short stories

Puppet Master

I sat awkwardly on the floor in faithful observance of what is a genuinely unique experience. Two days gone, I exposed the best part of me leaving me overwhelmed yet joyous. I thought about him as I sat there in silence. I pondered why I am so foolish to think that someone like him would want someone like me. I twisted in jealousy as his words shattered my own thoughts. He desired his ex or yet she wanted him back. I couldn’t comprehend why he was informing me about something so wild and not think that it would affect me. Am I extremely naive to absorb my lesson or am I too innocent to recognize games? A puppet master is a sole name I know to entitle such a man. Jerking my strings as I do a dance for him and making me wonder who I truly am. A realization came over me yesterday and I realize I am free yet not free. Who am I to be not so deserving of a real relationship? Why do I play the fool for someone who is unworthy of my attention? Regardless, I did it now. I broke free from something that I bound myself by. He pulled me in lustful directions tormenting me with his swinging cock. Red lipstick was drawn on my mouth every time he drew a breath near me. I kept trying to lure him to my private places yet no green light for me. In his mind did he know the torture he put upon me as I sat in his pool of passion? There is nothing I could do nor run to as I became his willing victim. As with all desires, this one faded away and I began to love like no other. I danced in my living room in joy, feeling free. Nipples free from his lips, I pined for him yet I wanted me too.

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