The Worst Kind of Pain - Sex Stories

The Worst Kind of Pain

I lie alone in my bed at night. It’s a quiet night for me. Nothing much to do, and so I spent most of my night watching old reruns of tv shows or listening to music and journaling. Waiting until you are past your curfew so that we can chat. There is just something so calming and comforting about chatting with you. I try to distract myself from the fact that I am lonely, and you are probably having a fun time with your kids. And dealing with your wife. It's heartbreaking. But worth it. I continue to drag the sharp edge of our love across my throat every single day because the way you make me feel is incredible. Our time has come. You have been sent to your room and are free to chat me up. We start by going through the highlights of our nights since we last talked, only a few short hours ago. But it seems like an eternity. Pleasantries exchanged, we start talking life and plans. What’s the plan to see each other tomorrow? How long do we have to wait to see, touch or hear each other again? Sometimes we dive into naughty talks. The things we want to do to each other. The fantasies we have. Our futures. The things I do to myself in random parking lots. Hot, enticing secret pleasures. We have been doing this charade a while now, but it never ceases to amaze me when you are interrupted and must stop talking. Sometimes it’s a sick child, or a crazy wife outside your door waiting to discover what secrets her loving husband is hiding. Tonight is one of those nights. We are in the ...

... middle of some adorable getting to know you better conversation when you just stop. No response from you. I wait. Ten minutes pass and I decide to call it quits. I send you a good night love message and still, no response. And the worry sets in. I always have had a very active imagination and most days I struggle to keep it in check. My emotions get the best of me sometimes. Tonight, I imagine that she knocked on your door and you quickly deleted our messages. You go to the door to unlock it and she is standing there in a long pink gown. It must be pink because it's my least favorite color. She asks if she can come in and talk. I give you credit because at first, you try to tell her how tired you are and how you just want to fall asleep. All those early mornings and late nights (talking to me) are taking their toll on your body. She doesn’t take no for an answer. She slides into your bed and you fall in beside her. At my house, I have changed into pajamas, short shorts, and a tank top. I lie under the covers feeling alone and broken. Worthless and unwanted. The soft fabric pressing gently against my body causing me to think of your loving fingers embracing my skin. I hold myself, my thumb caressing my shoulders. I let the longing tears start to fall slowly down my cheeks. You lie on your back and she lies on hers beside you, not touching. For minutes. No words. Just awkward silence. You notice small movement from her side. Your eyes open and you look at her. She is silently ...