Submerged

Mathilde sat on the metro—she could still feel him between her legs. She could still feel him moving there, the heat of him outside and inside her and she pressed her thighs together from the memory.

Biting her lip and clutching her bag, Mathilde realized that she had come all the way to Paris to be alone for the first time in her life and she did not really want to be alone. She wanted to be close to someone, she just wanted it to work this time.

Every time she wanted it to work, but somehow it never worked the way that she wanted it to. Not that she had not been with people and loved them, but it was never quite what she wanted…

Phenomenal twosomes, threesomes and foursomes had filled her—literally—but it was never quite what she wanted. On the metro now, she realized that maybe she was not built for real intimacy. What she had just experienced in the bedrooms of two men she barely knew, let her know that she was always ready for her body to be submerged in whatever—but real love and intimacy were something she could only scratch at the surface of.

Her body still ruminated with the pleasure she had submerged herself in—a man who seemed to know her intuitively. There was something base and animal about the way that he knew her, while he was inside of her it felt like he was entering more of her than just her body. It felt like he was penetrating deeper, to something that she was not able to stop him from searching for within herself.

She felt like he awakened something in her that she had not known was there. And now hands on her thighs, she tried to settle herself from the pleasure and the torture of it that she could still feel throughout her body and soul.

 

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