“I see it in your fake eyes. No need to turn away now.”, he grumbled at her in his smoky voice she adored so much when they first met.What was there left to say now? He knew and she wanted him to know. Now what? Is this the dead end street she inevitably expected? No escape route in view. It’s dark anyway. The wind is blowing elsewhere. Here it’s silent, except his tired breathing. And the rejection of his touch that burns her body.
Her eyes closed now. She focuses on the air he inhales with such difficulty. Barely breathes herself. The air that flowed above her skin and made her tremble. She never really knew him, never got to know who he was. His touches were enough, he didn’t even need to talk. Most times he didn’t say a word. He came in, shut the door and she was all over him, sucking on every bit of his body and cum. Never resting a moment for fear he might leave. He fingers piercing him without compassion. Until she came and fell back exhausted and sated on the warm carpet or bed or table in the kitchen. She could feel his breath retreating from her skin as he got off her and dressed silently. Almost sad. His eyes, still left on her body. He opened the door and left. A stranger again. She never wanted to talk to him. Posed the sleeping, fucked beauty until he left. Sometimes she really fell asleep. Until her husband dangled with his keys at the door. He never wanted to suspect a thing.
He stood in the middle of the room. Not really straight but robust and strong. A large shadow over her small body fixed on the wall. He was not threatening her. He was not even angry. They stood there in screaming silence. Their eyes wandered on each others bodies in a violent farewell.
He closed the door softly, she slid down to the floor.
