Reassessing My Life - Pt. 2 - Sex Stories

Reassessing My Life - Pt. 2

... child?”

“Oh, poorly, I suspect. But I also don’t really give a damn. I’m more worried that…” I kissed the top of her head. “Everyone in her family, just about, seemed to be on her side. Most of my former friends, too, but I don’t really care about them. I don’t want to be the reason that–”

Cass quickly interrupted. “I don’t give a shit about the family that sided with Kim. My Dad didn’t; his family didn’t, and a couple of my saner cousins didn’t. Anyone that did is either as bad as her or too stupid to want to deal with.”

“Still…”

“No, not ‘still.’ I love you, Jason. She didn’t, and I don’t think she ever did. She just turned out to be really good at faking it. And if my family or our friends have a problem with me loving you the way you deserve? Fuck them. We don’t need them in our lives. I’ve got what I need right here, and I don’t give a shit about them.” She stood and put her hand out to me. “Now come on.”

In the bedroom, she pushed me into a chair, a wild light dancing in her eyes as her slender body danced for me. It was teasing and seductive: a slow swaying of hips, a gentle touch of hands on her thighs as she toyed with the hem of her mini dress. “I’ve wanted to do this for months.” Her jacket had been abandoned on the floor, and now the dress went over her head and joined it.

I gawped at the splendor before me. She hadn’t worn panties, so all that remained was her choker and glasses. Her slight frame was fully exposed to me: that beautifully pale ...

... skin; her tiny bee sting tits and their hard pink nipples pierced by stainless steel rings; a completely hairless pussy, with the most delicate, tantalizing lips I could imagine; another glint of metal between her legs, the first hint of what I would soon learn was another ring piercing her clit hood.

These alone would have been enough for me to want to immediately push her onto the bed and ravish her for the rest of the night and well into the morning, knowing myself to be the luckiest man on Earth. But what made me pause, what most overwhelmed me, was the art that was most intimate to her, in both senses of the words, the hidden masterpiece that adorned her body.

I won’t describe it in its glory; it was hers, and private to her. I was honored to see it, and honored, as I had hoped, to be the last man to ever see it. But I will say that it was exquisite, a mix of art styles that could have easily clashed but instead came together into one single, perfect whole. She was like a medieval tapestry or an illuminated text, beautiful both at first glance and as one examined the detail. I could have looked at her for days.

There were a few bare spots in amongst the art, places that she had clearly left intentionally blank for reasons that were sometimes obvious and other times obscure; but what I realized quickly was that they were reserved for documenting her future.

Cassandra’s smirk slowly disappeared, her bravado replaced with an uncertainty that pained me. She opened ...