C4 Horny words of a sex starved wife (4)

“Maybe you're right."

I finally admitted, owing to the fact that I've been talking randomly without letting him know anything personal about me except for the fact that I'm Judith, and that was all.

I was just being conscious about everything.

I wouldn't want to talk too much and give out too much confidential information about myself.

Information like how I was married to a man who has never made me feel the way I was feeling tonight.

I'd never be open to Peter. He wouldn't even allow me if I tried anyway.

I have never talked about anything with him.

Anything deep and soul-connecting.

He'd always be busy.

Busier than a bee, at times I'd cry that life had to punish me by giving me him.

Andrew was the type that would comfortably sit down and listen to your rant from dusk to dawn, but with Peter, it was different, and now again, I was with this stranger, Michael, and everything was happening so fast, and I loved the pace it was moving.

"But we are still strangers," I added, trying to defend the inner uptightness in me that doesn't create any room for any unusual familiarity from just anyone.

"Yes, you might be right and at the same time be wrong."

I'm sure maybe he had studied the riddle on my face.

"You are right because we are just mere strangers that know each other's names."

He paused, twisting his mouth and making a mimicking face. I was still.

He continued. "On the other hand, I'm not a stranger because I've already known your name to be Miss. Judith, and maybe you are single, and that is so I thought. I know you inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. You're light-skinned, and your hair is parked in a ponytail. I know you're putting on a skimpy red gown, trying to seduce my likes. I know you took your bath this evening before coming out to masturbate. I know—

I had to quickly cut in to evade more weird revelations from him, and I was also trying so hard to prevent myself from vomiting the heaped laughter that was already building inside of me.

"Well, Mr. Newman, since you're stubborn— He cuts in immediately.

"I prefer you call me Mike. Micheal, please. It's too easy to assimilate" he corrected.

I smiled.

“Besides, there's no ring on my hand,” he flaunted his fingers. They were trimmed so neatly that I imagined what they'd feel like inside of me. fingering me.

"Noted, sir. Sorry, Mike," he rolled his eyes.

"Well, like I was saying before you interrupted me, since you are one stubborn son of a bitch, I will tell you more and any other thing you'd wish to know about me." I smiled.

He locked his lower lips.

If there was one thing I've gotten to observe about my newfound friend, it was his ability to discern and understand humor.

His sense of humor was top-notch, and I didn't say this because I called him a son of a bitch, and he did nothing.

I hated the inner and unconscious comparison I was making between him and Peters.

Peters wouldn't take your, “I need more touch, baby,” as a joke.

"Mind following me home and getting to know my place of residence?"

"Wasn't that too fast, Mike? I mean, we just met this evening, and now you are asking I come over to your house, like, Mr.?"

This was the exact question that came to my mind, but I didn't get to ask it out.

I loved that he never assumed or suspected that I was married. I loved that he had poor discernment.

"Uhm Mike, this is a very good idea, which I appreciate, but can we talk about this some other time and get to fix it properly and not impromptu like this?

Please?" I asked, rolling my eyes and giggling.

He was mute for some minutes.

"So that means I'm getting NO from you?"

He asked curiously.

"Oh, poor Mike, don't be an emotional dimwit." I started laughing.

"Don't tell me you always have to get a YES from all those ladies you hit up on a daily basis?"

It was his turn to giggle this time. "It's okay, Jul, I understand."

I inhaled deeply; he inhaled deeply. We both inhaled deeply.

"I wish you were telling the truth now," he said slowly.

"How? I'm lost; can you explain? Please, if you don't mind?"

"Well, I only wish I had a particular lady who would be saying either yes or no to me on a daily basis." I scoffed lightly, and another season of awkward silence fell to the room.

I know I've once again disappointed his anticipation of a word from me.

I watched him beckon to the waitress, who swiftly came to the table.

He asked for the bill; it was provided, and he paid.

"Should I see you off? Maybe accompany me to your apartment since it's getting late already?"

He asked, his eyes filled with so much innocence.

"If you wish to," I shrugged off my shoulder.

"You drive?" I nodded sideways.

I hate coming out with my car whenever I'm sure of taking liquor outside.

I was scared of being tipsy and driving myself into an accident, so I always leave my car at home before coming out.

"Okay, mind if I drop you off at your apartment?"

"That's not a big deal if only you are ready to drive all the way through Miami."

He stared at me roughly; I feigned ignorance of it and suddenly burst into a session of chuckling.

He knew I was joking. I play and joke a lot, but only with people like Andrew and now, Michael.

Odd, but for a reserved personality like me, tonight was the first time I was really having the fun of my life, all thanks to Michael, who didn't come up to me just like every other species of his gender. He stood up, adjusted his long shirt, which was folded neatly and seductively, just like the way I wanted to see my man dress, even though Peter had a good dress sense, but the appearance was always sexually attractive to me.

He then stretched out his hand and helped me to my feet.

So gentlemanly was he, unlike Andrew, who would never care to open the door for you or offer you a seat.

We walked out silently from the restaurant; the high school couples who were making a hell of a noise at the back were no longer in sight.

They must have probably gone home to fuck. Well, it wasn't my business anyway.

We walked silently to his car; he tried bringing up a topic to converse on, but maybe I had talked too much already for the evening, and I've exhausted all the speech prowess in me.

When we got to his car, he had helped me open the door and waited patiently for me to get in.