The Neighbor left this morning for a trip home. He returns late Monday night and then he will trek back to the airport with me in tow to send me off for a week-long sting in San Francisco. We will have an embargo of contact for 12 days, our longest ever.
When things were shit and my heart was stringy, bloody ribbons wafting in the breeze a few months ago I tried to stay away — he tried to stay away — and we couldn’t do it. Sharing a wall has its benefits in fair weather and is a goddamned curse during the storm. But here we are: clear skies for miles and days, birds lazily drift on breezes, and the chill air colors my cheeks and adds a spring in my step and we are to be separated.
I am looking forward to it, to life sans TN, because one day this will be all too real. He will live across town, not just across the sheet rock. And my life will alter. Touching him will take effort, as will our friendship.
He is distressed about this return home. He hates it there and has vowed this will be his last ever. Last week when he got the dates mixed up I’d laid next to him while he poured out his heart and worries. I stroked his arms and chest and propped him up with kind words. This week, my approach was more pragmatic.
And then I obliged with the photographic evidence all day and the next. Tits, ass, me cumming, me in the shower, you name it and I sent it so long as I could manage the phone with one hand and whatever else with the other.
Last night he stopped by to thank Peyton for the candy that was left on his doormat. “So are you coming back by later tonight?” I asked.
“To do what?” he asked looking at me unzip my boots.
I raised my eyes to him and wiggled my eyebrows just so.
“Oh!” he said with understanding. “Ok, I’ll definitely come back to say ‘goodbye’.”
He left and I read Peyton 47 million Sandra Boynton books and drifted off to a kind of sleep I can only refer to has Happy-Tired-Mommy Sleep. I can’t fall asleep like that in my own bed, but laying next to my baby, having given and received kisses and words of love, I let go of the balloon of stress that is my life and become weightless in my free fall into unconsciousness. It is bliss on a goddamned stick.
I startled awake and realized a loud bang lingered in the room. I staggered to the front door, my face flushed with sleep and my hair rumpled, opened the door and The Neighbor walked in followed by a warmly cool breeze.
I laid down on the couch and he followed. He showed me a cut on his finger, we talked about his trip, I showed him my see-through shirt, he sucked on my nipples, we discussed our friends. I felt like saying a thousand different things, but I held my tongue. I am the jedi, no longer the padawan. I got this.
“I’m gonna go home and get cleaned up,” he said rising.
“Ok. I’m gonna leave the door unlocked for you then and just go to back to bed. I’ll see you soon.”
“Sounds good,” he said easily.
I remember a time when an exchange like this was a herculean effort on my part. Subtly manipulative I would suggest he come over, I would flaunt my sensuality easily and seemingly without guile all the while lining the riverbed with sandbags to make. it. go. my. way. Last night, I was a leaf on the water.
I lit candles in my room and stripped down to my panties. I would have preferred nudity, but my period had whimpered at me all week. I fell asleep just above unconsciousness and heard him creep in an hour later. I held my breath as he slowly peeled back the covers and put his hand on me. I stirred and rolled on my back.
“You are too light of a sleeper. I never get to surprise you,” he said with a pout.
“I can close my eyes and you can’t start over if you want.”
“No,” he said sliding his shorts off his hips to pool at his feet. He climbed into bed with me and threw the covers back, “It’s too late for that.” He dove down on to my breast and pulled me into him not without pain. I pressed my other breast against his head, bookending his face in my pillows.
I moaned and ran my fingers along his jaw and through his silky hair. He came up for air, “And what the fuck are these doing on?” he demanded as he tugged on my panties. Before I could answer he pulled them down my legs and moved between my knees as he spread them forcefully. He came back down on me and crushed my mouth with his, his cock stickily sliding over my cropped hair and dampened crotch.
He sat up then and positioned the helmet of his cock at my entrance and slowly entered. He bent at the waist and braced his arms on either side of me, his face inches from me. “You love this part, don’t you? It’s your favorite.”
“Mmmhmm,” was my only response.
He pushed in all the way and I could feel it in the back of my head, in my throat. He stroked me a few times. I found a voice. “Do you like this?” I squeaked.
“Fuck, yes. You feel so amazing. I love it, too. I especially love your legs wrapped around me.” I immediately hitched my ankles together and lifted my hips to him. He sunk into me and pounded me into the mattress like an errant spring coil.
I clenched on him and he grunted, almost lost control, but regained it. The pleasure felt like a fruity bloom, round and slippery inside of me. I shook my head and closed my eyes in a grimace. Begged him to stop and to keep going. Finally, I cried uncle.
He rolled off of me and fondled a breast. “Fuck, I love it when you cry uncle. Fucking love it.” I lay there like an idiot. Wordless and buzzing like a carcass.
I caught my breath and reminded him that I wanted welts. “Then get on your knees — no, your stomach.”
I pulled myself up and flipped over and tucked my legs between his knees. He slid into me like a hot tongue and started to pump. He rode me like I was a prized mare, wailed on my flanks like the hounds of hell were after us, pinned my arms at the base of my back and clawed at my back, pulled my hair and shoved my face into the purple sheets.
I sobbed and bucked and laughed and lost myself entirely. Again and again his hand rained down heavily on me. I bloomed and exploded and melted under each blow. Finally, he was exhausted and released me. I rolled onto my back, my hair streaked across my face like the tails of comets.
“You look amazing right now,” he said leaning over me gently brushing my hair off my face. “No wait. Take a picture,” he said to himself, but handed me the camera. I clicked and saw a rosy-faced woman with mascara under her eyes and an undeniable sexual glow.
We laid and talked some more. I ran my fingers through his chest hair and wrapped my heart around his aching one in a warm and friendly hug. “I want to cum,” I announced when there was a lull.
I came with my vibrator on my clit and my nipple in his mouth a minute later. Hard and fast. Safe. I felt so safe with him.
He sadly admitted he had to go pack, but before he left he returned to me for a hug and a lingering, wet kiss. “You can do it,” I reassured him when he stalled at my bedroom door, his hand on the handle. He took loud, deep breaths, psyching himself up to leave my cocoon of support and friendship and head to the jaws of his awaiting family. “I promise,” I added.
“Ok. Goodnight, Hy. I’ll lock the door.” And with that, he was gone.
Today, I feel light as a goddamned feather. Or a leaf on a river. What-the-fuck-ever.