Images flash through my mind of flesh on flesh, engulfing pleasure, tongues and teeth. As these memories surface, a blush creeps across my cheeks and warmth fills my body. No, they aren’t memories, it was a dream.
Overwhelmed with every gluttonous emotion, I seek out his mouth and kiss him harder, longer, and deeper than I ever have before. I want him right here and now. I haven’t even taken the magic pill yet and I feel alive, like every nerve of my body is exposed and ready to spark like a live wire.
The feeling of power, of having that control over someone’s pleasure is exhilarating. I don’t recognise the person I’ve become, and rational thought should cause me embarrassment, horror at what I’ve just done, but I’ve caught The Afterworld buzz and I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough.
I’ve become a glutton for her sex. I’m a glutton for her and I don’t want to stop.
Shame sends goose bumps over my body and I suppress it. It is done, I can’t change it. It just can’t happen again. I’m usually quite reserved, shy even, not the gluttonous sex fiend I’ve been the last two nights.
I can’t continue this way. I’m a professional woman. I was a vanilla girl who’d never had a problem being this way before. Sure, sex with Matty was always good and not too ordinary, but the things I did at The Afterworld were not me, no matter how much I liked it at the time.
Our friends with benefits came more from wanting to lose our virginity with someone we trusted and to help each other learn the art of sex. Neither of us has ever said anything remotely romantic or loving, and we fell into this relationship with our eyes open and with contentment. We don’t question our status, merely live it.
A sharp stab to my chest indicates my jealously. Matty wants to hook-up with someone else. I thought we were only having sex with each other even though we aren’t in a romantic relationship. It hurts me more than I could’ve anticipated. I suddenly feel possessive of him. I don’t want to share. I want him. Does this mean I love him?