On the curb outside Departures I bent a little to hug him. His arms opened like wings and wrapped tightly around me; we held each other fast.
“I’m going to miss you, Ben,” I said.
“I’m going to miss you too, Hy.”
I leaned in for a kiss and and breathed him in. This might be the last time I’d ever taste him. I thanked him again for everything he’d done for me and walked away.
I had barely gone through the automatic doors when the tears started.
I cried in the line to get my ticket, as I ate my toast and texted with him, as I searched for my gate. I cried as I pressed the keys on my laptop and reached deep inside of me for words that would do him justice.
To know that this human being exists fills me with hope, with faith in humanity. I knew he was different — which is why I accepted his offer of hospitality though he was a stranger — but I had no idea how much he’d touch me, move me.
Tears rolled down my cheeks and my mouth quivered as I texted:
I can’t believe how sad I am to leave. You are such an incredible person and man and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have met you. Hi, Ben, I’m Blanche Devareaux. It was lovely to meet you.
An hour later he texted back and I cried yet more as I told him how grateful I was, how special he was, how I truly hoped we could see each other again one day. “You are so beautiful,” he replied when I told him of my tears. “Just everything. You’re amazing.”
The thing about this young man is he glows and quivers with light. He’s suffered heartbreaking loss and health issues as a child; is fiercely loyal to friends and family; has chased his dreams and caught them. His life is nearly exactly as he wants it. Relatively speaking, he’s a very happy young man and it was like nibbling ambrosia to be with him.
As we drove in to the airport my last morning a 747 came in for a landing, low and massive. “Look! Look at that beautiful girl!” he exclaimed. “That’s my baby! That’s exactly what I fly!” Sheer joy bubbled in his voice.
From the moment we met we talked, laughed and teased. On train rides, through emptied bottles of wine, on car rides, while naked, in London. We never stopped. I wanted to share everything I could possibly share, to show him who I really was. I wanted him to know me.
I listened avidly as he shared tales of adolescent debauchery and of his recent, heart wrenching loss and I asked endless questions about flying. I might never fear a plane ride again now thanks to him.
The first night on his couch I sat with my feet on his lap and wondered about later, about how we would fit together.
He was built like a jockey, a beautiful little bird with dark grey eyes with inner rings of gold and blue. “Greyzel,” I said to him, though more accurately they looked like some precious stone polished and mesmerizing.
Exhausted from my magical weekend in Bristol — and particularly my day of travel — I ground down to a stop. “I’ve got to sleep, Ben,” I said apologetically.
In his bed, with his slender arms wrapped around me and his lithe body pressed against my backside, I felt safe. Warm, welcome, unbelievably happy, a woman with her face turned up to the sunrise.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he said and squeezed me and nuzzled closer.
“I know. Me either.”
His hand stroked my hip and he nibbled my neck. My body flared awake.
We kissed and tangled and pulled our clothes off. I gripped the hot meat jutting at me and he groaned. He moved to mount me, but I stopped him.
We laughed when I dug my EroticonLive condoms out of my bag and we had to choose between glow-in-the-dark, dots-and-lines, and some other one which seemed normal.
We ripped open the third package and laughed again. It was black.
And we laughed yet again that once on we could only get it down half way before it was too tight and too short.
Dots and lines it was.
We moved like old friends reunited and I held him close as he first pushed in. Long, deep, eternal.
His warm touch thrilled me and I kissed him as if this were our last night on earth.
He didn’t cum that night, but he would the next morning when I took him in my mouth.
“How far down can you go?” He whispered, my mouth and hand full of his cock.
To answer I dove down and got to within an inch of his pubis, but it took some effort. He was too big.
“Holy fuck,” he said.
I continued my work and slurped and sucked; the hair caught in my hands began to knot. I kept going.
He tensed then and shoved my face down and reared up into the back of my throat with a cry. I choked and swallowed then gently released him.
He shivered as I climbed up to lay beside him. We dozed intertwined like a braid for hours.
That night on the train home — after a day spent at the Tate, crossing three London bridges in my pursuit to buy Union Jack souvenirs, a kiss on the Tower Bridge near where the crows used to pick flesh from the bones of the punished, and eating fish and chips at The Hung, Drawn, & Quartered pub — I rubbed the hot bulge in his pants, openly daring anyone to bother to look. No one did.
It grew handsomely large and I told him again how much I was enjoying my time with him. In total it would be only 36 hours.
Back on his couch I opened the little box of condoms we’d bought on the way home and rode him, my black-haired steed, naked and golden.
I bounced and flounced and poured my breasts into his hungry, eager mouth. He came with a beautifully noisy cry.
Upstairs I sucked on him again and pressed his hips down into the mattress with my arm and — knowing how much he loved to bury himself into my face — impaled myself on him.
He dragged me up and kissed me. I asked him why he’d made me stop.
“I don’t want it to ever end.”
I crawled back down and slowly brought him back to me. His milk tasted of sunshine.
I flopped down next to him and listened as his breathing steadied.
“I want you to cum too, Hy.”
I showed him how to hook in and slam me to climax. My ejaculate sprayed on the both of us as he slapped my mound. I squirmed away panting.
“I’m going to ruin your bed! You have to stop.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
He went at me again and watched my face intently. I cried out and released into his palm. Once, twice, three times. My orgasms an English daisy chain of pleasure.
Spent, I begged him to stop and pulled him on top of me and held him there memorizing how he felt. How this felt. I never wanted to forget.
We fell asleep on a towel. I dreaded leaving the next day.
This young man, 16-and-a-half years younger than me, unlocked something in my dark heart. I want this, this thing I felt with him during our short time together: utter and complete acceptance, passion and appreciation, friendship.
I want a man like him who wants his own independence and respects mine but still can’t wait to see me because it’s not an everyday experience, because I’m fucking special. I never want to feel taken for granted ever again, not after this. It’s like I’ve seen how the other half live. I’ve been eating dry cereal when I could have been eating filet.
I want a man who is proud of my writing and life as Hy, but who also loves and appreciates me. Ben gave me a glimpse of the future I want.
The morning dawned too soon and I curled into him and pulled his arm around me. “I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
I ripped off another condom and he finished in me doggy style as we cried out our orgasms together. Tears pricked the backs of my lids. This might very be the last time I’d ever be here.
We’d talked the night before about seeing each other again. His status as a pilot means that he could come see me almost any time for any length of time. Neither of us can imagine not continuing our friendship, but it’s not realistic to think it will be like this always. I recognize the magic of the moment and love it even more for that, but of course want more of it.
In the car on the way to the airport I wanted to tell him with my own voice who I really was, but I never got the chance as we animatedly shared yet more of our lives with one another. Plus, I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I might not have stopped.
Strapped in and headed home I cried again and choked back sobs as I watched London recede into the distance. A little bit of my heart forever there, happy and safe with Ben, my beautiful little grey-eyed bird.
I would cry the entire flight home.