Laws of Attraction: The Playgirl

3. He Loves Me. Honestly, why would I bother to sleep with someone who has no interest in me, much less my heart? When I say he loves me, I mean it. Every night, he sends me an embracing text, dying to know how I am doing. Whenever I learn that I have got a text waiting to be read from him, I smile to myself contentedly, in restless angst. I even do squirm out loud; though not loud enough for everyone to hear. My happiness is my own thing, isn't it? And yet it can still be shared with my closest buddies, like you, for instance.

"I love you, Phoebe," these are the words he unfailingly murmurs from his lips—every time and every day. Not just this, but his actions also prove what he states out. "Girlie, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. What would be your reaction if I told you that I want to marry you?"

I love him too, because he loves me. We love each other. Why then must I not give him sex? He is not going to tear my heart apart and leave me destitute. He loves me strong enough—he is to a degree prepared to settle down with me, he consistently adds. Sadly, I don't think I am ready for marriage yet.

If given the chance to die in my place, he says he would happily do it, though with great suffering on our part, as he will be leaving me on my own behind. No! I don't want anything of this nature to happen to us. It certainly won't!

JULIE

Hey girl! In case you are not aware, men will always cheat on their partners, no matter how great and satisfying they are. That is the chief reason most women start screwing other dudes behind their men's backs. The funny thing is that while the majority of men get caught in the act, with overwhelming and puzzling evidence on the woman's part, the mass of unfaithful women never get caught. How come?

I won't lie to you, girl. I have cheated before. Not because I wanted to. He cheated on me first, and that really hurt to discover. I was like, "I am not good enough for him? Okay, we are going to see about that." I went on to play his game, smarter than he did, making the exact moves he performed on me, but not daring to repeat his mistakes.

How do you handle a man's unfaithfulness? Do you think faithful men still exist? Tell me, please, dear!

ME

That is the worst thing that can happen in any relationship. Cheating! Unfortunately, this shit happens in all places, from the most lavish home, down to the poorest one. Men cheat, and they will always cheat on you. Women have learned to cheat also. They do it ruthlessly and intelligently than men do this stuff.

Well, you seem to forget that you are the one who taught me how to shuffle the cheating cards once he throws them down on my table, scaring and stirring the hell out of me. I just have to be extremely careful; otherwise I will be caught unaware and left hanging dry inside a creepy damn lurch. If he doesn't give me everything I want, I have to make a plan B. I am not willing to play dummy here—are you, babe?

When dating my first man, I discovered he was cheating on me, well, just to make me a bit jealous and pull up my socks in holding him tight to myself. That is when the unfaithfulness horror began for me—on my first man, and not on my ninth or eleventh one!

Regardless, that first guy seems to like me to this day. He didn't make it to the fucking session with me. Maybe that explains why his eyes light up abruptly whenever I marvel at him. He just wants to fuck me, and then call it a done conquest.

JULIE

Men, men, men. One can never sympathize with them. When they crave sex, they will treat you like a Queen. Once they are through and satisfied, they walk out on you like you don't matter anymore. I know. Not all men are like this. Why do we keep meeting the bad guys for the most part, Angel face?

Well, it seems like we both have the same technique of dealing with 'cheating' men. We stab them in the back, like they knife us in the first place. Like you, I got cheated on by my first man. In his case, he was pursuing the four of us at the same time, and we all said, 'Yes,' at once, not knowing what he was determinedly doing behind our backs. Having messed up the other girls, he settled on getting serious with me. I hadn't learnt to easily forgive at that time. Thus I left him in un-drying tears.

ME

Julie, tell me about your stepson, Lucas, whom you said seems to be lusting after you these days. You are almost as young as my age, 25, and wed to a 41 year old man, who has a 22-year-old son; one that is born out of wedlock—outside his second marriage which is.

Is this Lucas hot and sexy? I mean, isn't he supposed to fear you as his mom? You are in fact his genuine mother. If you are given the choice to pick between him and his dad, who would you go for? Just be honest with me, darling. I beg you.

I remember the story you were telling me the other day; that you were out for dinner as a family—you, your hubby, Lucas, and his two young sisters. Out of the blue, you sat facing him, your legs constantly and accidentally brushing his. In the end, he had a massive erection, rock hard, which you discovered upon bending down to pick up your fallen ring.

You also said that Lucas confessed to his best friend, Cody—you were eavesdropping on their conversation behind his shut bedroom door—about how he was experiencing wet dreams starring you nowadays at a frequently growing pace. What do you think about all this stuff, cutie? It seems your stepson is craving to have an affair with you. Aren't you in agreement with me concerning this? Or maybe you think this Angel-light is merely getting crazy and making weird stuff up?

JULIE

You wanna know 'bout my stepson, Lucas, Phoebe? I have no problem explaining that. Yes, stuff has been happening—I mean attraction between the two of us. I don't know how to help it. Lucas is stunningly handsome, and I am fiercely attractive too on the other hand. We can't resist each other. When my husband is around, we fight like a cat and a dog forced into the same kennel, but behind this, we just want to fuck and fight each other in the bed. If you see him, I swear your vagina is going to flood with sugar. He makes me wet just by gazing at me intensely.

At first I loathed the idea of entering into an affair with him, him being my stepson, almost my own child. Now I adore it! The other day we were alone inside the house, we kissed and licked each other's throat and whispered the sweetest things. I think I love him. That is what I am starting to feel now.

I will be honest to you as a friend, cute babe. My stepson and I are starting to get on each other's nerves and privates at the same time. There is no way I will say, 'No,' to having sex with a boy that exceedingly handsome; there is no way he is going to refuse caressing the breasts and pecking the skin of a beauty queen like me. I don't care what happens next.

I married Denzel for revenge solely. Not because I loved him. At first, I was so helplessly in love with this certain guy. He left me for a nobody—I mean a girl with nothing amazing and extraordinary about her. His pals told me he married her just to hurt me. I was not willing to do everything he ordered me to accomplish in our relationship. In his eyes, she was very submissive in almost everything. Thus she became his legitimate wife. To sting him back, I dated a guy as filthy rich as myself and wedded him in the end. It wasn't genuine love that drove me into this marriage on my part. Now I want to genuinely fall in love again, with Denzel's son, which is.

***

I can't forget that first moment when I ran into him, even if I was pound in the head a countless times with a sledge hammer. It was not something I was looking forward to. It just happened—a stroke of bad luck or misfortune. Yeah, it was an accident. I was hurrying down the stairs, recklessly. I can't call to mind what had precisely gotten over me. The next thing I know is I hit into these strong arms, the very arms that are holding me tight in this single bed. I swear: I have forgotten what loneliness virtually means. His room looks simple, but tastefully modern. I would move in here at any slight opportunity to do so.

Slowly, his eyes dart up to my face. I am not embarrassed being naked around him anymore. I am now used to it. The truth is I can peel away all my clothing in public, and I wouldn't give a damn about accomplishing this. The only thing restraining me from doing that is making a horror show before everyone in motion, and then getting my hands cuffed up, my face thrust high against the wall, and finally towed into a police van. Many people have different names for that thing—I mean that vehicle.

"You don't seem happy being here with me," he notices, the reason he decides to pass comment. I stare at him quietly. Inside my head, there are millions of thoughts pressing their way. I am thinking and thinking and overdoing it. I can't get myself to make a final decision. My head is on the verge of bursting. He has a point. I should call it quits and put my concentration on him solely.

"That is not what I said, or hinted. What makes you say that, Miguel?" I fake a cheery smile. He doesn't buy it. I have become so bothered I cannot get myself to put on a false act, which I always triumph in doing. Gosh. This has become way too serious then!

"What is it, concerning me, that makes you terribly worried, cutie? Perhaps I have done something that you find offensive? Tell me, baby, and I will be quick to apologize." I hold his cheek with my hand. It feels baby smooth like, delightful. I caress it smoothly. He suddenly falls quiet and gets wound out of his breath, like a babe when it is struck dumb. I am not going to leave him for anything in this world, I swear.

"You haven't done anything to upset me. The truth is I am only thinking about us—our future together, where we are headed to." He is still out of breath and alarmingly quiet, taking into consideration every word that I am giving utterance to. "What do you think about us, my sweet pie?"

"We don't just need to fuck. We should marry, dear...one day I mean." Between these two words, 'dear' and 'one', he notices how bitterly my facial expression has changed. Yes, I love him; deeply what's more. I am not ready to wed him this soon. I beg.

I am willing to do anything to satisfy his sexual needs, even if it means selling my soul to the devil. Why am I saying this? He is holding my butt nicely with his wooly hands. I smile at him slightly. He grins back in self-confidence. He precisely knows what he is doing to me. He has located my anus, promptly jabbing a firm finger inside it. "Don't you dare tamper with my butt queen," I warn him, serious-faced. "My cunt is dripping wet with your cum already. It is swollen red what's more. Don't you think this is enough for me to put up with?"

"You wouldn't like it if I tried anal with you, lily? I have been dying to fuck your ass, baby, ever since the first time you got naked before my eyes. Please, just let me do it. It will be quick and painless, I promise. I have a butt plug. I can warm you up if you wish me to."

"No," I kindly turn him down. "I am not ready for that kind of thing tonight. Just give me a bit of time to think about it." He seems angry and disappointed with me. I am not willing to change my mind about it, sorry. I am the one possessing that ass he wants to rump so cruelly. He just has to wait, or fuck around some place.

"Okay. I am not going to twist your arm into it. We shall give it a try once you are ready. I want you to know one thing always: I love you—you, you, and you alone."

I smile in response shyly. "That is what I also want you to know. My love for you is deeper than the bottomless floor of the Pacific, limitless like the starry heavens overhead." He tweaks my breast sharply, kissing it teasingly. I giggle lightly, pulling back from him. He goes for my lips instead.

"Now, split up your legs one last time, baby, will you please?" He begs me, his voice wounded seeming. This is surprising, taking into account that I have not done anything to stir his pain, or should I say agony? Anyway, I do what he is asking me to. My legs are entirely his tonight—and my whole body too. He eases into me. I hang wide open my mouth, gripping both sides of the bed. I just can't control it. Tears gush their way out rapidly. "Did I hurt you?" He kindly asks.

"You didn't. Just fuck me one last time and get us ended with this ordeal."

"It is now an ordeal, baby?" Yes. I have astonished him by saying that. Whatever!

"Don't mind me, Miguel. Do it quickly. I am so tired. I must rest for hours undisturbed after this." Late that night, I can barely sleep. I am by myself, seated on the lounge and silently thinking about what happened hours past. Just after I had sex with him, my stomach began experiencing weird-like sensations. I feel like I am being electrocuted deep inside or something. I have to call Julie, my bestie. She might be able to explain what the hell is exactly going on to me.

"Phoebe, are you okay? You sound nervous to me. I am wondering: How did fucking go with that jerk? Was he rough with you, even this time around?" Whenever I am about to have sex, Julie is the first person I let know about my furtive plans. She counsels me on how to go about it and also how to respond to the heavenly-like sensations that surface in the process. She lets me know whenever she wishes to pull her legs apart for her man. We are not ashamed to discuss our sex lives.

"I don't think I am okay, Julie. Is it common to have funny feelings in the stomach after having sexual intercourse? I swear: I feel like electricity is moving inside my belly. This is starting to scare me for sure." She is quiet for a while, definitely thinking stuff—I guess.

"I don't know what to say, Angel. Maybe you are allergic to some sex toy he put into you. Tell me: Did you guys experiment with strange gadgets?"

I shake my head, even if she can't see this motion on her phone. "No, he didn't fuck me using any sex toy. Neither did I masturbate with the help of any. I don't know where this alien feeling is coming from, I swear."

"Just keep calm, dear. It could be that you are not used to his semen. I mean some ladies with weaker wombs react to strong semen. Girl, you have to be careful with that guy. He can get you filled with child that easily. He seems to have an impressively high sperm count, and his sperm might have a very powerful impact on your...inside." I put my hand on my belly, and then slide it into my pants. I am still wet. I didn't wash his cum out once we were through. It drips down my legs, bit by bit and awkwardly. I had to wear three varied-style panties, just so to stay off from making a noticeable scene.

"Thanks honey, for the recommendation. Nothing is paining thus far, really. I solely feel uncomfortable with these tickles that my stomach is undergoing. Since they are itching skin deep, I can't scratch them, otherwise I would have done that by now."

She sighs out in relief. "Your guy seems reproductively blessed. You will definitely get used to sleeping with him in time, I promise you. Did sex with him hurt, even slightly, if I may kindly ask?"

"It didn't. At first I was ecstatic, before he entered me. But then I suddenly lost interest and focus after he had began ploughing deeper into my womb. Thereafter, he took me into an orgasm by surprise."

Julie coughs unexpectedly. I think she is mocking me. Is she really? "Sorry, that is me and my flu. I still have not fully recovered. Would you mind if I call you back minutes from now? I have a guest to attend to straight away."

I sigh calmly. "No problem, pal."

Miguel sounds over the moon with his latest accomplishment. First, he beeps my line, and then he forwards the proceeding text:

I am happy that I have at last fucked a beautiful creature like you, Phoebe. You played hard before I was finally able to sneak my dick into your pants. Now I have made my conquest.

I laugh quietly to myself, and then respond:

You are mad, dude. Yes, you have finally succeeded in sneaking—or is it sticking?—your handsome dick into my pants. I didn't know your dick tasted sweeter than sugar. What must I call it: Sugar Miguel?

He snorts back at me, rudely.

Sugar Miguel: That is your moniker for my penis? Girl, you are so dumb and low at the same time. Why don't you call him Sweet John or Sweet Jake instead? That sounds a lot better.

Damn! I can't help getting aroused. My legs feel like they are being caressed by those strong hands and pecked by those seductive lips that I am now lusting after. My vagina is noisily weeping. She is hungry for more sex already!

Miguel, would you mind if we do it again? I want more...and more of Sweet Jake. Please don't say no to me. You are the one who has aroused me. Now you must face the consequences of doing that. I can't keep back the fires of lust from consuming me. What have you done to me, you asshole?

He sounds eager to have more sex with me as well.

I will fuck you again...my beautiful angel. I am dying to fuck you the millionth time. Those juicy thighs of yours, when undressed for me to lay my eyes on, are as tempting as ever in my mind. Your purple-like tear or vagina—I want to see it and finger it what's more.

I bury my head into the pillow, spreading my legs apart. It is gloomy inside my room, with dim multi-colored lights blazing sickly. I can see Miguel posing naked before me. He bends down towards me. I quickly pull my legs further apart, feeling sugar stream out of my cunt as I sight his nicely penis; the handsome penis that is going to pleasure me! I would kill just to have sex with him once more.

At last, he calls. I answer following three repeated rings. "Miguel, aren't you scared of writing dirty stuff to me? My vagina passes greetings to your cock regardless."

He laughs momentarily. "My cock is okay. He is lonely tonight. Tell sweet vagina she needs to visit him another time. Right now, I have put him to sleep. Be careful with what you say. At any loud and careless and sexually stimulating word, he will not delay to stir awake."

"Don't worry. I am not going to disturb his rest. He worked hard this evening; which explains why he is tired now and needs to enjoy his rest. Sweet vagina shall visit him, I guarantee you. I don't know when exactly."

I am meeting him this afternoon. I heave a deep sigh out, and then think about how the event will be like. I am still deciding what it is that I must precisely wear. Well, this is just a basic event. I don't have to look showy or flashy. I will merely be my plain self.

When I see him, my heart nearly skips out of my chest. I smile at him charily. He gazes at me coolly. I make my way towards him, battling the feelings of shyness that are aggressively threatening to overcome me. "Miguel, good afternoon!" I stand before him. He places his hand on my waist, boldly looking into my eyes. I feel sugar moving inside my blood, sweet and electrifying.

"My angel, I miss you. So much, you don't even know how lonely and miserable I was last night without you sleeping next to me." My lips curl into an unwilling smile. I had no intentions to smile. I forced myself into it.

"Miguel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me," I tell him kindly. My eyes shimmer in the intense sunlight. When I look at him, I start to believe that he is sparkling. Perhaps he is. I am not sure. I love him; I love him; I am solely his. "With me by your side, you won't ever be lonely again, I swear."