He loves me. He fucking loves me.

“Are you in love with her?,” I asked, referring to his girlfriend.

“Yep,” he said with a calm smile.

I smiled back. “Awww,” I said. “That’s sweet.”

“That doesn’t mean I love you any less,” he added.

Wait, what? “You don’t love me.” I looked at him like he had two heads. I might as well have added “Like, duh.”

“I miss you when I’m not with you. I day dream about you. I care about your well-being. I wake up hard thinking about you. It’s not Disney love, but…”

I snorted. “Don’t worry, I got over that a long time ago. Those stupid girls,” I laughed.

We snuggled closer into each other, making fun of the unrealistic expectations given to girls by way of chick flicks. I smiled until my cheeks hurt. We kissed and he rubbed his hands up and down my body. It reminded me of when, moments before, he’d stroked my hair as I looked up into his eyes, sucking his dick from my position on the floor.

He loves me.

He loves me.

He fucking loves me!

I didn’t say it back, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.

For all of you who surely think I’ve lost my mind, I have only this:

http://blog.carsieblanton.com/post/82149148832/casual-love


3 Comments on “He loves me. He fucking loves me.”

  1. plantpage says:

    That’s good. I’m happy for you. Good girl for not saying it back. I know when a woman say’s it it has much more meaning. Try to hold off as long as you can. Just to be on the safe side.

  2. Spunky80 says:

    That’s fucking awesome! The more love, the merrier 🙂


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