The Jasper I last fucked.The Jasper my vagina presently drooled for.The same Jasper I told that I didn’t want to fuck again.Yet my mind kept replaying episodes of the oh so sweaty,dirty sex we had six months ago.Must be my time of the month,when all of a sudden,I lower my Miss-does-not-need-a-man guard and let myself wish for a penis somewhere around my severely independent vagina.I think of this man’s fuckability atmost one week every month.And because I try not to seem like an overly-greedy human being,I let him screw his girlfriend (and anyone else) twenty five days a month.
This particular day,my nipples were erect,vagina wet,lower lip bitten,hoping that he’d be the super-man I wanted him to be(for two hours),show up at my place and supply the much needed heroic dick.
See,this quirky Jasper is extremely disposable.He is capable of fucking a woman,deleting her number,disappearing for four months,implying that fate brought them together(when they finally bump into eachother at the grocery store) and asking for that vagina as if it was owed to him.
The Jasper I last fucked.He was self-less (atleast in bed he was),possessed the appropriate amount of douchiness,more attractive than even he knew,taller than all the guys I’d dated before,dark and most of all,he never once asked about how my grandma was doing when all he wanted was vagina.
Beautiful in his own mystical ways.