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How I was blackmailed into slavery by my sadistic stepmother.
There is a sense of innocence and mischief at the same time in his stare. When engaged in passion they are fierce, biting and intense. They take a piece of my soul each time we lock in unison in a moment of bliss. I had never been one to open my eyes during intercourse, but with Ash it's different, he silently demands that I engage him and I obey. His body, slender and sexy, makes beautiful scenery when naked. His abs ripple with definition; I feel every muscular bump when I run my fingers over his stomach.
I still wonder what he sees in me, the nagging feeling never leaves. I understand the initial conquest of an older woman, and a married woman at that, for a young man. I thought he would become bored with me over time, but he is more into me by the day. I expected him to find a girl, a young girl, with a tighter body, one not yet experiencing any effect of gravity. He could find a girl who has constantly perky tits and completely soft and smooth skin without a hint of wrinkling. I had all that at one time, but being in my 44th year I have some telltale signs of my age no matter how hard I work to hide them.
I'm 5'6 (and __) and weigh about 155 accounting for fluctuations. I gave up keeping daily track years ago. I am in shape, I exercise, practice yoga and even play soccer. My legs still get plenty of looks when I'm out and about and I even enjoy them these days. Ash is in lust with my hips; he loves it when I wear tight clothes and loves it even more to peel them off. My breasts are not large, but at the same time they don't sag. All in all my, once tall and slender, body is a bit rounder in certain places but they all suit me.
My hair has a few creeping greys but you'd never know it. I'm careful to pluck or colour them as required. Otherwise my deep brown hair still has enough youthful volume to be kept long. I have little curls in my hair that most gravitate to my ends. I'm generally pretty conservative with my hair because I do really feel lucky to have it. I had once, rather funny, plunge into purple dye with my daughter but that has since grown out and I don't intend on going back. My eyes are unusual and grey.
I use creams, concoctions, coconut oil, olive oil, avocado, lime and most anything else you can think of to keep the wrinkles at bay but the only thing that really works is a subtle application of make-up in just the right spots. Over the years I've become an expert at the subtleties of make-up application. Necessity also breeds expertise.
I'm always careful to look my best for Ash. I want him to be proud of me and to desire me in the same way I desire him. To my delight he goes to lengths to prove that he does. His obsession, the obsession of a truly beautiful young man in the prime of his youth, feeds my ego shamefully. He is passionate about everything he does for me and to me. He burns when he kisses me and it sends shivers through my veins. My heart pulses in anticipation for each and every meeting.
Aside from all the physical magnetism between us, we also connect on a personal level. I can talk with him for hours and lose the ability to perceive time. It always feels too short; the instant it ends is the instant I wish it could continue. We talk about everything and anything. We share the secrets of our souls and the trivial happenings of our lives. Whenever we argue our feelings never waver. Our most heated arguments usually end with the most passionate slow burning love making.
He has a quiet intelligence, one that still has the naivety of youth blossoming with ability. He's not afraid to ask questions on topics he doesn't know much about and isn't embarrassed to admit when he's wrong. His strength of character and self-confidence preclude the need to make himself correct in all circumstances. Indeed there are a few things I can learn from him too. In our most tender moments he shows his fragility and allows my feminine touch to build back up his masculine resolve.
"I needed this to happen.