I should make this last orgasm the best orgasm.

I laughed at my lame joke, because I hated myself more than anything right now, driving down a rainy dark road to meet ‘Ambrosia.’

That was the only thing I liked about living in Vermont; you could be in the middle of the city with friends, and in the next disappearing on a winding dirt road to the middle of nowhere.

I told Matt I’d meet with a contractor to discuss the opening of my pottery store, and as always, he cheered me on and told me how perfect everything would be.

Matt, the forever optimist.

The store was a big fat lie, though; one he’s never called me out on. My ‘day trips’ to these pottery classes mostly involved ordering coffee at my favorite café and smelling candles atTJ Maxx.And while I was initially interested in the art, my focus quickly shifted to other things—like pussy.

Along with anonymous chatrooms.

I knew things about Matt that most didn’t know, and as a married couple, it's only right that we should keep each other’s secrets.

I knew he was a sexual deviant, and he knew I fucked women.

That was when the pottery hobby came about, an effort to soothe some deep part of me that craved something so carnal and biological that I needed to funnel that energy into a love project.

It wasn’t long before I tried to figure out ways to hamper my hunger, and those things fed the thirst. What began as some very explicit chatroom sex while I sat at the computer and finger fucked myself, turned into meetings in dark rooms with strangers.

Pulling up to the small cabin in the woods, I shift my Audi into park and survey the area for any movement or cars.

There was no one in sight, just like I knew there wouldn’t be. I had owned this secluded cabin for five years—a little place to call my own when we weren’t here celebrating Christmas as a family.

I stepped out, hesitating like I always did, hoping that maybe my integrity would win out and I’d get back into my car and drive away.

It never did.

I had met with Ambrosia here before; I favored her lush ass and thick, jiggly thighs. I loved the feel of them around my head.

She’d wait inside, as instructed, the door left unlocked by me earlier today.

It sent a thrill through me, knowing she waited for me, wet and needy. Knowing that she had followed every instruction like a proper little sub.

I wore a black pencil skirt with no panties, and I could already feel the wetness on my thighs.

I was sick.

I couldn’t let that thought fuck up my night, mylastnight. I just wanted to enjoy the smells, the tastes, and the orgasms right now.

Ambrosia answered the door, adorned with aGhostfacemask like I’d asked. She lookedso fucking sexy.

I had asked her to wear a sheer nightie so I could see all her tattoos and nipple piercings. She had two cherries tattooed on her right hip, comic book style, and I couldn’t wait to lick and nibble each one.

I barely made it through the door before we were on each other. I had a barbel and nipple in my mouth, wiggling my tongue around it, spit running down my chin like I salivated over a chocolate layered cake.

It was the anonymity that got me off the hardest.

It bothered me they used the word coach to describe teacher, role model...superior.

I didn’t want anyone to be like me. I wanted the cheerleaders to train, gain discipline and maybe even stay out of some trouble while they were a part of my team. I certainly didn’t want anyone looking up to me.

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