For the Record

From today’s writing: Hot in Aruba

Hot in Aruba

My feet moved mechanically. I was a sexually active woman. I loved sex. I craved the intimacy and high of climax, yet around Carlos, I acted like a girl who’d barely been kissed. And why? Because I was bent on us being friends. That old record was seriously wearing out its groove.

When he’d suggested we should head back, I’d wanted anything but. However, the idea of pushing him down and fucking him in the desert sand hadn’t really appealed to me, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why? Outside sex was hot. A thought burbled to the surface, and I cringed. A whiny, pouty little voice mewled that our first time together should be special.

I kicked a pebble in my path. What the hell was happening to me? I was losing my fucking mind.

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