are in a green meadow, on the horizon the sun is setting, unicorns are grazing near by. I am wearing a long flowing dress made of the finest lace, and he? Silk breeches and no top, exposing his chiseled torso. He is kissing me gently, like I’m a fragile flower. My bosom heaves as he moves atop me. Through the silk breeches I can feel the pulsing of his bulging manhood. My bosom heaves again. My wits have clearly deserted me
Slowly looking into my eyes, he makes sweet, sweet love to me. The sounds of my pleasure are like the singing of angels. It all explodes like firearms across the dusky sky. We lie there, spent, him, breathing heavily, my bosom heaving again!
Okay, okay fine. This isn’t a Mills and Boon novel. There was no meadow and no sunset. Just a bed and the only light was the fluorescent bulb over the bed. My flowing lace dress? Nope, and the only unicorn in the room was my pink unicorn onesie! As for my heaving bosom? Sadly I have not been blessed in the boob department . I am a B cup at best and my cup does not overflow so if anything was heaving it was probably my chest! This seems obvious but no, I am not Emily-Rose
It felt like a mills and boon novel though. A Regency romance even. I felt all of the feelings. My soul was being snatched and I was sure I would never do this with anyone else. Infact what have I even been doing in the past? This was the coitus the romance novels I read in High school were talking about. I almost cried because of all the feelings but luckily he started a conversation before I embarrassed myself!
Anyway so we are lying there, in bed, with nothing between us and I feel like this is where I belong. Sadly for the both of us I have to go home, I don’t want to go home though! I mean his chest is the only home I now recognize but arghh responsibilities.
Before this, I was a bit skeptical about dropping all the other candidates in favour of this one but now I know I was right. This right here is the perfect choice. Who cares about expensive watches and a doctrate. If I want a doctorate in chemistry, I’m sure I can get it myself if I try hard enough. Screw those other two. The boy with the espresso skin has won. Did I mention his skin really does feel like butter in my hand?
Before I go to sleep I wonder if I perhaps should have mentioned my teeny tiny secret but that would have spoiled a perfect moment! Besides, who cares about the past, nothing before tonight matters anyway