The Other Woman (Erotic Prose)

I am not the woman you married.

The woman you married was sexy, a little sassy, and never too wild.

The woman you married was a professional, a lover, and a mom.

Something has happened to the woman you married.

Neither of us saw it coming, but she is now gone.

She has been replaced.

The new woman is in your bed.

The new woman looks like her.

The new woman sounds like her.

The new woman feels like her.

The new woman is recognizable yet unfamiliar.

She frightens you.

She frightens me sometimes.

The Other Woman is profane, and sexual, and hungering.

She is naughty, and seductive, and craving your flesh more each day.

She is evolving, becoming something a little bit dangerous.

She is becoming more fully the sexual beast that always lurked inside.

She is ravenous for things that always lured her but were forbidden.

Now she wants the forbidden things all at once.

She is chasing you, pursuing you as if you are the fantasy lover she could not have.

She has never looked up from her knees more often in her life.

The view from down here looks very, very good.

She is making herself the fantasy you never allowed yourself, darling,

The object of desire you would never pursue, because that’s not you.

The Other Woman unzips things a little too eagerly.

She removes your shirts without a care for the buttons.

She takes you into her mouth like a servant kneeling before  her king.

She loves the hissing sound you make as her tongue tickles just the right spot.

The woman who replaced the woman you married, doesn’t want to “make love.”

“Making love” was for the woman you once knew.

This woman wants to sweat and swear and beg for more.

The Other Woman just wants to fuck.

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