Tryst With The Mistress

Always The Other Woman

Learning early that love is rarely offered without strings or someone else’s name already attached, I stopped asking for it.  I have become the fantasy, the escape, the vacation from reality, the mistress.  I have always been somebody secret.  There’s nothing men love more than a tryst with the mistress before they go home to their wives and families.  I move from one affair to the next with practiced ease, collecting secrets and promises I never intend to keep.  Love is a game I play well, but rarely believe in.  Their touches leave no mark, their words barely register.   I feel nothing, not guilt, thrill or control.  Just satisfaction and filthy sexual pleasure.  My close friends and I have this in common.  They are sexy, successful, enticing and always offering their best advice and hottest experiences.  Advice that often sounds more like confessions of a married slut.

Mistress By Nature

It started when I was eighteen.  The first one was older, married, wealthy.  I didn’t fall in love, I fell into a rhythm.  Dinners at discreet restaurants, weekends in hotels, and gifts that say I can’t give you everything but here’s a diamond to distract you.  But secrets sweat through skin.  That rhythm repeats with different names, and different faces.  The sex gets hotter and each tryst with the mistress makes them want me more.  One wild night after another.  They chase that sexual spark like a drug.  Fucking me in hotel rooms, parking garages, parked cars.  Sometimes on long “business trips”.  Begging to taste me, to touch me, to ruin my lipstick and rearrange my insides.  And I let them, one cock after another.

The Other Side Of Midnight – Tryst With The Mistress

I enjoy being pursued and feeling desired.  The freedom.  No rules, no obligations.  Never having to explain myself to anyone.  I’m simply an accessory.  Playing my role.  Sultry, available, invisible when needed.  I know what makes a tryst with the mistress so irresistible.  That’s slow unzip, whispered lies, my legs in their laps under restaurant tables.  Road head while he’s driving, and riding his cock raw when we’re parked.  Hungry, wild and real.  They all make me cum so hard I forget who I was the day before.

The pulse in their necks when I  undress for them.  Kissing down my body slow and reverent until I`m trembling beneath them.  My legs spread, my eyes rolling back.  Their mouths on my thighs before they devour my soaking wet pussy.  Tongue deep, fingers ruthless.  That long slow grind, eyes locked, hips rolling with purpose.  Whispering his name like it`s a prayer.  I ride them until they can’t remember their kids names.  Arching my back, dragging my nails across skin that doesn’t belong to me.  The late night calls whispering my name like it’s forbidden.

One more tryst with the mistress.  I never pretend to be more than I am.  I take my pleasure without apology, mouth open, moaning and greedy.

Call Devin 1-888-416-2401