I refused to think that anything happened today did happen. So as I laid in bed watched the ceiling, I drifted into a five minute cat nap.
I had not seen him for ages. I wrote him off, many times over. It had thus finally started to work. I didn't even think he would respond to me, he had cancelled on me on a number of occasions. We were supposed to meet when he returned from his trip and I returned from mine. Then it just never happened. In the process, I got rid of every single man. One by one they were gone. I did not need them any more. I only wanted him. I only loved him. It was not a physical thing. I had always thought that I loved him because it was due to physical attraction, but no it was not. I loved him because I loved him. It was really that simple. It needed not to be complicated. I can't even explain to anyone anyway.
He was my only.
I couldn't be with others anymore, when he was gone I was no longer in need of others. I couldn't handle the thought of me being with other people because without him, my intrigue was meaningless. Other men did not do it for me. He did. Maybe because he was the first person I felt a strong connection with when I first started to venture out. Maybe it made me feel guilty to be with others when I only felt strongly about one person.
When I saw him today I realized that I couldn't say no to him. I was reluctant to believe that he would make it happen. I had never wanted anyone but him, but when I wanted him emotionally it became a very complicated matter. I wanted him more than I let myself on, I couldn't communicate to him as to what I wanted.
I saw him and I couldn't even look at him. I was afraid. He kissed me. He was not being emotional. He wanted sex and that was all he ever wanted from me. But we were more than sexual partners. I shared with him a lot of my photos. I told him a lot of things in emails. I never felt this at home with anyone else. Being with other men made me feel guilty. Guilty with my family, guilty with him. I felt that I was betraying him. I had tried everything. I had tried to forget about him, stop seeing him, or thinking about him. But then when I heard from him again, when I started to talk to him again, I felt so comfortable and so at ease. It was as if no time had passed. it was as if we never broke up. In my head I had broken up with him three times. Each time I made a decision to move on, to be OK to never see him again, but then when he came back into my life, it felt like that we were never apart.
He went down on me. I had wanted that. It was as if he knew. I was so turned on that I couldn't say no when he pushed his cock into my mouth. It was as if all my promises had gone out of the window. He was once again in my world.
I would not be tossing the word "I love you" anytime soon. I would not be expecting anything from him any time soon.
I would not expect anything except that I know that I care about him and I cannot be who I am without him. He was the only person I want to have sex with. I care to have sex with.
I had not had sex for over two months now. It felt like forever. It felt like overdue. I felt utterly out of practice. I wanted him to stay inside of me forever. I didn't want him to leave me.
It was the middle of the afternoon. He got a room with a view. It was the hotel on Howard, close to him and close to me. I had been there two times before. I liked when he pissed inside of me. It turned me into a puddle, my judgment became clouded. He asked about my house in France. We chitchatted. I needed him to take care of me sexually. He said that we should agree on a week, and then we would work on getting together. To fuck. I asked when he would like the week to be, he said "next week."
I thought that was a good plan, assuming he would adhere to the plan. I thought I should sent him a note that say T-7, T-3, etc, as a reminder to his promise.
It's not the sex that I miss the most, it's the connection that I had with him. He said that it's been two years. We've been together for nearly two years. I said that we broke up, so technically it was our first date. He jokingly said, that I was too easy on our first date. In his embrace I felt at home. He's no longer a young man. I had not see him for ages. He looked that he had lighter hair, and he looked his age. Lots of wrinkles around his face. He looked thin, aged, and business like. I liked the way he looked and smelled. I loved the way his piss felt inside of me. More importantly I didn't care how he looked. I wanted him no matter what.
When he had to go piss later, I went over to hold his cock as he pissed in the bowl. I was thinking one time he told me that he liked that, to be held as he peed. I liked the feeling of his piss in the bowl. I wanted to be showered in his piss and drink his piss. If that is strange that's because I'm strange. I had always been surprisingly perverse with him and no one else.
Now that I had turned into this clean and wholesome person, I felt finally I could see through this clearly. I needed him. Sexually. I respected him. Professionally. I loved him, irrationally.
I realized that perhaps some sort of arrangement could be reached. I can not and will not have sex with another person. He would have sex with me on an occasion. I would pretend this side of my life did not exist, and I would continue being me.
But then part of me realized that would probably never work. Because deep down I knew eventually I would feel that I love him, and that I couldn't stand being away from him for several months of time. And I'd eventually become irritated and I'd make a note in my head to break up with him again. And the pattern would repeat over and over again.
The difference that I felt this time was that when I saw him this time, he looked significantly older than before, and instead of seeing this god like figure, he felt more like a human to me. I was worried that my attraction to him was really just pure physical, and now I realized it was more than that, it was never that superficial, it was something deeper, like kindred spirit, or blind love.
Perhaps I needed nothing more than a room with a view in the end. So that I could see him in the broad day light, and I could hold his face and kiss his lips, and realize that perhaps he too felt that I was there in his life for a reason, and no matter what, he would always want me as much as I wanted him.
And when we were no longer together, he would still remember this end of summer mid afternoon, I had let him back into my life, our bodies entwined, and a large crane working outside, I saw his hair, gray and curly, his kisses were small and leisurely, and I started to warm up, finally.
If this was our last meeting, this was how I should remember it: a middle age man, a mid afternoon sunlight, a large yellow crane, a man I could never say no to, this room, with a view.
I had not seen him for ages. I wrote him off, many times over. It had thus finally started to work. I didn't even think he would respond to me, he had cancelled on me on a number of occasions. We were supposed to meet when he returned from his trip and I returned from mine. Then it just never happened. In the process, I got rid of every single man. One by one they were gone. I did not need them any more. I only wanted him. I only loved him. It was not a physical thing. I had always thought that I loved him because it was due to physical attraction, but no it was not. I loved him because I loved him. It was really that simple. It needed not to be complicated. I can't even explain to anyone anyway.
He was my only.
I couldn't be with others anymore, when he was gone I was no longer in need of others. I couldn't handle the thought of me being with other people because without him, my intrigue was meaningless. Other men did not do it for me. He did. Maybe because he was the first person I felt a strong connection with when I first started to venture out. Maybe it made me feel guilty to be with others when I only felt strongly about one person.
When I saw him today I realized that I couldn't say no to him. I was reluctant to believe that he would make it happen. I had never wanted anyone but him, but when I wanted him emotionally it became a very complicated matter. I wanted him more than I let myself on, I couldn't communicate to him as to what I wanted.
I saw him and I couldn't even look at him. I was afraid. He kissed me. He was not being emotional. He wanted sex and that was all he ever wanted from me. But we were more than sexual partners. I shared with him a lot of my photos. I told him a lot of things in emails. I never felt this at home with anyone else. Being with other men made me feel guilty. Guilty with my family, guilty with him. I felt that I was betraying him. I had tried everything. I had tried to forget about him, stop seeing him, or thinking about him. But then when I heard from him again, when I started to talk to him again, I felt so comfortable and so at ease. It was as if no time had passed. it was as if we never broke up. In my head I had broken up with him three times. Each time I made a decision to move on, to be OK to never see him again, but then when he came back into my life, it felt like that we were never apart.
He went down on me. I had wanted that. It was as if he knew. I was so turned on that I couldn't say no when he pushed his cock into my mouth. It was as if all my promises had gone out of the window. He was once again in my world.
I would not be tossing the word "I love you" anytime soon. I would not be expecting anything from him any time soon.
I would not expect anything except that I know that I care about him and I cannot be who I am without him. He was the only person I want to have sex with. I care to have sex with.
I had not had sex for over two months now. It felt like forever. It felt like overdue. I felt utterly out of practice. I wanted him to stay inside of me forever. I didn't want him to leave me.
It was the middle of the afternoon. He got a room with a view. It was the hotel on Howard, close to him and close to me. I had been there two times before. I liked when he pissed inside of me. It turned me into a puddle, my judgment became clouded. He asked about my house in France. We chitchatted. I needed him to take care of me sexually. He said that we should agree on a week, and then we would work on getting together. To fuck. I asked when he would like the week to be, he said "next week."
I thought that was a good plan, assuming he would adhere to the plan. I thought I should sent him a note that say T-7, T-3, etc, as a reminder to his promise.
It's not the sex that I miss the most, it's the connection that I had with him. He said that it's been two years. We've been together for nearly two years. I said that we broke up, so technically it was our first date. He jokingly said, that I was too easy on our first date. In his embrace I felt at home. He's no longer a young man. I had not see him for ages. He looked that he had lighter hair, and he looked his age. Lots of wrinkles around his face. He looked thin, aged, and business like. I liked the way he looked and smelled. I loved the way his piss felt inside of me. More importantly I didn't care how he looked. I wanted him no matter what.
When he had to go piss later, I went over to hold his cock as he pissed in the bowl. I was thinking one time he told me that he liked that, to be held as he peed. I liked the feeling of his piss in the bowl. I wanted to be showered in his piss and drink his piss. If that is strange that's because I'm strange. I had always been surprisingly perverse with him and no one else.
Now that I had turned into this clean and wholesome person, I felt finally I could see through this clearly. I needed him. Sexually. I respected him. Professionally. I loved him, irrationally.
I realized that perhaps some sort of arrangement could be reached. I can not and will not have sex with another person. He would have sex with me on an occasion. I would pretend this side of my life did not exist, and I would continue being me.
But then part of me realized that would probably never work. Because deep down I knew eventually I would feel that I love him, and that I couldn't stand being away from him for several months of time. And I'd eventually become irritated and I'd make a note in my head to break up with him again. And the pattern would repeat over and over again.
The difference that I felt this time was that when I saw him this time, he looked significantly older than before, and instead of seeing this god like figure, he felt more like a human to me. I was worried that my attraction to him was really just pure physical, and now I realized it was more than that, it was never that superficial, it was something deeper, like kindred spirit, or blind love.
Perhaps I needed nothing more than a room with a view in the end. So that I could see him in the broad day light, and I could hold his face and kiss his lips, and realize that perhaps he too felt that I was there in his life for a reason, and no matter what, he would always want me as much as I wanted him.
And when we were no longer together, he would still remember this end of summer mid afternoon, I had let him back into my life, our bodies entwined, and a large crane working outside, I saw his hair, gray and curly, his kisses were small and leisurely, and I started to warm up, finally.
If this was our last meeting, this was how I should remember it: a middle age man, a mid afternoon sunlight, a large yellow crane, a man I could never say no to, this room, with a view.
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