Why do men cheat? That's the million dollar question, to which most women reply, "Because they can!" Let me school you on the real reason. Men cheat because of women like me, women who give them the opportunity.
What in the hell am I doing? What have I done?
As I lay in his arms, I cursed myself for allowing this to happen again. Instead of coming to my senses and kicking his ass out in the cold, I nestled closer. We were so close that I felt his eye lashes fluttering as he ended his post-sex slumber.
His hand glided across my tattooed hip as his fraternity-branded arm drew me in closer. I felt him growing next to me. His excitement matched my arousal as I spread my legs apart, encouraging his exploration.
He moved on top of me with ease, shifting his weight, careful not to crush my petite frame. We never said a word – didn’t have to. As he entered me, my legs intertwined with his, pulling him in deeper and deeper. Our movements became harmonious, synchronized lovemaking.
Soaked in sweat, my pace quickened. I was about to reach my climax. He looked into my eyes, felt the raw emotions that were running between my thighs, and always the studious lover, he rose to the challenge. His thrusts adjusted to the steps of my pelvic dance. I moaned while clutching his ass, my nails desperately trying to draw blood. I wanted to leave my mark, let her know that someone else had been creeping outside of her door.
My common sense went out the window. I forgot about the other people and the emotional baggage that we shared as my body shivered in blissful delight. Waves of orgasmic ecstasy washed over me again and again.
We collapsed into sheets that reminded me that purity had a color, even if I was living in sin. I blocked out the truth that screamed for me to get the hell up and run as far away as I could. Instead, my tongue found solace in the warmth of what was hidden behind his full, luscious lips.
Amazed that my body was still eager, I grinned as he began to plant soft kisses on my stomach. Just as his head began to disappear below my waistline, Marcus Houston’s voice sang out from his cell phone – a subtle reminder that she was really his favorite girl.
Excerpt
"If I had really wanted him, I could have had him."
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
Eight e-books regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive
narcissists and psychopaths, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
The e-book version of Sam Vaknin's "Malignant Self - Love - Narcissism Revisited". Contains the entire text: essays, frequently asked questions and
appendices regarding pathological narcissism and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
