As my heart and I move further away from The Neighbor I feel the loss of the most special thing we shared: our chemistry.
Together, in the middle of a dark and swirling relationship the two of us shone bright. We fucking sparkled like goddamned diamonds. Noodle saw it first hand, as did all my real life friends even if not that up close and personal.
I re-read old posts of our times together and I think, That was me? That was us? We did that?? It almost doesn’t seem real.
I was so madly in love with the feelings I had when I was with him it’s hard to sort out if it was the man I loved or how he made me feel. It’s irrelevant now, seeing as how we’ve been over for more than a year, but despite the countless hot as fuck encounters I’ve had since our breakup, none have connected to me on the cellular level like his energy did with me. And I miss it like a motherfucking limb.
Missing it means I’m reminded of him when I come close to it. Missing it means I’m reminded of him when it’s a far cry from what I remember. The feelings I had with him are an ever-present spectre in my life and I am confused and sad. It’s so hard to detangle the feelings from the man, from our stupid, sad “relationship” I constructed out of nothing but tenuous hope and sheer will power.
Bones came over for dinner last night. I made us lobster risotto with a homemade lobster stock and an arugula salad tossed with olive oil, salt and toasted almond slivers. We flirted in the kitchen and he was more open. He grows funnier each time we see each other. It was easy and sexy and he joked about the workout he’d give me later since I’d missed my morning class.
His willingness to come over and spend time with me is so different from most men, certainly from TN, that it pulls up the hurt I felt for years to spend time with the man I loved. If that isn’t irony, I don’t know what is. TN is long gone from my life and a happy, pleasant, eager man is right in front of me and who can I not help but think of?? It’s embarrassing, frankly.
On my couch, brownies eaten with guilty smiles, I leaned in for a kiss. He is by far one of the best kissers I’ve ever encountered in my life and I’ve never looked forward to a makeout session with anyone like I do with this short, muscled man with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Before long I was on his lap naked, save but for my black lace panties, and breasts shoved into his smiling face. I unbuckled his pants and pulled his big cock out and pulled the crotch of my panties to the side and pushed him in and rode him like a mustang and goddamn it if the fucking couch didn’t make as much obnoxious noise as my bed.
We laughed and I panted and squirmed around the shaft in my middle. He hit my thighs gingerly and I told him to hit me harder. He did and I smiled, but it wasn’t hard enough, not like what he used to do.
I raised up off of him and his wet cock flopped on his belly. “C’mon,” I said and pulled him up behind me and led him to my room and bent over the bed, feet wide.
He buried himself in me from behind as I gripped the bedding for purchase and locked my knees against the bed frame. Stars burst up through my limbs and rolled over my shoulders and through my skull. I lifted my feet off the ground and suspended myself on the edge of the frame, the perfect height to his as he slammed into me. He wedged his thumb into my asshole, his moans of pleasure mixed with the squeaks of the bed and my cries.
I came again and little sobs tried to escape. I held them back, the similarity to what I felt with him too much to bear in the moment.
I begged him to cum but he pummeled me instead. I climbed up on the bed and he followed me. Two bumping, humping pale figures serenaded by a rudely moaning bed.
I called him baby, moaned about his big cock, my orgasms, general nonsense. My words incoherent at best, muffled groans at worst. He pulled out and tipped me over and lay beside me. I panted and closed my eyes. My hands tingled like the were pressed on the tips of needles.
I pulled my Hitachi out from under my pillow and swung my legs over his. “Come here,” I instructed and pulled him towards me, his cock bobbed in agreement. His motions were confused. He didn’t know what I wanted. This was a favorite thing for me to do with TN and I hadn’t done it with anyone since him.
We reconnected and he pushed in deeply, thrust a few times for good measure. I clicked the wand on and pressed it bare against my skin. He began to move and he lit me up from within as the wand drilled down from without. I climbed and burst into flames in under a minute and his hips ground into me, so different from him whom I made hold still.
Sobs bubbled up and two tears, one from each eye, squeezed out and pooled in the shells of my ears. I came dangerously close to the feelings I had come to seek with him every time we were together.
I threw the toy away and he swung my leg around him to nestle between my thighs. His face was alight with a smile and I closed my eyes so as not to connect. I never look into a lover’s eyes. Just, never. Even with him, I’d flutter my lashes and only peek at his intense, icy gaze. It was no different with Bones’ dark blue stare, it was like peeking at the sun; I simply can’t bare it.
His smile was the same, though. That grin of total power when I began to toss my head from side to side as his gigantic cock filled me up and choked me from the inside of my belly. He slowed his tempo when I begged him to speed up, just like TN would, and he watched with pleasure as I began to twitch and choke on sobs that refused to be kept at bay.
Legs over his shoulders, folded up under him, wrapped around him. He murdered my pussy until I was a rag doll and tapped his shoulder for respite. He stopped and rolled off.
“Are you going to cum?” I panted.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Will you jerk off on me?”
“I will certainly try.”
Again, so much like him.
He got up and found some lube and stood over me beside the bed. I put the toy on me again and came quickly watching his hand make a dark blur of his groin. Instead of finishing on me he climbed back on top of me and fucked me until we were exhausted. Still no orgasm for him.
Unfazed — or deterred — I crawled between his legs and sucked and slobbered on him until I heard his voice tremble and his breathing jerk, his thighs tense. He cried out as I gobbled down his cum and wiped my lips on my arm. TN couldn’t do this for me for an entire year.
I climbed up and lowered down into his arms. We kissed and smiled and fell asleep shortly after, comfortable in each other’s presence. I didn’t have to say goodbye wrapped in a robe or see him slip out into the balmy night. I got to fall asleep to the sounds of his breathing and feel his occasional twitch into slumber.
When the storm the weather men had predicted hit 3 hours later we awoke and moved closer to one another then fell back asleep. When the dog cried to be let back in he got up and opened the door for him. When we overslept we laughed and put pillows over our heads and slept for yet another hour together.
When the growling in my stomach forced me from bed I finally put on my robe and got up to make myself some coffee. “Would you like some?” I asked not at all expecting him to say yes; he never did.
“Sure. I’d love some.”
Then later, an almost sheepish request for me to make him an egg sandwich before he left for work.
We sat at my kitchen island drinking black coffee and sharing old pictures of ourselves from high school. I didn’t particularly like that he was scrolling through his phone instead of talking to me, but I suppose it’s just more information to have about him. He likes to check The Chive while he eats breakfast, apparently. Maybe all men do this? I have no frame of reference.
It was a little past 9 when he gathered up his things and kissed me goodbye. My heart felt still, neutral. Neither full, nor empty, just waiting. As he passed around the corner into the morning light I thought about the clench in my chest every time The Neighbor would leave, the pull to wish him back into my arms for yet another minute, another hour, another night. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way about another man again. I don’t know if I’m capable anymore, frankly. Or maybe I’ll just never meet another man whose chemistry is such a match to mine.
Either way, the stillness makes me believe I am either healed or broken, both of which I’m ok with. What continues to be a struggle is that feeling of loss, either of what we had or what I wanted to have. It’s like the fading of a scar: eventually, I’ll have to squint to see it, but for now, it’s still visible — he’s still on my mind — and I don’t know how to make that stop except to keep moving forward without him. Just keep on moving. Without him.