He was tipsy, and I was feeling a bit drunk. I had oddly felt safe, comfortable, and relaxed with him.I knew that then, all I ever needed was a man's touch, and Michael's was the typical, perfect example of what I needed at the moment.His black fitted button-up shirt, which once had the fragrance of a nice rose cologne during the early hours of the night, was now oozing with the stench of alcohol, which oddly smelled seductive to me. "Do you have a condom?" I asked, searching for an answer in his intoxicated eyes. I knew I wanted to commit a sin; I wanted to make it worthwhile. After all, anything worth doing is actually worth doing well, but I couldn't risk it.I was ovulating. My husband wasn't in town, and if I didn't get to take a pill, I'd have to answer the question of who is responsible for whichever potential outcome the sex might produce. “No...But I can fuck you raw and then make you feel just like you haven't felt in a long time,'’ he said amidst breath, making for
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