I don't want to be a wife with a ladle - I want to be a best boy with a lover
I want to be a passionate lover, not a hysterical wife … I am a woman who does not give birth and does not belong to anyone. I am the one who turns animal mating into emotional sex. I am the one who loves!
The envy of friends, gossip and slander, accusations of divination and love spells - this is not what I wanted, but this was exactly what my cousin warned me about when I decided to share with her my secret dream - to be a passionate lover, not a hysterical wife.
He's not mine, and I'm not his. He does not arrange scenes of jealousy for me, does not look for me in the evenings, does not demand from me ironed shirts and a hot dinner, my love and attention. I myself give it all to him, while experiencing indescribable happiness. I look forward to meeting with him, albeit short, but full of love and passion. I live from meeting to meeting, mentally living all the emotions experienced with him in the hours of loneliness and light sadness.
I am not jealous of him or his possibly dangerous work, or his wife or children.
I know there can be no better for me. He breaks out of his wife's embrace, out of breath, runs to meet me, his breath stops when we meet eyes. His eyes reflect the shine of my eyes, and a childishly sincere smile illuminates his face - this is HAPPINESS!
When dreams come true
Flowing champagne, clinking glasses, cheerful laughter, loud music - all this seems to be shrouded in a matte veil, against the background of which he and I … next to his wife. A little bit of alcohol, a slight intoxication, and I already feel free to tease him with my dance. Barely disguised flirting, a double-digit smile, I do not notice how his wife and all the women present begin to incinerate me with bilious glances.
“Don't tease me, girl,” he whispered in a hoarse, excited voice, pushing me against the wall as our entire party rushed into the fresh air in a crowd. I slipped out of his embrace and walked forward, casting a cocky glance at him.
But it was stronger than me. I could not help but tease him, not arouse animal desire in him. I felt a colossal surge of emotions, each time catching his eyes on me. This bright flash that kindled between us filled all of me with real, visual love. Someone may accuse me of immorality, but those who at least once experienced this outburst of emotions, the frantic rhythm of the heart, followed by a sharp stopping of breath, will understand me.
It is impossible to control it, there are no such forces to suppress it. Although … you know, to be honest, even if I had the strength to suppress these feelings, I would not have done it, the temptation to succumb to my weaknesses is too great. As if in the air I felt his aroma, through the noise of music and loud laughter, I heard his breath and heartbeat, my skin felt his gaze on me. And I was sure he felt the same way.
I was not surprised to see his car soon parked around the corner of the office where I worked. No, I didn't stop and didn't even hesitate. Seeing him, I walked with my usual gait, but was delighted like a child when I heard the sound of his approaching car.
This was followed by frequent but always short meetings. I gradually stole him from his wife, his caresses, tender kisses, warm hugs, in return giving him my feelings, enveloping him with my love. And sometimes, very rarely, but we managed to spend whole nights with him, full of tender love and wild passion.
Burning candles, the scent of jasmine emanating from the smoldering scented reeds, a thin smoke enveloping the room. All this created an atmosphere of romance and exciting danger.
- Darling, turn off the light!
- Why, are you ashamed of me or your body?
No, I have never had complexes associated with any flaws in my body, I have always loved him. I like it when a man looks at me, peers into every curve, gently running his hand over my shoulders, waist, hips. But darkness plays a special role for us spectators.
In the dark, a slight fear awakens, which is accompanied by an even greater release of pheromones, which contributes to greater arousal.
The sense of danger that darkness brings with it, and the simultaneous sense of security by a loving and beloved man, entering into contrast, give huge emotional leaps.
I turn on the music and begin to slowly move to it. A teasing look, inviting wrist waves, sharp turns of the head, smooth body movements - this dance kindles more and more desire in him. In the same way - by dancing in the moonlight - primitive skin-visual females aroused warriors and hunters, inspiring them to a victorious battle. And only a skin-visual woman in modern society can afford this dance and get pleasure from it. This is she - born without any prohibitions on sexual relations with men, without shame, she can take off her clothes and enjoy the full of desire and admiration of a man's gaze.
I loved to give him my affection and feelings, thanks to which he changed before my eyes. From a tough and callous male, he turned into a caring and even stronger and more powerful man than he was before. His success in business, loyalty to the people around him, reduction of hostility and cruelty that was in him - all this was nothing more than the result of the impact of my visual emotions.
Very soon our entire small town learned about this forbidden connection.
“Bitch”, “whore”, “go, look, go,” “wherever her parents look” - all my acquaintances and even unfamiliar women hissed. And I did not go - I flew over them all! I did not lower my eyes to the floor, but I also did not walk with my head held high. I just fluttered with happiness, each time soaring even higher when I received another sms from him.
And gossip and spiteful whispers behind your back did not bypass any skin-visual female in past and present times. In the Middle Ages we were called witches and burned at the stake. More recently, our fences in the villages were smeared with tar. Today it is much easier for us, although sometimes it does not make it easier.
“How can you do that? Aren't you ashamed? You destroy the family, you make him turn away from his wife who loves him, from children who need a father! That's not what I taught you! That's not why I raised you! After all, a woman should take care of the warmth of the home, give birth to children, and respect other people's families. No, you are not a woman, who are you? - with bitterness and tears in her eyes, my mother scolded me.
No, I was not ashamed, and I did not feel remorse, and I was not going to destroy my family either. I even heard that one of the psychologists put forward the theory that a mistress strengthens the family. Nevertheless, after much persuasion from my mother and sisters, I let go of my happiness with a nagging pain in my chest. To the question "who am I?" I know the answer - I am a woman who does not give birth and does not belong to anyone. I am the one who turns animal mating into emotional sex. I am the one who loves!
The memories of the moments spent in the arms of not my man do not leave me. As soon as I close my eyes, he appears in front of me. I see the sparkle in his eyes again, the smile on his face, his strong hands down my belly. Without the slightest regret, I would have thrown myself into his arms again, but … "coming back is a bad omen."
Spring will come soon, the leaves will bloom on the trees, the grass will turn green under my feet, I can put on a light dress and walk in the park with an airy gait, peering at the beauty of the plants, smiling at passers-by, flirtatiously turning around and catching their eyes. I will give them my smile, a light playful look, and then I will meet the one to whom I want to give all my love and tenderness.
