Like being the object of affection? This girl did, even if it was a little on the cheap side…
Each week Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a pic to write a 100 word story about.
This week’s story is about a hot object, so to speak.
Okay, so he called me Hot Stuff.
I liked it.
Hot Stuff, get me this or that, he’d say.
Yeah, he ordered me around, but it made me feel needed. And when I brought him whatever it was he wanted, he’d grab my ass or my breasts, or pull me over and lay a wet one on me, whispering with his warm breath in my ear, love you, Hot Stuff, you’re the best! Shivers. I loved it.
So when he pulled the plug, I didn’t get it. Couldn’t get it. Everything emptied out of me.
I sold the trailer. Never returned.