Last night was what I needed though I didn’t want it. Not at first.
All I wanted was your company on the cold balcony while I dragged on my sad little cigarette and drank out of my fishbowl wine glass. My heart hurt and I was bereft that my ex is making poor decisions, fast decisions, but you sat with me and listened.
And when I cried because I was a raw nerve you held my hand and told me you were sorry and you stuck up for me like the Polish bulldog you are, your Irish heart pure and bold.
I was mush, but you turned me into putty.
You led me to my bed and you lay with me, stroked me and giggled with me. I felt heavy and then I felt light. Your flaccid cock came alive in my hand, large and stiff, and when you loomed over me in the candlelight I was skeptical that I was even there with you, it was another woman, someone else.
But then you punctured me, huge and taut, and began to move.
I’ve never felt you quite like that before and my body only just accommodated you. And then it became slippery, but I was still only barely letting you fit. Every thrust, every move I felt our skin touch and my heart began to beat with our movements. I was stretched apart by you.
You kissed me then and I kissed you back. I arched my back and gripped the bars of my bed for purchase, for mercy. You gave me none and bore into me and glared into my weeping face, sad and lovely, at home and so alone. But you were there. Big.
I clung to you, your wildly pumping buttocks, and you dumped yourself into me. I was sobbing at this point, my heart broken into so many pieces then shattered into infinitely more by you, your love, your resistance, your everything.
You kept at me, ignoring my sobs, turned on by them, I suspect. I felt exposed and vulnerable, unworthy and like a fraud. Happy. I was out of control.
“I’m going to cum again,” you said through gritted teeth, but I couldn’t take another stroke. I had died so many times. La petite mort and all that.
But you started up inside me again and I melted and wheezed my love into your ear, silently and coded. Your powerful thighs flexed between my soft and gripping ones and I rolled my eyes into the back of my head to see my heart slip out behind.
Mercy came then when you chose to roll off of me. It wasn’t going to happen for you that way. I squirmed and writhed and tears streamed down my face as I gulped in ugly breaths of air and turned my cheek to you and watched your hand become an arc on your hard cock.
Fap fap fap fap fap fap fap, said your hand.
Unnnnhhhh, ahhhhhhh, ooooooh, said your mouth.
And then you jerked and flexed and creamy bright globs spurted out on your furry abdomen. I stared slack-jawed and drooling for a moment, dipped my head and licked the tip of your cock as if it were fairy dust. It was my way of punctuating your beautiful, dirty solo act. Yum, yum.
The magic your body bears on mine is unequivocal in my universe. I’ve never known such beauty before with another human. It is a symphony of luck and love.
You are a balm on my aching heart and my racing mind. You heal me in places no one else can possibly reach because your cock happens to be a magic fucking wand and not everyone runs around with one of those between their legs. Who knew that when I decided to shove my hand down your pants in a drunken pass almost exactly 2 years ago?
But of course you’re so much more than just the sex we share. You are terrifyingly smart and weird and loyal; you don’t like any of the foods I love so much, but yet we still manage to make eating a sinful delight between us; you don’t like anyone, but you like me… a lot; you demand alone time, but give me none preferring to a cuddle to solitude every time; you are thirsty for wisdom and I can see your impatience with “catching up” to me, yet you have your own special 29 year old knowledge I could never have; you like to fuck with your socks on and have an amazing non-relationship with clothing in general; you are generous and kind, witty and utterly likeable.
How lucky are we that we both landed in this apartment complex, in this city, in this state, and all next door to one another??
I don’t know what the future holds for us when I move out in March, but what I do know is that I will always have memories like that of last night to keep me warm when we are apart.
All this to say: I’m hoping I’ll muster the courage to tell you I love you this weekend. We both deserve to hear it, though, I am petrified.
And please, god, don’t let it be a mistake to finally lift the veil of denial from us. Please…
We’ll see what Monday brings.