"I fucked your friend," she types on her phone, smiling to herself as she remembers the last two nights.
For two years she has been conflicted, her need to be naughty and her need to be honest warring for supremacy of her soul. But clarity finally came, as many things do, as she sat naked in the hot tub, her clit positioned just so against the jets, came this time in the form of a phone call from the "rugged adventurer" as the ad called him, the rugged adventurer, artist client and friend of her new boyfriend, whose definition of a non-monogamous open relationship she is about to test with every joyous fiber of her thoroughly naughty being,
"What are you doing?" the rugged adventurer had asked, a somewhat plausible question of an artist to a gallery owner, if not of a guy to his friend's new highly acclaimed fuck.
"Sitting naked in my hot tub," was her open, honest, and of course naughty answer, followed by the even naughtier "How soon can you get here?" when he responded with the obvious question.
Now sitting on her porch, staring out at the mountains, feeling almost completely fucked, for that was a need that would never be sated, and very thoroughly spanked, and Oh God had she missed having her ass slapped during those two years of open, honest, spiritual, non-naughty sex she text messages, over the protests of the rugged adventurer sitting next to her, every detail of two nights of spanking, kissing, licking, sucking, fingering, and fucking with the growing ecstatic recognition that she is whole again.
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