Lovers? Too many; they came for my money, stayed for my money, and left me for the damn money. The bastards never stop trying, and I never learn. The last year was a roller-coaster of engagements, heartbreaks, marriages, and divorces.
Money? Too much.
Happiness?
I slipped a slim shapeless gown over my naked frame, shivering as the dress nuzzled over me, nudging things back to where they belonged, holding it all in, almost giving me something that can never be. I'd hidden behind a shadow all my life; the thick velvet over my face with holes in all the right places, thin red lipstick, a touch of a wild perfume and a shivering body beneath it all completed my outfit.
My limo dropped me outside five minutes later and I walked the few steps into that pale, slightly overweight apartment, the wine- red carpeting beneath my steps almost nauseatingly familiar. Two knocks at the door later, I'm in, and I flop down, a stuffy waterbed, a sprawling TV, and shadows on the wall to keep me company.
They come in, they touch me. Hands stroke mine, wet kisses at my ear and my neck, deep longing caresses - body against body, hard muscle melding with soft yielding flesh. My lips start battling furiously against the licking and raping of my face; rough hands maul at my breasts as my nipples harden and thrust out, eager, yearning for attention. Hands rip away my decency, lighting up my body, thrusting fingers into my pussy and latching onto my cleft deep inside - wetness and hardness everywhere. I bite my lips as I try to hold it back, but the incessant groping fills me, drowning out everything else, and I cry out. The almost stifled groan fills the room as the poundings begin, my cunt grunting hard to accept the ripping invader, thrusting it out on the way in, and clutching at it as it leaves, filling and leaving me again and again. The pleasure rips through me, one bite at my nipple when it seems to fade, and I thrust out - possessed, one timely lick at my clit, a single sly finger into my ass keeps me going forever, but then - oh so soon - it begins to fade out, the pulses coming in longer gasps, the pleasure no longer so eloquent.
