Thursday, October 07, 2004

Welcome to the Cruel World, Continued

As much as I despise Celine Dion, I have always enjoyed the sentiment behind that song: “I drove all night to get to you.” That was probably my real reason for wanting to drive so far just to get laid; I just wanted to act out the song.

It was a beautiful night, with a huge harvest moon in the sky. I love driving late at night, looking at people in other cars and wondering where they’re going at such a strange time. The closer I drove to him, the more excited and nervous I became. It had been almost 8 months since I had seen him last. I wondered whether he had changed. What new tricks had he learned in our time apart?

He was my first love and the first person I ever slept with, roughly a year and a half ago. We broke up due to forces beyond our control, and have retained a certain…fondness for each other. Sex with him is always passionate, sometimes vicious, but always infused with a tenderness that would break my heart if I let it. No matter how many other guys I date and sleep with, I always come back to him.

By the time I had parked my car in front of his house, my pussy was already damp in anticipation. I knocked on the side door like he told me to, and I saw him at the bottom of the basement stairs, on his way up. He was as sexy and beautiful as ever.

He opened the door and grinned at me. “I can’t believe you actually came,” he breathed. I couldn’t, either, to be honest. It seemed slightly surreal to be standing in his door in the middle of the night, after so much time had passed. He drew me in and kissed me, his mouth on mine sweet and insistent and very familiar.

The sex was, sad to say, pretty boring, at least as far as a play-by-play goes. The usual. But the little details about him, those little things I had loved, resurfaced with a vengeance, making me ache for him. The feel of his soft blond hair under my hands and the smell of his scalp, which somehow reminds me of pine needles…the way his mouth tastes after he goes down on me…the unbelievable hardness of the muscles in his arms as he strains above me. He has the most gorgeous ass I have ever seen, hairless and incredibly muscular.

We finally slept, for a few hours, his arm clamped around me like a vice. I remembered the first time I had seen that forearm. Just the sight of it, the pale golden skin, the blond hairs, and I was in complete lust. How far we had come from that night.

Early in the morning, I woke to see him still sleeping. I admired his strong features, relaxed now and very peaceful. I swear, he has the face (and body) of a Greek statue. Marble, warmed and brought to life. I reached over and stroked his cock, until he groaned, rolled over and gathered me in his arms. He took me, and I clung to him, with my fingertips I held him fast. His body was a spar, I held it even as I felt him slip away, for another 8 months, maybe forever.

I left him with a kiss, and no promise of a next time.

I had fooled myself into thinking I had driven three hours for a booty call. I realized I had come looking for validation, for tenderness, for love. No matter what front I may put on it, even to myself, being dumped is hard. Even being dumped by a boring, insensitive asshole is painful. But as I walked back to my car across his damp lawn, the taste of him still on my lips, I knew I was whole again.


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