Outside the wind whipped freezing weather through us all, the trees, our streets, our flimsy coats, but inside I was warm and toasty. A log glowed with its dying embers and my heater spewed warm air into the apartment like a never-ending breath. I sat at the computer, my desktop, searching for apartments or duplexes, anything that would fit me and Peyton when I heard a quick knock at my door and the handle turn.
The Neighbor wasn’t due to come over until 9, after the gym and after dinner. It was only 6.
I looked up and he filled the doorway with his black pea coat and rosy cheeks. “Fuck, it’s cold out there! And I don’t want to go to the gym.” He looked at me meaningfully.
“Are you saying you’d like to do a horizontal workout?” I was half joking, but hopeful.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” he answered with a smile.
I stood up and closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around his cold exterior while giving him a soft kiss, dropping everything I’d been doing. “You’re so cold!” I exclaimed and then screamed when two ice cold hands wrapped around my breasts. “What the fuck!” and I yelled again laughing.
“You’re so hot!!” he laughed and squeezed his handfuls with gusto.
I stood there patiently while his hands warmed up and he wiggled his eyebrows at me. I stepped back and his hands dropped to the bulge in his jeans. A ridge larger than a banana had appeared where none had been only moments before. I hmmm’d my approval and rubbed it and sat back down at the computer. He walked around to lay by the dying fire and play with the cat.
I wondered at my accessibility, how open and willing I am to drop whatever it is I’m doing to play with him: is that real? Is that sustainable? I pushed the thoughts out of my head and went to kneel beside him.
I kissed his soft lips buried in whiskers and felt his cool hands reach for my breasts again. I lifted my shirt and shifted one into his mouth.
His warm, wet mouth pulled at me and I was reminded of all those months of nursing my baby. The tug, the pull, the stinging surge of milk as it came to a head and spilled out. I wished I could feel that again. I switched breasts and he continued to suckle. Eyes closed, hands stroking the backs of my jean-clad thighs and where they joined. I moaned a little and pulled away.
His bulge was even bigger.
He stood up and I raised up on my knees. “I’m wondering if I should leave without fucking you. I told myself I would,” he said, always the game player.
“Do whatever you want,” I replied looking up at him and undoing his belt. “You probably should leave.” I peeled away his jeans and pulled out the head of his giant cock, stiff and full of itself. He helped maneuver his underpants and his balls while I licked the big head and slowly, yet softly, drove it into my mouth.
His moans encouraged me and I pushed my gag reflex away as I took as much of him as I could, still 2 inches short of all of it. My saliva began a trail down my wrist as I sucked and pulled, completely lost on my knees. He was now stark naked.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he said. “I’ve missed that so much!” I felt a pang of guilt and quickly squashed it. I do what I can.
“Let’s go to your bed,” he said, hand out to me. I took it and got to my feet and quickly followed him into my room. He lit a candle and it danced for us in the winter dusk. His naked body gleamed as he came to me and took my face in his hands.
We kissed and kissed and he whipped my clothes off of me and pressed himself against me. I wanted to say “I love you,” but kept it to myself. He pushed me roughly onto the bed instead and climbed on top, growling.
His cock pushed its way beyond my folds and spread me wide open. I wriggled and grabbed at his flanks to pull him in closer. He kissed my ear and my neck. I wanted to say “I love you,” again, but kept silent.
When he began to move I mewled and thrust and ground back. He slammed into me 1000 times and I rocked back into the mattress like a ragdoll. I came again and again and he split my legs and ground on my clit with his abdomen. I went wild with painful pleasure and wondered if I would cum this way, like scissor sisters.
“I love your cock, I fucking love your cock,” I whispered over and over, though really I wanted to say only “I love you.”
Sweat began to slick between us and I was spurred to buck harder and faster. He. will. never. forget. me. I thought. I am more than everything. The pounding, the beating I took filled my head and my arms like sand and my eyes saw only stars. We were these humping, thumping animals rutting the fuck out of each other. And then we stopped, exhausted. I felt my heart battering against its cage and I put my hand on his and felt the same fluttering. I couldn’t move.
“I really do love your cock,” I said between heavy breaths. “And I love you,” I added bravely. “I love you, too.” We laughed at my silliness, but he didn’t reply. There was only silence.
I felt tears well up inside overwhelmed by his lack of response, by him being so TN, so android-like, like the code for /reciprocate “I love you” got broken.
Slowly he pulled out and lay beside me. “I hate it when you go,” I pouted.
“But I can’t lay next to you if I don’t; I’m too far away.” I closed my eyes and let the tears come. Disappointment and satisfaction nearly equal parts of each.
He stroked my hair a few times then seemed to remember that that’s too intimate and stopped. “You get a good enough workout in?” I asked, forcing my sadness away.
“Indeed I did! Thank you!” He leaned over and kissed me deeply. We lay together for a few more minutes before he got up to leave and I decided to join him for a store-run for dinner. When we got home we said we’d see each other later, but we wouldn’t.
At 9:15 he called to say he’d decided to go to bed while the mood was hot. He was worried I’d feel rejected. I didn’t, but it made me wonder again at my availability and openness. When he’d come over I was in the middle of doing work that was important to me, but I dropped it all instantly, not to mention I would never cancel a cuddle with him just because I was tired. But that’s on me — bad boundaries and everything. I never get full. Ever. I’m a bucket with holes.
At least I get fucked. There’s always that. And I love him. Even if he isn’t entirely comfortable with his love for me. Maybe this move will be for the best.