No Strings Attached

No strings attached.

At least that had been their agreement when everything had started.

Well, his agreement.

She never specifically agreed with him when he voiced his opinion.

But what she wanted was basically irrelevant.

She didn’t know why she was here again.

Sitting next to him as they watched the TV silently.

Every now and then, he would let out a chuckle, and she would fight the leap her heart made at the sound.

He didn’t see her that way.

Something he’d made painfully clear numerous times.

Yet here she was, sitting unbearably close to him, his arm draped around her shoulders as his hand began to wander.

It always wandered after a while.

He said he liked her boobs, they were “a good size” in his opinion.

He said he liked to make her feel good.

But she guessed that was only a physical feeling.

Because every time they were together her heart ached with the feeling of only being good enough to fuck.

She didn’t know why she kept coming back, why she let herself fall into this trap.

But in the end, she always came back willingly whenever he asked.

Because she did see him that way.

She enjoyed his company, being near him.

He lies down and pulls her with him wrapping his arm around her tightly, squeezing her breast as his hand settles.

She knows it’s only a matter of time before his hand drifts downwards, but she’s always putty in his hands, she won’t resist.

Sure enough, just moments later, his hand moves down, pushing her pants as he goes.

The first touch always makes her jump, even when she’s expecting it, but soon his movements cause her eyes to close and her mouth to fall open in pleasure as she loses herself in the moment.

Because at least he wants her this way.

No strings attached.