You Can Have Any Woman… Except The One You Truly Want
You’re not like the rest of these betas.
You’re hot. You make six figures. You know how to make girls squirt within the first two minutes of fucking them. They cum so hard you have them begging you to impregnate them with your genetically superior babies. Yet you still don’t want any of them.
It’s easy not to fall in love with the women you pound when the one you truly want wants nothing to do with you. Yes, she calls you her best friend in the world. Yes, she’s slept next to you in your bed, the smell of her shampoo lingering on your pillows days after she’s left. You wish there was a way to photograph smells, so you could keep the memory forever. You want to breathe her in deep and never let her go. The chokehold she has on you is incredible.
To be with her would be too good to be true. You don’t trust yourself to not fuck it up and you have huge problem with rejection, you’d never be the one to say anything to her about how you feel. But if she confessed to you, finally, that she’s always been in love with you? You’d marry her on the spot. Such women only come around once in a lifetime. Even your friends have joked about you eventually getting married, living together, having her perfect babies. You can’t help but talk to the women you fuck about this girl, right after cumming deep into their guts and making them cry off your big cock. They try hard not to be jealous but you can tell by how thick their silence is that they wish they were her. Nobody could ever come close.
You talk constantly. Your daily routine, your whole life is interwoven with hers. She knows everything about you. She was with you through your lowest, celebrated you during your highest. She’s the first one you text when you have good news and the only person you’ve ever let see you cry. To lose her would be certain death. You were never one for risks… so you stay torturously quiet. Listen to her tell you about all the guys she lets run right through her. The ones who don’t deserve her, especially the ones she says she’s fallen in love with. When she tells you shit like that you get so angry your dick rages too. Annoyingly rock hard. Just like when you went to Hawaii with her and she flounced around you in her tiny white bikini: radiant, god-like, ultimately untouchable. You can’t even count how many times you had to excuse yourself, wading in the ocean, trying to think of your mom’s chest hair so that your angry boner might finally subside. It would, just for a few seconds, only for you to hear her say your name and for all the blood in your body to immediately rush to your ever-flustered appendage.
If you could fuck her you wouldn’t fuck her like you fuck like all those girls in your phone, begging you to come over and rail them. You jackhammer them til you bust and then you fall asleep without giving a single shit. No, with her, you’d be different. You’d kiss her, go slow, talk to her, call her your baby, say things like “I know” when she tells you it feels so, so good. Tell her all the things you’ve always wanted to say now that your cock is so deep into her guts she can’t even moan anymore. All the things you’d never say to anyone else because they’re nothing compared to her. They’re just glorified, walking fleshlights. She…she is your religion.
It was hard to come to terms with how deeply in love you’ve fallen for her. You die at the thought of her saying no to you and the idea of your feelings being completely one-sided makes you want to throw up. You let yourself get here, you chose for your obsession to get this deep, and the best part? There’s no end in sight. She’s not going anywhere! She said so herself. You’re trapped in her web, and even though she’s never actually said anything about it, you have a growing suspicion she knows exactly what the fuck she’s doing. You’re at her mercy and she has no intent of ever releasing the grip she has on you. Strangely? You wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d rather die her noble stead, forever relegated to best friendship, blocking yourself from ever finding anything more than whatever this is, because pretending she might one day be yours is infinitely better than realizing you’ll never have her. Never did.
