I think listening to your breathing last night gave me a dream about you. I was tired, just getting out from work and you were asleep on my couch. You looked so peaceful and beautiful. So with so much pent up stress I did the only logical thing, turning you onto your stomach and pulling your panties down. You woke up around this point and started whimpering into the pillow asking me what I was doing. My only reply was to thrust into you. You let out a gasp and more desperately asked what was going on and all that got you was your face shoved into the cushion and my heavy breathing. It didn't last long, how could it when you felt as nice as you did and I was as hungry for you as I was. When I finished you were just a teary sobbing mess of a thing. So utterly ruined and all the more beautiful for it. Like a painting degraded by the sun. You never knew my name, and the only thing you ever heard me say was "Good girl" as I strode from your house, my cum still dribbling out of you.
hey so this was insane to read at work.
though, i have always loved the idea of being used as stress relief. see, you are a good writer! my panties are wet! mission accomplished!








