I caved.

I had a horrible dream about Peter last night. I dreamt that he came over to my house and asked if he could bring some friends. Of course I said, Yes.

I had other friends already over by the time they showed up: Peter, a blonde woman in her 30’s and a dude. I flittered between rooms hosting the best I could when it suddenly occurred to me that Peter hadn’t really said hello to me since arriving.

I walked back to the room they were in, sprawled on a big couch together. I scanned the scene: the dude was to my right, siting with a beer in his hand. Peter was to the far left, with the woman in the middle. His hand was just barely under her tee-shirt at her waist. Casual and intimate.

“What the fuck are you doing here??” I hissed instantly and without regard for decorum.

He stammered.

“Get the fuck out of my house. Now.”  The three of them blinked at me.  “NOW!”  I shouted.

“I don’t have time for this fucking shit!  Get. The. Fuck. OUT!!!

The two strangers scurried out, but Peter ran to me and flung himself at me bawling.  “Hy, Hy, Hy!” he cried.  “You’re just too good to me!  I’ve wanted out for so long, but you’ve kept on being so amazing and I couldn’t let you go!”

Snot and tears ran down his face as it reddened against my bosom, his arms wrapped around me.

I stood still and hard looking down at him hating myself for making everything so easy, yet so hard for poor old Peter.

I pushed him away and told him to get the fuck out again.  Then – as dreams do – I was lost in the dark alley ways of some city in Italy.

When I woke, the dream lingered like a hangover and pestered me for hours.  I checked in on Instagram and saw that he’d posted again.  I liked it like I had all his posts the past week.  Then I decided to fuck it and DM him.

He responded almost immediately.

I told him that I’d dreamt he was very sad and I hoped that wasn’t true.  He replied that he was stressed, but otherwise ok.

I caved.

“I need some TLC and some of your dick,” I said.

“I’ll give it to you as soon as I can.”

I fucking fucking caved.

But Dream Hy knows what’s up.  Peter is also a liar and duplicitous and there’s a part of me that doesn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.  In the mean time, he’s the only person I know that wants to be nice to me when it fits into his schedule and I need someone to be nice to me.

I guess that’s the plan for now.

Fuck.

 

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