Dia From India
You can’t understand how much you hurt me.”“God, please don’t cry.”“Like I can fucking help it!”They looked at each other desperately.“I mean, do you even like me?” She reached out and grasped his hand, liquid eyes searching his. “I mean, just say, please. Please just tell me the truth, Ty. Tell me you hate me or that I’m not your type. Just do it. Hurt me and be a fucking asshole and then I can start hating you. I can’t deal with the uncertainty. Just tell me the truth. That’s all I want.”Tyler looked at her helplessly. The anxious edge of truth. Of confession. Everything was always lies. Concealed feelings and hesitation and uncertainty.Not his type. Beyond her he didn’t have a type, truth told. Anyone would do. He felt the seep of half-memories; overflowing ashtrays and lipstick stained cigarette butts and the choking edge of too-much perfume. Anyone, almost. Would she hate him if she knew? All those women. Night after night. He didn’t remember names, faces even; all he ever did. She embraced me with all the love she could at the time. She was exhausted from the numerous orgasms she already had. I planned on a few more before the night was over.I slowed my rhythm down as I kept fucking Ally in her ass. I gave her cheeks a quick smack turning them bright red. God, I loved that woman. I’d do anything to please her and make her happy. Just as much as she would for me. Ally’s nails dug into my back as I had another orgasm. My eyes were locked on her as I grunted through my orgasm till it subsided and I fell into her embrace.We held on to each other tight. I ran my fingers through her hair and gently caressed her face as I kissed her lips as we lay in bed. Ally held me tight, seemingly like she never wanted to let me go. I released my grip and rolled from Ally. She looked in my eyes with a puzzled look.“You’re not done yet, are you?”“Ally, honey. What makes you think that? I’m just getting warmed up. I have been so hot for you since our video chat. I can’t wait.
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