I’m all kinds of anxious today. The Neighbor came over last night and we played Scrabble and chatted. I was a mess: nervous, weird, odd. I tried to explain to him about my work week — which involves FEELINGS — and it made me more a mess. We laughed about it, I admitted I was feeling strange and we moved on.
Then, he undid his pants and hefted out his cock to distract me from my turn and we spent the next hour or so fucking each others’ brains out and drenching my bed with my juices.
I like this guy so fucking much.
Way more than is good for me. He told me he’s hanging out with this girl friend of his tonight – a chick he doesn’t really like, but really wants to fuck. He said he’d consider dating her if she admitted she was shallow and all wrong about the kind of guy she wants to end up with (older, rich, Republican, religious, and conservative). I take comfort in knowing that’ll never happen. But still.
I’m pretty certain he has no clue how I feel about him. He makes jokes about Jason and my Frankenstein boyfriend not knowing that he makes up the bulk of that person. He’s the guy I want to spend time with, he’s the guy whose cock I transfix on when masturbating, he’s the guy who knows and is liked by all my friends, he’s the guy who knows my kid, he’s the guy who I am totally myself with and rarely is even out of pajamas around.
The others are peripheral beings. Jason is rich with compliments and affection, Phillip cuddles me and fucks me till morning. Add them all up and it’s what I want in a partner — oh holy shit, did I just say PARTNER?
But all TN and I seem to do is remind each other how wrong we are for one another. He’s not older or a parent; I’m not younger and childless. Other than that, I got nothing to reject him from my prospects list. Nothing.
And I have been talking out loud to myself all morning saying things like, “TN, here’s the thing, you’ve gotten into my icy heart and I don’t think I can keep doing this knowing that one day soon you’ll stop by to tell me you’ve found a hot girl to date for real.”
“TN, you’ve weaseled your way into my heart and I don’t know what to do…”
“TN, I don’t think I can keep having sex with you because I’m beginning to have real feelings for you…”
That last one makes me want to cry. I have to decide to take what I can get (what I have now) or call it off.
I wish what I have now was enough, but it’s not. I want him to stay the night, I want to go running with him, I want him to come with me to events of my friends, I want him to check on me, I want him to think of me and tell me so.
I so didn’t want this.
And, of course, the sex was off the fucking charts last night. He cupped his hand deep inside of me and made me fill it with ejaculate. I slid my hands down his muscled torso and panted and cried and told him that my panties would be in a wad if he ended up disappearing with his date tonight for the weekend. He took notice when I said that.
He also asked me how many times I’d want to have sex with someone if I loved him and he had a huge cock if we were to spend, “say, 4 or 5 days a week together.” I told him I’d never been in love with anyone I saw that much with a giant cock, but if I were, maybe 3-4 of those days.
“Not every night? Multiple times a night?? I thought for sure you would. I think you love sex way more than I do.”
“No,” I countered, “not unless we felt like it. I got shit to do, you know; a life.” He hmphed.
I vowed a long time ago to not try to decode a man’s behavior towards me, but here I am doing it. This is what no communication, and an utter refusal on my part to do so will get you: an overwhelming feeling of being clusterfucked.