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Old lovers are a dime a dozen, new ones are a million bucks.

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Jason poked me on Facebook. I didn’t even realize it was happening until one day I finally did, like noticing that chip in your windshield.

We struck up a chat and he asked if we could get together to “catch up.” Curious, I agreed.

Jason is ten years my junior, a PhD student, and bisexual. We met on a steamy September afternoon in 2011 and spent that night naked and bathed in sweat, his fat black cat bored and staring in the corner. He made me feel smart and funny and I liked that he was into men. He liked my supportive, open-minded nature. However, our honeymoon was short-lived.

He was also flaky and unresponsive, had a delusional belief that he was hung like a horse, when he was a regular dude, and he demanded obscene amounts of my attention while he bounced dissertation issues off of me due to my academic background while then deluging me with ex-girlfriend horror stories. He feigned interest in what I had to say, but couldn’t wait to get the conversation back to either his writings or that other crazy, fucked up thing his ex-girlfriend had done to him. I felt used by him — and ignored — and what was at first very promising, soon only served to irritate me.

He was one of the original men in my life when I started this blog — it was him, Phillip, Kevin, and The Neighbor — and as I came back down to earth and realized I was fracturing myself from use of random cock, I froze the dating to the four of them, and told them all I was trying to piece myself back together.

At some point later that fall, Jason suggested we stop using condoms — we’d go get tested and only go bareback with each other. I agreed because on some 16-year-old girl level, it felt sweet, and I felt extra special. It was the perfect agreement until I met Phillip for our third “date.”

I’d fucked Phillip once before I’d met Jason, and without a condom. He was cautious with his lovers, apparently, and didn’t “presume” that we’d have sex that night, so he had no protection. Same story for our next tryst. His strong hands kneaded my back and slid my panties down, he massaged my pussy lips, too and I pushed my bottom up into his hand. I had no will power when I discovered we were condom-less once again and I saw his gigantic erection spring away from his boxers. I never told Jason I’d cheated on him.

But then again, he was flaky and I was pissed, and I trusted Phillip. It all turned out fine in the end. By March, Jason and I had died on the vine anyway, TN and I had stopped using condoms, and I never heard from Phillip again once I told him we would have to use protection going forward. Kevin was always peripherally in the picture – where he continues to lurk – but at a distance.

So my affair with Jason was braided in with this blog and with those three other men, with promises of fluid fidelity, and with my growing feelings for TN. Today, we finally saw each other after nearly a year.

“Why did we stop seeing each other?” he asked me, his bright blue eyes accented by his blue shirt.

“I’m not sure, really. We just did. You got a girlfriend. At least that’s what all the Internet cats on your Facebook wall told me.”

He laughed and said yes, then we caught up. I filled him in on my life and my love, told him the condensed version of the Hy-TN saga. “God, he’s such an idiot!” he laughed more than once when I shared with him some of TN’s more famous, stupid words. He filled me in on his, his girlfriend’s hangups about bi men and such, more of his dissertation stresses.

I enjoyed my coffee with him. I know I looked particularly fetching today – not a way I generally feel. My eyes framed with just the right amount of dark eye-makeup and mascara were a shade of blue I feel particularly lucky to have. My breasts, full and round, peaked out over my topless sundress, my arms covered in a casual grey cardigan. He wants me to meet his girlfriend — Internet cats girl — because he thinks she can do some work for me. I was reminded to not mention his secret proclivities for men to her, but apparently she knows “all about me,” whatever that means. I didn’t bother to ask.

I went to meet him not sure what he wanted from me. Was he single again? Did he want me to join them? What would I do if propositioned? I honestly can’t remember if I am committed to TN or not. How is that even possible? And I’m afraid to ask him because I’m loving this bubble we’re currently in.

I feel safe, loved, committed to, and cared about 90% of the time. Maybe 85%. Even a handful of months ago I didn’t feel loved at all, but now I do. He hugs me, talks to me, talks me down away from the edge. He pays for everything he can for me to help ease my financial burdens and is going to pay me to sell his car for him. I think if he could pay me for sex, he would.

He loves me, I’m more sure of it than ever, yet this knowledge doesn’t stop me from wanting other men almost to spite him for not saying the magic words. Seeing Jason today kicked the sleeping dragon awake. And I feel like an asshole. This is why even though I’ve been stable and faithful, I still feel my dissoluteness deep down, coursing through my blood. It’s part of why I want to fuck another couple.

I can never make him say, “I love you, Hyacinth,” but I sure as hell can spread my legs to someone else.

He invited me to a potluck.

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“You home?” he texted. “I just knocked and no one answered.”

“No,” I replied. “I was, but then I left to get baby-blocking pills. Home in 15.”

When I climbed the stairs with my new suitcase I fumbled with my keys and the kitchen mats under my arm my mother had bought me. His door opened. He looked handsome and sweet in his basketball shorts and shirtlessness.

“Hi!” I said beaming. He beamed back. “Were you waiting for me?? What are you doing?”

“Yes. I had my eye on the peephole for 20 minutes waiting for you!”

“Ok, come on in,” I said swinging the door open.

We walked in and I futzed around chattering about nothing as I put my things down. Arms free I opened them and walked towards him. I’d decided to hug him as I would any friend after a time apart. He walked into my hug and held me tight. “You did it!” I said squeezing him. I felt his arms tighten around me and his head bury into my neck.

“I did!” he mumbled into my skin.

I stepped back and rubbed his arms and walked away and went about tidying up my apartment.

“I want to lie down in your bed,” he announced.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

I joined him and flopped my suitcase on the bed. “Are you packing??” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t. Come talk to me!”

I put my chore aside and cleared a space for me to lay next to him. He wanted to know all about my days away from him, every little thing I did. I went through each day, laughing as I set milestones around the pics I’d sent him. He touched my leg, my arm. I leaned between his.

“C’mere,” he beckoned. “Lie down.” I did.

His hands found my skin as we continued to talk. I reached back to adjust my panties and pulled a rip in the lace. “Goddamnit,” I complained, “I just tore my panties! I made a hole!”

“Lemme see,” he said leaning over me. “What about this hole?” he asked with a dirty smirk and a grab for my pussy. He made hard, circular motions on my clit over my panties.

“Well, there’s a hole in there, too,” I teased.

His hand worked magic. I had trouble finishing my weekend story. When I was done he pulled my panties down and pooled his shorts on the floor, spread my knees and positioned himself over me.

“Ok, tell me about your weekend,” I said as he dipped his fingers inside of me.

“When my parents met me at the airport,” he began, “the car was packed and my brother was in there.” He removed his hand from me and gripped his cock instead and aimed it at my wetness. “We went immediately to the cabin,” he said as he slid inside of me.

I struggled to concentrate as he slowly, gently fucked me. His words never wavered as he pumped against me. I gripped the metal swirls of my headboard and did my best to listen.

He spoke of history tours and museums, “That’s when I bought you your souvenir — I’ll have to bring that over later,” he said to himself as he continued to thrust. His face was placid, his hips were rabid. I was a laughing, titillated mess.

His story finally over we forgot to talk anymore. He pounded into me and my pussy squelched around us. I kissed his neck, grazed my teeth against his jaw and kissed his ear. He buried his face in my neck and hair and kissed me, sucked on my breast and pistoned away like a mechanical pony.

I tossed my head back and forth and watched him through my lashes. His eyes never left my face.

He stood up and pulled out, exhausted. “I need a break for a second,” he panted and offered me his cock. I took him in my mouth, my pussy a light, fragrant bouquet in my nostrils.

“Mmm, I taste good,” I mumbled around his meat. “You should try this for yourself some time.”

I continued to slurp and suck and grip until he gently pushed me back and told me to scoot over. He spread my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed and kneeled down. His mouth descended on me with gentle pressure. I told him to use his fingers to stretch my hole and he obediently followed directions.

I panted and writhed under his ministrations. My hands tingled, I saw stars. I needed a break and begged him to stop. He lifted his head and climbed up on top of me. I pulled his face down to mine and kissed me off of him like a layer of frosting.

He fingered me, he fucked me, he sucked me, he loved me, he hit me, he watched me. I fucked him back, bucked on him, loved him, watched him back.

Standing on the floor, my bottom hanging off the edge, he parted my legs like the sea and watched my tits bounce and flounce to the rhythm of his cock. His face beautiful in the soft light of my room, his shoulders broad and arms flexed.

He reached behind him and handed me my vibrator. I came hard and loud around him. I quivered and cried as he told me I was hot and beautiful, how good it felt. He handed it to me again and another orgasm screamed through me.

He pulled out and pulled me with him as I sobbed alone. “Hy, it’s ok. Come here,” he crooned and opened his arms. I moved into the crook of his arms and cried into the fur of his chest. His fingers traced the lines of my back as I tried to gather myself.

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked.

“For what??”

“For making your erection go away.” He’d gone soft during my second orgasm.

“Aw, it’s ok. It’s tired, don’t worry.” I still felt bad. Then again, he is only human and an hour of vigorous, hard fucking can undo any man.

We lay tangled together for a while until I got antsy. This is when he usually leaves. I felt it. But I was wrong.

I got up and handed him his glass of wine. He made no move to leave. Instead we lay in bed and I asked more questions about his weekend. He was happy to be home, back where he belonged, he said. “That reminds me, lemme go get your gift.”

He slipped out and was back in a minute. “Have you heard back from Jack and Emma, yet?”

Last night I’d received an email on Adult Friend Finder inviting me to a sex party in another city in November and December. I’d mentioned it to The Neighbor and he was interested. I’d immediately texted my friend and ex-lover Jack to ask what he knew about it. TN wanted to know if Jack and Emma would be willing to help him feel comfortable being watched while having sex. “I’ve only ever been watched once, and that was with Marian. I’m nervous,” he’d told me.

“No, not yet. Lemme check.” I tick-tacked away on the laptop as he pulled out a slim white, rectangular package for me. I stopped typing and looked at it. It was a beautiful metal bookmark.

“Oh, TN. Thank you! It’s beautiful!” I felt awkward and flattered in equal measures, the hot laptop warmed my naked belly ignorant of my emotions. The price tag was still visible: $18.

This gesture, this nice, non-keyring-with-flashing-first-name gift, floored me. It was kind, it was sweet, it was thoughtful. It wasn’t him. But, I guess it was.

I opened it and read the inscription on the packaging as he told me more about the artist. “He wanted to incorporate nature into all his designs and felt that art and the world should coincide as one, not compete.”

I put it down and searched my email for any response from Jack and Emma. There was none.

“Are you really serious about this sex party?” I asked.

“I am. I’m really interested.”

We’d go the end of December. After our 5k in early December. After a night spent shrooming together with Downstairs Neighbor. After plans of spending Thanksgiving together.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” he started to ask me as I folded the computer shut. “Oh fuck, you’re in San Fran, aren’t you? Fuck. I was going to ask you to go to a potluck with me. Oh well, you can be there in spirit because I need you to tell me what to cook and how to do it. I need an Italian themed salad.”

I laughed lightly and gave him a recipe for something decidedly not a salad; a tomato, garlic and basil concoction that melts in your mouth and makes bread the vehicle to heaven.

Eventually, the clock, though still early, crowded in on me. I stood and dressed in a t-shirt and pj shorts and went to light some firewood. He followed. He nibbled on Peyton’s Halloween candy and we talked about my trip tomorrow — both my nerves and the pedantic what’s and whens — as I sat in front of the fire.

He intermittently sucked on my nipples and I seductively played with myself between my words of cooking wisdom for his potluck. It felt stupidly normal, stupidly awesome.

“I am so happy to be back he said,” lying on the floor and tossing a softball in the air. “Being back makes me realize all that I have here.” I looked up from my recipe notes and bounded over to him and playfully flung myself down on him, pinning him down.

My free-spirit burst at the seams as I playfully humped him and he wrapped his arms around me and giggled at my antics. I kissed his cheeks and hopped up off of him as quickly as I’d descended and returned to my spot on the couch to finish his cooking instructions. It was as honest a reflection of my feelings as I could possibly muster.

I studied my note and gathered myself back up.

“I’m getting antsy,” he gently warned. “I need to go home soon.”

“I know, I’m hurrying,” I answered with a smile.

I finished my recipe and handed it to him. He bent down and kissed each breast in turn and then me. I walked him to the door and I confirmed that he’d be up 6:10 am so we could leave by 6:20.

“G’night, Hy,” he smiled over his shoulder.

“G’night, TN,” I said back and shut the door. His words of wonder at what he would do for the next 7 days rang in my ears, his words of longing for my pussy, his words of praise. They all enclosed around me like a giant hug and have moved with me from room to room.

“I had to tell the sex party people that you’re my boyfriend. I hope that’s ok,” I’d said worried.

“No, it’s ok with me,” he’d answered.

Has something happened? Has something changed? Is there a happy ending to this??

Interlaced with these frilly sentiments are jack hammer reminders of old words, cruel and dirty. I haven’t forgotten a thing, but goddamn does it feel good to try to forget.

 

 

Even I can’t stop the seasons.

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Love and interest are fickle friends.  For months I was moon-eyed over my young lover.  I noticed when his car was home, if his lights were on.  I held my breath when his door slammed shut — would my door rattle from his knuckles 2 seconds later??  Seeing his boyish face made my day, hearing his deep, news-broadcaster voice tickled me, and seeing his fit, hair-dusted body made me want to unwrap him like a Christmas present and pounce.

But something has changed.

It is the autumn of my affair with The Neighbor.  Spring brought passion and bursts of colors; highs were the only notes on the breeze.  Summer was long and arduous — I barely survived the heat of my own emotions, his refusal of me, and our irrefutable chemistry.  Today, it is fall.  The leaves of my love are turning and will soon waft to the ground like so many dizzying streaks of gold.  When winter comes, the blanket of cold will insulate me as I rejuvenate away from him and our strange, misshapen relationship.

I don’t know when or how it happened, but it did.  His glorious, meaty cock still haunts me and I admit to lusting after it, but my conquering of it is no longer tied to my heart.  If I get to wrap my fingers around hot pinkness, then so be it.  If not, oh well.  I will live without sex.  A piece of Hy dies as I write that.

Saturday night was a dazzling night in our hobbled relationship.  As asked, I woke him up in time to get ready.  It wasn’t my fault that calling his name and gently shaking him didn’t work and my only option was to slip my hand beneath his puffy white comforter and find his sleeping manhood with my hand.  What else should I have done?  Honestly.

I stroked him slowly while I watched his face, his eyes covered in the black mask that had come with his bondage kit.  His breathing was even and ignorant of my presence.  I increased the pressure of my hand and he jerked awake.

“What the hell??”

“Wake up, TN,” I said smiling.

He pulled the mask off and looked at me bleary-eyed.  He rolled onto his back so I could get full access to his erection.

“Can you wake me up like this every day?”

“You say that nearly every day.”

“Well, I mean it.”

I ignored him and continued my ministrations.

It wasn’t long before I swung a boot clad leg over his waist and slowly slid down on him, my skirt hiked up to my waist and my ridiculously tacky sequined wolf shirt sparkling in the candlelight.  His cock hit me in my throat and I flushed with warmth as I rocked on him.  He gripped my waist and I increased my tempo.  Tremors skittered across my skin as a climax snaked its way through me.

He reached for my breasts, but pulled his hands back with a laugh when he got nothing but sequins.  I laughed, too, and bent over and kissed him just as I released around us both.  “I guess I’ll have to take a shower now before the party,” he murmured into my mouth.

“I guess so.”

At the party he was attentive and hovering.  He encouraged me to eat off his appetizer plate, refilled my glass, and was sure to be shoulder to shoulder with me whenever another man came within my orbit.  I was amused and smiled to myself.  Silly Neighbor, I thought, tricks are for kids.

Our chemistry ultimately belied our ruse of easy, close friendship when an old friend of mine cornered him and asked if he and I had ever dated.  His “No comment,” clearly an admission of guilt, her smile of satisfaction an admission of her pride of sniffing us out.

Our dance continues, but the song is ending.  How many loving, connected conversations can we have?  How many tiffs easily repaired?  How many mind-blowing sexual encounters?  How many tears, hugs, kisses, games, and parries before we admit it will never be more than this?

He thinks we will be friends in 10 years.  He thinks we’ll be close friends in 10 years.  How do I tell him that it might not happen?  That I see no such future between us?  That things are winding down?

He came over last night because he was sad.  I rubbed his chest, made him laugh, and finally slipped my hand into his shorts to grip his pretty, pretty penis and rub it to a big, full handful.  He flipped me on my back and filled me to the brim.  The lights were on and I struggled under his steady, smirking gaze as I slowly, embarrassingly lost my shit beneath him.

I drenched my bed and us, climaxed and orgasmed around him, heaved and sobbed little dry sobs and then we talked some more.  He was back to being sad and anxious about an upcoming trip home.  I told him he’d do great, that he had this.  He’d be back before he knew it.  He lazily traced lines on my arm with the pads of his fingertips.  It was close to 2 am and my yawns came more frequently.

We joked about the sexy pics we’d exchanged lately.  The one of him with his fat cock hanging out of his jeans and poking up past his t-shirt-covered belly button and the one where I’m stretched out on my side pulling down my pj shorts.  I wanted him to make that his phone wallpaper and vice versa.  I’m going to stump for it.

Good morning.

“What do you do with the pics I’ve sent you?” I wondered.

“I keep them all.  They’re on my phone,” he paused for a beat then said, “And I appreciate every single one of them.  Very, very much.”

Words like those from him are like cool drafts of water on my parched throat.  “Well, I’m glad.”

More yawning.  More snuggling.  More laughing.

Then he realized the time and dressed.  I called him over to me before he left, “C’mere.  Let me give you a hug.”  I stood on my knees on the bed, letting the sheets drop, and held out my arms.  He walked into them awkwardly.  I kissed him on the cheek and squeezed anyway.  This is what friends do, after all: they support and love.  “You’re gonna do great.  I promise.  Good luck.”

He squeezed back and put his other hand gingerly on my hip before he pulled away.  “Thanks.”

He walked out of my room and I called out, “Safe travels!!” then, “And thanks for the fuck!”

I heard him laugh as he shut the front door behind him and I snuggled down into bed.  The towel covering the epic wet spot pleasantly rough on my bare bottom.

I remember the month of July as the month I couldn’t breathe and food tasted like packing popcorn.  I laid nearly comatose every spare second I had in bed watching Cheers in between fleeting hookups and interactions with him and going to work.  I knew then that it would pass.  I knew it.  I’ve been through worse and came out alive, after all, but fucking Christ was it unpleasant.

I had to let myself be a pathetic, sniveling shit for a few weeks in order to move to the next season.  I molted.  It wasn’t obvious then because I hadn’t fully emerged yet, but I’d like to think it’s more apparent now.  I forget about him most days and I check my libido at the door like a good, stoic German woman should.  She has better things to do than lead with her pussy all day.

I wonder what the future of this blog will be as I enter this strange limbo of autumn.  I am extremely busy — too busy to go hunting — but this is a blog about my dissolute life and I’m not feeling all that dissolute.  I’m beginning to feel like now Hyacinth is that best friend I made at summer camp, but I really, really don’t want to see her go.  Not just yet.

I still want to be dissolute.

I faked an orgasm, but I doubt he believed me.

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I’ve been turned off and shut down towards men in general lately. I get emails daily from interested suitors and I scoff at them. I’m just a shiny object on the shelf to them. A trinket, a pretty thing, an opportunity for release. The Law Student has set me back, made me gun-shy; The Neighbor has broken my heart and hobbled me.

The men that turn my head write me beautiful notes complimenting me on my self portraits (both written and photographic). They acknowledge that I’m real and that they see me, but I don’t trust one word out of their flapping gums and treacherous fingertips. I’ve lived on lip service for months now and more recently the week in which I engaged with LS. Who goes down on a woman with whom he has amazing chemistry and spent a week of his life intellectually seducing and then basically never talks to her again?? — I should add “exhausted” to the L O N E L Y.

Last night my softball team and I agreed to meet for batting practice at a local park at 6 pm. TN, always a cheerful participant (and owner of the bat we love to use), also wanted to come. At 4 pm the storm front that had gathered the previous night began to rain down on the city, its grey clouds stretched out for miles like smudged pencil. Texts and emails flew. Who was afraid of a little rain?? Apparently no one, and so we agreed to meet despite the hazy wetness.

TN, Peyton and I were the first three to arrive. We trudged out to the far end of the field to avoid muddy spots and tossed the ball waiting for my teammates. The rain stopped and we were left with a tepid humidity surrounding us like a damp hug. My Converse filled with water and my cheeks grew flushed. TN and Peyton chased each other taking turns being zombies.

Only one teammate actually showed up in the end and more than 30 minutes late. In that time alone with TN he made innuendos and silly jokes, all of which I let slip by like so many pennies in front of a millionaire. I didn’t want to cash in, though I couldn’t help but notice his indecent bulge. The poor guy can’t even wear gym shorts without looking like he’s stuffed a sock down his crotch. It’s downright indecent.

I’d invited my teammate over for dinner along with one who didn’t show up, so when darkness fell on us with a final puff at 7:15 we packed up and went home. I did not invite TN to join us, nor tell him of my plans.

My girlfriends, Tina and Haley, teased and played with Peyton while I got started on dinner: pan-seared boneless rib eye, parsnip and potato mash with cream, Gruyère and thyme, and sautéed asparagus. It took about 5 minutes for us to remember that the debate was on and so we began discussing where we fell on the spectrum. “Where’s TN?” one of them asked me.

“I don’t know. Next door or working out, I presume,” I replied chopping parsnips. “Do you want me to have him come over to watch the debate with us?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” they both agreed.

I texted him and went about my evening. The wine flowed, the laughter was raucous. I was tending the food alone in the kitchen when I heard a quick knock and my front door open. TN walked in and waved a bottle of wine in the air. “I’m here! And I brought wine!” he bellowed with a smile.

The girls said hello and he sat down with them as I wrapped up dinner. The debate had started 20 minutes before and I was eager to join the melee of yells and side conversations intermingled with Peyton’s My Little Pony on the computer in the corner.

We ate cross-legged on the floor and my friends moaned their pleasure and approval with each bite. TN politely declined dinner saying he hadn’t seen my text in time to not eat dinner first. The debate ended and we laid around the floor talking about the shit show we’d just seen: Tina hysterical that Romney might win and she’d lose the right to make decisions about her body, Haley a little shell-shocked in general as she learned more about Romney from us, and TN cool and pundit-like as he explained it will be nearly impossible for the Romney/Ryan ticket to win.

I accidentally found myself sitting on TN’s foot and he wiggled his toes. I moved off, not wanting to encourage any kind of intimacy, and stood to clean dishes with Haley.

When we came back TN announced he was going home. We all said goodbye and took turns reading to Peyton. I was the last to kiss chubby, sweet cheeks and brush perfectly colored hair off of temples, a whispered ritual of love.

Back with my girlfriends on the balcony our discussion soon turned to sex and penises [bread and butter]. Youthful and lost they remind how far I’ve come, hopeful and searching they remind me of what I’ve lost.

Our rants and peels of laughter were soon interrupted by an uproarious and ridiculous laugh from below. Downstairs Neighbor had overheard us.

We convinced him to come upstairs and hang out with us and no sooner had he sat down than TN poked his head out of his balcony. DN convinced him to rejoin us.

With five of us crowded on the balcony I sat feeling warm and full and happy. I love people. I love that I’m the hub of so many of my circles and that my friends are actually friendly. I blossom as a bud in sunshine.

Yet, I was on edge, tensed for flight, waiting for that ill-formed spoken thought from TN. But it never came. He was generous, funny, and normal. Respectful in speech and action.

The girls left eventually with hugs, air-humps, and cries of glee. Puppies tumbling down the hillside, tails and ears flying. I turned to TN and DN. “So, it’s just the OG now.”

“Yep,” said DN sipping on his wine.

“Indeed,” added TN taking a sip of his.

We sat and laughed for a while longer, a spell cast on the three of us wherein we were blind to the elephant perched on my goddamned lap. Eventually, TN begged off again, but before he left I said, “I want to ask you something, but later, ok?”

“Sure, but why not now?”

“Because, I don’t want to.”

“Ok,” he shrugged and I waved to him from my seat as he left.

“He is so in love with you, Hy,” DN said as the front door slammed shut. “He just has no goddamned clue what he’s doing.”

I sighed. I’m so tired of hearing this, but it’s a fascinating example of human behavior and stubbornness. Everyone gets buzzed from the alcoholic fumes steaming off of this intoxicating, infuriating relationship. We want to figure it out, our curious natures striving to answer the age-old question of, “Why…?”

We hung out a little longer before I was ready to go to bed. I hugged my tall, furry downstairs neighbor goodnight, checked on Peyton, peeled off all my clothes and climbed into my bed. The crisp, clean linens cool on my skin a stark contrast with the warmth in my belly from a full night of friends, food, and wine. I picked up my phone and pecked at the keys.

I rolled out of bed and slugged some mouthwash and no sooner had I spit than I heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. I stood there naked in the light and pushed the door open. TN looked at me.

I was suddenly bashful and closed the door with a laugh and exclamation. I heard him crawl into my bed and when I opened the door he was buried under the snow caps of my down comforter. He peeked out at me. “Close your eyes!” I said still hiding behind the door, my shyness crushing me.

He covered his face and I bounded to the bed and leapt in. He opened the covers for me and snuggled close. “I’m so cold!” he said.

I couldn’t tell. To my cool skin he was hot, yet he shivered. His basketball shorts were silky against my belly and his bulge grew large under my hand. I slid my hand over it rapidly and laughed, “I’ll try to start a fire.” He laughed with me and held me to him.

I ran my fingers through his chest hair, reticent to express intimacy, yet emboldened by his presence. He closed his eyes and I dipped my hand beneath his shorts and gripped his even hotter erection. “Mmm.”

I worked the shaft like he showed me and when a pearl of liquid dripped out I raised my fingers to his lips and traced them lightly. He opened his mouth and his velvetness closed around my finger. I pulled my hand away and dipped down to my slit, so soft, so slick.

I pressed in two fingers and raised my hand back to his bow mouth and traced my juices on his plump lower lip. He sucked me into his mouth. I nipped at his shoulder.

He kicked off his shorts and rolled over on top of me. Our eyes locked and I tried not to let him really see me in the candlelight flickering across our skin; hiding in plain sight.

He paused for a moment outside my opening, his arms tense and hard caged me in. He reared back and gently slid in to the hilt. I moaned and bore down on him. He stroked me from the inside with his silken rod and his five o’clock shadow scoured my neck, jaw, and lips like a loofah.

I pulsed and squelched around him as he thrust into me. I felt at once in the right and wrong places.

He hitched my ankles up over his shoulders and pounded into me. I gripped the iron bars of my headboard and pushed back with all my might. With each thrust my confusion and passion grew in equal parts; I met his gaze through a haze of shadows and didn’t look away.

He released my legs and reached down to my bedside basket. “We haven’t done this in far too long,” he crooned as he handed me my vibrator. He slid to my left and swung my legs around, never leaving my insides. I switched the vibe on and felt an instant bloom, but try as I might I couldn’t walk through that door.

He pumped into me and kneaded my breasts and sucked on their peaks. He asked me what he needed to do and I told him not to change a thing, but still, my release eluded me. In a fit of desperation I cried out and panted, tensed like I think I do when it’s real. I felt guilty for not cumming.

He pulled out and kissed my swells some more. I lay next to him and panted then went back for “#2″ hoping for a real #1. Same distant tease with an initial hard bloom and stars. He kissed me and pinched my nipples. I shuddered for a fake #2, embarrassed and feeling more lonely than ever despite having a warm, willing man beside me.

He reached between my legs and slipped in two fingers and brought a swift (and real) climax hot and boiling through me. Different from cumming, my climax spreads like lava through my chest and core.

I kissed him again then and pushed him back onto his back and climbed between his legs. My mouth found his warm, wet cock and I fell on it slowly. I tasted goddamned delicious. I closed my eyes and mewled my pleasure, felt a small release of wetness between my thighs. I stopped when he missed his climax and dragged my breasts up his torso and captured his mouth with my own. My softness melted into his muscles and soft downy hair. I slithered back down to his cock and took him back in my mouth.

“I don’t think I’m going to cum again, Hy.” He chuckled. “I’ve cum 3 times today already.”

“Three!” I said with disbelief.

“Yes, once this morning, and twice when I got home after work and practice. I don’t think this will happen again.”

“Ok, but I still think you should keep your cock in my mouth while I jerk off again.”

He knelt next to my head as I laid back down again and spread my knees. He fucked my face and I closed my eyes. My orgasm tripped out of my reach again, unbeknownst to him. I looked up from under the trunk of his cock and whispered, “Jerk off on me.”

“On your face?”

“My tits.”

“I really don’t think I can –”

“Try.”

His hand became a blur as the vibrator churned on my clit painfully. Seconds later I was covered in hot jizz and his thick hand rubbed it over the mounds of my breasts. His hand slipped to my throat and, covered in semen, squeezed gently. My head exploded, but my body didn’t.

I wanted nothing more than to cum for him, for this, for me, so I shook and rattled for a third time, though in reality nothing happened except a disconnect within my own body. “Did you cum?” he asked, my acting so poor. I only nodded, bewildered and disappointed in myself.

He drew wet cum circles around my nipples and bent to take one in his mouth. When he kissed me, I could taste his sweet semen. He’d snowballed me with a devilish grin. I was delighted.

I laid in his arms and felt tired and heavy, strangely satisfied despite my small, emotional roller coaster. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

“It really is dumb. I’m afraid to ask you because I’m certain you’ll say no.”

“What is it??”

“I have a birthday/housewarming party to go to this Saturday and thought it’d be fun if you came with me.”

“Yeah, NO.”

“See!” I started to say then he interrupted me.

“Just kidding! I’d love to. It sounds like fun.”

He got up then and dressed. “Don’t forget to give me a proper kiss goodbye,” I said wearily from my pillow. He tucked me in and kissed me full on the mouth.

“I’ll lock the door behind me.” And he left.

I closed my eyes and cried a little for my poor, sore clit, clapped a little for my pussy that got pounded, and sighed a little for the games we play. In some strange way it felt like a pit stop on an old, familiar route, in others like a wrong turn. In the ongoing saga of Hy and TN last night was another page not fit to be dog-eared.

I fuck while she watches.

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50

It took me a minute to realize that I was in his bed, in his room.  There was a meaty, warm arm wrapped around me and that was why I was so hot.  I sat up and pulled off my San Francisco 49ers shirt and pajama shorts and crawled back under the covers.

The Neighbor opened up his arms and I snuggled inside his embrace and turned around to nuzzle his neck and pull off his basketball shorts.  I clutched and stroked his beautiful erection and sleepily, lo, half-drunkenly, we laughed and chatted about our night.  It’d been goddamned epic.

Wine and Sidecars, fucking and hugs, laughing and wrestling, orgasms and cum.

“I want some motherfucking waffles,” he declared between laughing.  I giggled and said I had a motherfucking headache.

“Do you have any ibuprofen?” I asked standing up and stretching in the morning light.

“If I do, it’ll be in the medicine cabinet.”  I quickly discovered he didn’t have any.

“I’ll be right back!” I called to him as I headed to his front door, naked and brash.  I checked to see if the coast was clear and jumped the five feet to my front door and let myself in and was met with the proof of my ill repute.

My black club chair was pushed to the side, the ottoman was draped in a poker felt, the lilies I’d bought for Noodle’s visit had opened up overnight and their sweet smell mixed with the remnants of incense.  To my left, by the kitchen table in a heap, was my black shirt and pale pink panties and matching lace bra.  Wine and half-filled champagne glasses were on every possible surface.

I looked around, but no one was there.  Quietly I walked to the back of the apartment and pushed open my door.  Noodle was mounted on Downstairs Neighbor, his cock buried deep inside of her.

“Hi, guys!” I beamed, partially hiding my nudity behind the door.

“Hy!” they exclaimed together startled.

“Whatchoo guys, doin’?” I asked laughing.

“Goddamnit, Hy!  Get out of here!” boomed DN with a laugh.  Noodle just giggled, never breaking contact with my neighbor.

“You want some fucking waffles?  TN’s starving and he wants some fucking waffles,” I announced, mirth plastered on my face.

“Yes,” DN said annoyed, “We want some fucking waffles, but later!  Get the hell out!”  I shut the door laughing and returned to TN’s bed, the ibuprofen in hand.

“They were fucking again, but I told them we want some motherfucking waffles so they’ll be done soon,” I said to him with a smile.

::

When Noodle arrived yesterday around 1:30 I was waiting for her on my stairwell; I couldn’t contain my excitement in the apartment.  When we finally met I squealed and jumped up and down and hugged and hugged and hugged her.

With a wine glass in her hand she wandered around the apartment exclaiming at how weird it was to actually be seeing it with her own eyes.  She went out on the balcony, her wavy hair blowing in the breeze, and pointed to TN’s balcony, “Is that –?” she left off the rest of the sentence.

“Yep.  Sure is.  And that,” I said pointing below, “Is Downstairs Neighbor,” and as I said it I could see him sitting in his chair smoking his Camel Lights.  I made quick introductions and begged him for a smoke.  He said he’d just come up and give me one.

It was strange to watch as one of my characters met one of my readers.  One has had the benefit of knowing me in my skin and the the other in my head.  Did they know the same woman??

He left and Noodle and I went and got pedicures and sipped on smuggled wine.  We chatted and laughed and she said nice things about my legs and I said nice things about her tits.

By the time we returned to the apartment the rain had stopped and the temperature had dropped a few degrees.  A breeze swept through my rooms and I felt as light-hearted as a girl riding her first pony.  Hunger drove us from the house and while meandering  through Friday afternoon traffic we listened to Super Tramp curling out of the car radio.

At the little house bar we sat outside and drank more wine and nibbled on cheese and smoked salmon.  We talked and laughed and then headed home where we lounged around like college students.  I considered a pillow fight, but painted my nails while she told me tales instead.  Then I watched her put on her makeup and get dressed for dinner while laying on my bed.  It was like we’d done this a thousand times before.

Then, right before the cabbie called to announce his arrival, she made me take off my shirt to take a picture.

My girlfriend, Lindsey, joined us for dinner and drinks and Noodle brilliantly sidestepped the questions of, “So, how do you know Hy?  How long have you known her?” not for the first time that night.  We laughed and told jokes and she lamented at how lame the men in my city were.  “Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said men don’t hit on you!”

“Yep, the men here are fucking jerks,” added Lindsey.

By 10:30 we were ready to go home.  We’d killed another bottle of wine and were eager to have the night really begin.   TN was waiting for us somewhere in the night.

I called him to let him know we were home-bound and he offered to come pick us up, always the gentleman.  He rolled up in his fancy black car and we jumped in.  He drove Lindsey to her car and then the three of us headed home.

He had no idea what a big fucking deal that moment was, that meeting those two women meant more than just meeting two random people in my life.  Noodle knows every intimate detail of everything he and I have ever done, Lindsey knows the emotional aspects of everything.  To him, they were just Noodle and Lindsey.  To them, this was the ubiquitous, omnipresent Neighbor that — for lack of a better word — tortures their friend.

I had the sense that I was suddenly writing my own narrative again, but I shook it off and barreled down the road I travel: fucking fun and frolic.

We spilled into my apartment and TN ran next door to get his Sidecar fixings.  We are going to get drunk, he said and he was right.  The liquor flowed saloon-like for hours.  We played poker.  We laughed so hard our sides hurt and TN flirted shamelessly with me in front of Noodle making a liar out of me.  He’d never been so openly affectionate before.

Memory fades in and out from there, a misty ribbon of images and feelings: Embraced by Noodle, my head clutched to her warm bosom in a loving hug; I was safe.  Fucked and pounded on the floor in the living room;  impaled  and cried in my room, TN over me and in me, Noodle’s lilting voice in my ear.  Came and cried as he rammed into me, his mouth on her breast.  Filled up with his cum.  Laughing on the balcony with Downstairs Neighbor.  Wrestling like puppies with my love while Noodle and DN kissed and canoodled under the stars.  Cuddling on the floor of his balcony.  Noodle and DN in various and sundry compromising positions on my couch.  And then, his arm around me in his bed, sunshine pouring through the blinds.

Noodle remembers it all.  Every word, every nuance, every thrust. She was my champion, my protector, my sweet tiger.  She growled and bristled and cuffed the man-puppy on the ear when he began to stray and she outright thrummed with anger when he hurt me.

After poker, when I invited TN to touch our breasts, to give him that gift, he compared the two.  I laughed, but she hissed.  Her rebuke was swift and firm.  I don’t think he knew why he had dropped to give her 10, but he did it anyway.  And then, with a smile and her drawl, she explained to him that he may never discuss her breasts with me ever.  He nodded assent.

But the lesson was short lived.

Noodle said he suddenly looked like a kid in a candy store when I’d told him she could cum from nipple stimulation.  He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and rubbed expertly over her bra until she had a little orgasm.  He looked at me watching them and quipped, “Now why can’t you do that, Hy?”

Noodle said I looked crushed, that my lip trembled and I struggled to be ok.  I have no memory of this.  And then I left for a minute to do what, she doesn’t know, but in those 120 seconds she squared off with TN.  “You can’t say shit like that.  It’s not right,” she leveled at him.  “A woman is either wired to do that or she isn’t.  And you are asking her to do something that her body physically can’t.  And all she wants to do is please you and that was an asshole thing to say.   Do you understand?”

Understanding washed over his face as he said, “Oh.”

“Don’t say something like that again.  Got it?” and she set her jaw defiantly at him right as I returned.

Without a word she opened her arms to me and I fell to the ground with her as she cradled me, kissed my forehead and stroked my hair.  TN was across the room and she said he came up behind me and spooned me, wanting to be part of my solace.  They joked that they were making a Hy sandwich, her anger at him gone and replaced with the common goal of loving me.

Then, because he knows he can always make me feel better with his body, he slipped his fingers inside of me and began to stroke as I lay nestled in her arms.  I was bashful as heat began to wash over me.  His fingers and palm worked the slow burn inside of me until  I blossomed.  I turned into him as he made me climax in front of Noodle and she stepped back and he devoured me.  Tore off my clothes and his and took me on the living room floor with our audience of one looking on heatedly.

She said he wanted to show me off, show her what I could do at his hands.  She sensed he was proud of me.

He led the both of us back to my room.  The brandy was thick in my brain and I was a bundle of passion and lust and love and trust.  It was all there, visible for anyone to see if he cared to.  Noodle saw it.

She lay on the bed, fully clothed while we rutted, steam rising from our bodies.  She left us for a minute and returned with ice cubes.  She was sure we were on fire as she rubbed the ice on our skin. I incoherently sobbed and she translated.  “She wants you to stop.”

“She wants me to pull out?” he said surprised.

“No. Stay in, but just stay.  Don’t move.”  I cried my agreement, tears streaking my face.

I caught my breath and told him to take Noodle’s nipple in his mouth.  He leaned over and sucked, his face disappearing into the pillow of her breast, his cock pumping wildly inside of me. I released around him, body and soul.  Wildly he rode me, my bed screaming, our bodies wet with passion and exploded into me, shuddering and shaking like a sapling in a storm.

He stilled for a minute and I breathed in his soapy scent and kissed his neck.  He nuzzled mine and started to move again.  Slap, slap, slap.  Noodle got up to pee and when she came out TN and I were still locked together and Downstairs Neighbor filled the doorway with his booming laugh.  “What the fuck is going on!” he cackled.

He retreated to kitchen to make himself a drink and Noodle followed.  TN and I remained in my room locked in our private embrace.  She hugged DN like they were old friends and on the balcony she told him she’d have a coronary if he didn’t kiss her immediately.  He obliged and  a minute later TN and I joined them before tumbling around on the floor.

::

We never did end up getting those motherfucking waffles, but we did all go to breakfast.  DN and Noodle on one side of the booth and TN and I on the other.  Two couples having brunch to the casual observer, four sated individuals to those looking closer.

Noodle joked about how pleased she was that DN wasn’t some fat fuck who scratched his dirty balls all day long — I guess I’ve forgotten to mention that he’s tall, dark and handsome in his own right — and we laughed because DN said he did actually scratch his dirty balls all day long.

Then I ordered TN his apple juice for him when he went to wash his hands and had it delivered in a kiddie cup. I really am motherfucking funny.

Back home TN pulled me into his arms and gave me a warm hug as he announced he was leaving.  He hugged Noodle goodbye and left and DN and I smoked on the balcony as she bustled around packing.

“Well, honey,” she said finally, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, “It’s been real.”

I stood and hugged her again and she kissed DN goodbye and left.  My wonderful, beautiful, wicked smart, southern drawl tiger left the building and my bubble and I felt empty.

I open my entire life and heart to the internet, to my Internet Boyfriend, and thousands of strangers a month, but I am shy and vulnerable in real life.  I don’t demand things that I know I should.  I have a hard time truly opening up. This blog is a living, breathing part of me and Noodle knows it inside and out.  She saw me stumble with TN and her resolve was true: she was never going to hurt me.  She could never touch his cock, she said, because she could see how much I loved him even if he couldn’t.  In fact, she was going to go one further and protect me.

I don’t have many protectors in my life, but she thinks I have one more besides her.

She saw what I see in The Neighbor.  His charm and sweetness, his love for me. “He was so protective of you, Hy, despite the stupid shit that came out of his mouth. It’s incredibly obvious he cares about you.  A lot.  But it’s also clear that he has no idea what to do with you.”

She was also my voice, my friend and my playmate.

She was mellow to my intensity, soft where I was hard.  She was fierce where I was vulnerable and my voice when I was silent.  Her energy left a wake in my house and with my friends, my two funny neighbors who don’t usually meet women like us.  I imagine I must be such a paragon of hedonism to them living their solitary, quiet lives, but I don’t care and I can’t help it and being this way has opened the door for someone like Noodle to walk through.  A woman I’d never have met in real life.

And she talked to DN about me and The Neighbor, something I find strangely appealing.  I feel comforted and cared about.  Two people, not involved, weighing in on the TN-Hy saga.  DN said  “TN doesn’t know who he is.  He’s learning everything he is through Hy.”

“I think you’re right,” she answered.

Now I’m having Noodle withdrawals, and a little TN withdrawals, too.  I felt so loved and filled up with them here.  She made magic out of a broken heart and loved on me like I’ve needed to be loved for so long.  “You get fucked all the time, Hy, but do you ever get loved on?” she asked me.

It was an excellent question and I had to answer, “No.  Not until you.”

Nope, not until you, Noodle.  Thank you for everything this weekend.  Thank you for twirling with me on the dance floor and never turning down the music.  You are beautiful and sensual, your peridot eyes are lit from within, and you smell goddamned delicious.  You are magical.  And I am lucky to know you.