Sunday was a big day for me and my heart. I made love to the man I love for the first time ever. I said goodbye, I said hello, I turned myself over, and most importantly, I felt solid. The ship was no longer pitching; I’d found my sea legs.
I worried about him all day. Was he beating himself up? Was he freaking out? I kept busy, occasionally sharing a secret smile with myself and the twittering birds and blooming flowers, secure in the knowledge that I felt righteous and vindicated: he has as little control around me as I do him.
I texted him a couple of times when I knew he’d be watching The Dark Knight for the second time, puttered around town, did some volunteering, wrote my epically long post infused with every nuance and thought I could muster, and generally had a relaxing day. My calm was genuine, my closure complete.
But I forgot that I live inside the throbbing pages of a dime store smut novel.
Around 7:30, 13 hours after he’d left my apartment that morning his knuckles rapped on my door. My surprise was genuine, my pleasure greater. I was dressed in black shorts and a paper-thin white v-neck and nothing else because all dime store smut novel heroines are always scantily clad for pop-over visitors.
He looked dashing and beamed a big smile at me. “Well, the second time around was actually a little better!”
I poured myself a glass of vino verde and offered him some. “No, thank you.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to tell you I thought the movie was better a second time around.”
“Ok. Wanna come out on the balcony with me so we can talk about last night?”
The pool was packed with crispy brown, pot-bellied men and scantily clad co-eds. Bad music pumped from a poolside boombox and someone was popping a double-helix-looking floating bed like a murderous hacker. It was weird.
We laughed at our neighbors’ antics and chatted. He remarked on how one of my nipples was hard, but not the other. I pinched the lazy one and said, “There, all even.”
“So, how are you doing with everything?” I asked as I sipped my tingly, cool beverage.
He said he was doing great, but he was nervous. Nervous about me. I took offense and pointed out that I’d already told him I knew this doesn’t change anything between us; that I still want a commitment and he doesn’t. “But you’re a woman and women change their minds!”
“I’m not ‘women,’ I’m a woman and I’m the coolest fucking woman you’ve ever met. I’m fine. Really. I already told you this morning that I feel great. You just proved you’re human. Welcome to my world!” I laughed and he rolled his eyes with fake irritation. “Besides, I like this. It feels like it did in the beginning when we both knew we weren’t going to date, but the sex was awesome. You were en fuego last night.”
“What does en fuego mean?”
“Yeah, I kinda was, huh? You like that bit about me choking the life out of you?”
“You know I did. You took it to a whole new level for me. That was one of our best yet.”
“Really?? I think we’ve done better,” the twinkle in his eye gave his teasing away.
And then suddenly there it was, our constant, harping companion: our sexual chemistry. It sat wedged between us and goaded me into looking at his bulging crotch. It was huge. He must have felt it too because he stood up and arranged his erection so the head poked out of his pocket. I began to vibrate.
“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly. “You know I’m Pavlov’s dog to that cock of yours.”
“Are you really?? Care to test it?”
“No, not really.” I looked away. He stepped closer to me and rubbed himself. I sighed painfully. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled himself out. It bobbed heavily an inch from my face. I looked at it, the dusky pink head large and unassuming, its aperture a little slit on the helmet. “Oh my god,” I groaned.
It hung there between us and I looked at him and away again. He put it back in his pants and grabbed my wrist for my pulse. I knew what he’d notice. “Your heart is beating faster, Hy.”
“No shit. Could you resist if I whipped out my tits?”
“Doubtful. But I’m proud of you for resisting.”
I stood up then and wedged myself between him and the banister, my back to the idiots in the pool below. My heavy breasts eye-level to him a dusty shadow beneath the white cotton. He looked at me with his icy blue eyes and I pulled my left breast out. Without hesitation he fell on my nipple. His beautiful face smashed into the swell of white, his stubble a masculine contrast to my softness. He suckled and pulled and I moaned. He opened his eyes and looked at me. I closed my eyes and pulled his head into me, caressed his neck.
He broke contact and I righted my shirt and sat back down. “Come here,” I commanded and pointed to the spot at my feet. He stood and I grabbed his ass and pulled his groin to me and traced my teeth on his bulge. I cupped the tip in his pocket with my mouth and my hot breath enveloped him. “Take it out,” I murmured.
In my hands, bared to me in all its glory, I took him in my mouth, the laughter from the pool our pornographic soundtrack. He fucked my face as I lapped and sucked, lost in the deepest of pleasures.
“Are you wet?” he asked breaking our reverie.
“Then let’s go to bed.”
We walked into my apartment and he peeled off his boots and tossed them by the front door. “Where did that condom on the floor come from?” I asked. I’d found one on the floor that morning, but I hadn’t remembered him grabbing one from my drawer.
“I brought it over.”
“But you said you didn’t come over because you wanted to get laid.”
“I didn’t. I went out with 4 am girl last night. But don’t worry, we’re never going to sleep together. We’re not together.” He pulled his shirt out of his pants and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Oh, really??” This explained the lack of his guilty conscience for cheating on her with me.
“Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t either.”
He closed the distance between us and gently pushed me towards my room with a smile and followed me in. I fell to my knees and worshiped his cock with my mouth. He peeled the rest of his clothes off and mine, and hauled me up to my feet and shoved me back onto my bed sideways. He spread my knees and made his favorite new joke, “You think you’re wet enough?” just before ramming into my juicy hole.
I never took my eyes off of him. I met his lustful gaze with each thrust as he looked down on me. We kissed passionately again and again and he’d break away to look at me some more. Our bodies ground hard against each other, “Fuck, your pussy is perfect,” he groaned and kissed me again.
He pumped into me and grunts and pants expelled from my lungs uncontrollably. I squeezed his buttocks and spanked his flanks. Sweat pricked between us as I made love to him again with every muscle and fiber. I gripped the sheets and strained against them to pound back against him.
He leaned back on his haunches and handed me my Hitachi wand. I arched my back up to grind down on him as far as I could. “Jesus Christ, that’s hot,” he said gazing down on me. With one hand gripping my sheets for purchase, my hips locked up high on his waist and my torso arched up off the bed I put the wand to my clit.
I watched him watching me, his gaze heavy and heated. I was doing that to him. Me. How much had I missed all these months by hiding behind closed eyes??
My orgasm was swirling up through my limbs and creeping down from the crown of my head. He was flexing his cock inside of me and swiveling his hips stretching my hole as I remained arched up, locked to him like a mating bug. I exploded around him and shook and came harder than ever before, my release from hope feeding into my body’s release, raw and human.
He leaned over me and began to move again, kissed me hard and deep. Then he pulled out and dragged me to the edge of the bed and stood up, his cock the perfect height to my cunt. He handed me the vibrator again.
“I don’t think I can do this. I’m already lost,” I whispered.
“You can and you will,” he countered.
He moved inside of me with his hands on my knees splaying me apart. I was completely exposed to him in the bright daylight. My climb to climax was bracketed in my mind by his paws on my knees holding me open. He owned me. The bomb went off a minute or two later and he pumped hard as I did. He thrust one last time and kissed me on my head as I slithered to my feet and stood up.
I was a boneless mass.
I flung myself down on my bed and he lay down next to me. I didn’t know my name or the day of the week. I shook and sobbed dry little cries of pleasure as he chuckled at me and began to gather his things. “TN, what the fuck?” I said into my mattress.
“Hy, c’mere.” He hauled me to my feet and stood me in front of my floor length mirror. My body was rosy and my breasts hung heavy and full. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes glazed, my hair a ridiculous rat’s nest. “That’s one fucked woman right there.” I groaned for the effort of standing up and fell back on the bed.
“Come on, Hy, let’s go sit on the balcony.” He dragged me up again and I gingerly put on some clothes. My arms weighed 100lbs and I couldn’t think. I poured myself another glass of vine verde and my hand trembled as I poured. He watched my efforts and I began to cry.
“Fuck!” I hiccuped. I was completely overwhelmed with hormones and climax and love.
He laughed and took my hand and led me outside. I lit a cigarette and tried to gather my wits as he looked smug and sadistic. He was wholly proud of himself. I don’t blame him, really. I’d be proud if I reduced someone to a fucking puddle of nonsense.
“This really feels like square one again,” I remarked.
“Yeah, it does. I really like it.”
Then he stood to leave and I walked him to the door. He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly and kissed me deeply.
I recovered fully about 30 minutes later, still happy, still sound.
He came over last night, too. He texted at a little past 11:30 and wanted to know if I was bored. I said no, but he could come over anyway and give me a hand with something. I crawled out of bed and met him at the door. He was in just shorts. He brushed against my breasts and I reminded him Peyton was home. He backed away quickly.
“It’s ok. Peyton’s asleep. Don’t worry. Here, you can help me make my bed.” I bent over to pull out clean linens from the dryer and he grabbed my hips and pulled me against him. I laughed and went to my room. We made my bed while chatting and then he crawled in.
“So what are you doing here?” I asked again.
“I was thinking I wanted a blowjob, but now I don’t. I just want to talk and hang out.”
“Well, isn’t that nice?” I said sarcastically, but with a laugh. The truth was I wasn’t feeling well and I was exhausted. I had no intention of fucking him or sucking him.
We cuddled and talked for an hour. He asked me how my day was and he told me about his. I told him he was doing a great job with texting me back.
“Yeah, a whole 4 days,” he said with chagrin and an eye roll.
“Well, it’s better than you’ve ever done before and I appreciate it. It’s like a real fucking friend finally!”
“I don’t know why I do that sometimes. I’m sorry. I just get caught up in my work sometimes.”
“Well, I still appreciate your efforts.”
At 1 am we were both beginning to doze. I’d run my fingers through his chest hair, and occasionally fondled him while he massaged my breasts or ran his fingers along my arm. I felt languid and at peace.
“Well, I better go.”
I walked him to the door and he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me. I pulled him close and closed my eyes reveling in his lips and tongue on mine. He gave me a squeeze then set me apart.
“Goodnight. Have sweet dreams,” I said.
And there you have it. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. All him. All of it.
I’ll say it again: I don’t care what happens to us anymore, I really don’t. But this man loves me, is in love with me. No one will convince me otherwise. He may never admit it to himself, he may never commit to me, he may never take this where I know it could go, or where I deserve, but that’s his problem at this point. His loss. I don’t feel like I’m losing anything. I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of this like I should have from the start.
I’ve thought a lot about what it is I’m doing, how I’d feel if 4 am girl re-entered the picture, how I’d feel if he started dating someone else and I can sense nothing but a gentle calm in me. My heart jerks a little at the thought of being in that place again, and then it settles back down and I am once again in control of my destiny.
Can I do this? I don’t know, but I guess I’ll be finding out. We are friends. Friends who love each other and have amazing sex and who love to hang out with each other. That isn’t so bad, is it? I’ll continue to protect Peyton from him as necessary, but Peyton digs TN and TN really digs Peyton. Particularly since I called him on all his bullshit. I’m failing to see clearly. I know.
A dear friend of mine recently said, “Maybe you guys just started too soon…”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s all a mistake. Maybe it just is.