The Tears

I will be fine for long stretches. Happy with my relationship with Mr. Jones, happy with everything, and then it hits me like a rogue wave out of nowhere — an intense, visceral twisting stab of longing. Longing so strong it sometimes leaves me out of breath or in tears or both.

I’ve had to stop myself many, many times from writing him and telling him about Mr. Jones, that I have permission now, so to speak. Why do I stop? Because if I do this, it will irrevocably damage my relationship. When Mr. Jones gave me a pass, he wanted to make things easier for me, but when I questioned him about it…it would tear him up inside, and I don’t want to do that to him. And my feelings for Terminator are not minor. Emotions would intensify and complicate things, so…no.

But sometime I am hit by a flashback — our last time, we’re panting, sweaty, fused together, his hot breath on my neck, his cock so deep inside it hurts, and the our eyes meet. That kiss. Jesus, that kiss. And I am destroyed.

Image: La Bacchante by Gustave Courbet [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons


Inaugural: Terminator Edition (Part I)

The Terminator greeted me at the door freshly showered and wrapped in a towel. I love a man with a sense of focus.  We were together again after six months, and we had unfinished business. Why waste time with clothes?

He took me in his arms as soon as we reached his bedroom and started kissing my face, my mouth, my neck, and softly biting and nibbling his way to the base of my throat. His tongue softly caressed that soft spot sending a soft wave of heat through my body.

He  maneuvered me out of my top and then pulled off my pants, kneeling in front of me as I sat on the bed. His hands followed the pants down my leg to my bare feet. He looked up at me and He had lost the towel at some point, and I glanced at his impossibly long cock and smiled. His gaze traveled up my body and back down between my legs. His lazy half smile was back. The smile that makes me want to fuck his brains out. Finally, we were in bed naked, together.

He drank me in with his hands and his mouth, and teased me with his fingers, kissing me while arousing my soft spot, making me wet and creamy with desire and then making me come in intense waves that made me clutch his hand and hump it with shameless abandon. He was all debauched encouragement, kissing me and whispering sweet and crazy things.

Then he was on his knees, and he grabbed my calves and yanked me so violently toward him I screamed. He didn’t hurt me, he startled me. Then his tongue inside me, I couldn’t think of anything else except that soft hot pressure, licking and stroking me so sweetly and insistently. That soft caress is like his huge cock, a lethal weapon. He stops and softly kisses my pussy from top to bottom; he kisses and licks the creases where my legs meet my pussy as if he was bestowing a benediction. I felt blessed. His mouth returned to my pussy where he continued stroking and teasing me, bringing me to the brink and stopping until I couldn’t take it anymore, my body was pleading with him. He started that soft caress again, tasting, stroking, pressing  that sweet spot until I came, riding his tongue to nirvana. Shivering, shaking, moaning and screaming, his tongue was my universe. Yes.

Five minutes later he’s pushing his ten-inch (it looked longer Friday for some reason) sword into me and starts slowly pumping me. It feels so good I’m whimpering. Penetration at last, yes! I can’t describe how truly wonderful it feels to be fucked these days. I don’t know if it’s hormones or what, but the moment dick touches me I’m whimpering, moaning or crying because it is so good and beautiful. With J. the feeling of that penetration is so good I’ve cried. It’s like I never want it to stop or end. And I feel this on a cellular level. With Terminator it feels amazing but less emotional.

Terminator is making me all juicy and I feel myself closing around him as he slowly thrusts into me, deeper and deeper until we reach our groove and he is impossibly deep and I’m meeting his thrusts, moaning. He’s softly saying my name, over and over like a chant. This surprises me because he’s usually so quiet. Then he lifts my legs over his shoulders and starts pounding me, hitting the spot that makes me ejaculate, yes ejaculate — like a fountain. This makes him wild — it always has — and he starts thrusting like a piston, making me squirt and yes, scream, because he is hitting me harder than ever, he is out of control, and I’m starting to come, watching his glistening dick pumping in and out of me. It hurts so good.

Later.  “Come for me,” he whispers, as he pumps me mercilessly, He is hitting me so deeply and so hard I’m helpless beneath him, and a little scared. He has never fucked me so hard and so fast. Usually he is all about giving pleasure, but now he is taking it, without mercy. He slams into me, placing his hands under my ass, lifting me off the bed so that I’m tilted toward him and all I can feel is his cock hitting me deep inside, his hands squeezing my ass and his breath on my neck and in my ear. I’m vaguely aware of a puddle, of liquid, but I’m chasing an orgasm on his luscious dick.  The delicious pain I feel with his crazed thrusts becomes stronger, more necessary, and I start to come, my pussy contracting around him, my clit at attention from the assault,  in orgasm I am moaning, howling, screaming. Oh and squirting. Terminator is the only man (so far) who can make me do this. I had no idea I could ejaculate until he entered my hallowed walls. When we get into a fucking frenzy I become a fountain, its unbelievable. And magical.

We are a tangled heap of limbs when I am aware again. The wet spot feels huge. Terminator gets a towel for the bed and I still can’t believe I really squirted all this fluid. I’m convinced his equipment is hitting a spot (the “A” spot) that makes me ejaculate and orgasm so powerfully. I have several types of orgasms, but with Terminator they are all of the very strong “in deep” variety. I’m lying on my side, dozing and he is stroking my back, leaving a trail of little kisses up one side of my body, stroking me, licking me, playing with me.

Despite the amazing sex and orgasms, something feels different. I realize that it’s me, I’m no longer in love with him. I realize that my feelings are with J. and this makes me deeply happy. I’m enjoying the Terminator but it’s clear that I have to tell him. As soon as possible, because this should be the last time we meet.  I took a deep breath and turned to face him.  (to be continued)

Image: photo by Jovan Charlton, ©Jovan Charlton 

The Sigh – Terminator 3

It’s been weeks. We need to talk, but lust, as always, is heavy in the air between us. We’ve spoken briefly about the stressful week we’ve had. We’re smiling, delighted to be in the same room at last. We kiss, and as we melt into each other, we make the same noise at the same time, a musical sigh of bliss and contentment  Finally we’re I together again.

Our kisses are tender and hungry, a blend of fire-roasted sensuality and sweetness that’s almost beyond enduring. Our tongues linger as we lick, nibble, bite, and suck, loving not only each other’s mouths but eyes, noses, cheeks, ears and necks, eliciting moans and sighs and gasps of pleasure. As we fall back on the bed we’re tightly entwined in a long kiss. He breaks the kiss and moves to my neck and proceeds to lick and suck his way down to my breasts, where he lavishes attention on my nipples before moving slowly down my stomach to my pussy, which evidently is his favorite place in world. Yes, baby yes.

He moans as I push against his wicked tongue, which is both soft and relentless, caressing and insistently driving me out of my mind with pleasure. He stops and kisses that crease where my leg meet my pussy on each side, licking and sucking the full length of me before returning to torment me with licks up and down the center before returning to my clit, which is now aching for attention. His soft insistence is driving me over the edge when he inserts two fingers inside me and turns me into a moaning, panting screaming animal. Oh. My. God. Yessssss!

He’s standing at the edge of the bed, looking me with this lop-sided smile and he doesn’t give me a second. He takes my leg and says “Turn over.” Who am I to argue? First he gives me a back massage that is soooo good I want to reciprocate but he refuses.

He props me up on my knees and proceeds to dive head first into my ass (guys I don’t get this but it feels heavenly) and then my pussy. His kisses move down my legs from thigh to toes. He takes each one in his mouth. Then the other leg…sweet Jesus, and then having properly turned me to jelly, he enters me from behind, where we start slowly, sweetly and build up speed and intensity until he pounds me to another amazing orgasm. I’m incoherent by this point and he he gathers me up in his arms and holds me. We’re all kissy and caress-y and I’ve never been more content in my life, but things are about to take a turn for the complicated.

So when last I heard from the Terminator, we were at a standoff of sorts. I had lied, he knew or suspected, and all communication had stopped.  I said I wouldn’t reach out until he did, and then the bad date happened. Then I  decide to do Talmud guy but he has to go to London for a week. We tried mightily to fit in a tryst before he left, but couldn’t. So there I was, frustrated, fed up, and out of viable options.

I called Terminator early on Wednesday afternoon but got no answer. I hung up and thought I’d try one more time in the morning. After that, oh well.  That evening he called me back and we talked for over an hour. We didn’t discuss the impasse at all. It was a “so glad to hear from you” conversation. We talked about family (his mom is sick and recovering), his birthday (which happened while we weren’t communicating), his five-year-plan and raising kids and food. And of course when we would see each other again.

But just like his bed, whenever I tried to end the conversation so he could tend to his family he wanted to keep going. We were both happy (I know I was thrilled). “It’s not like we get to talk a lot when we’re together,” he says. “Basically I just want to tear your clothes off the minute I see you.”  He truly sounds elated to hook up Friday, as am I. But we both know there’s the elephant in the room that must be attended to. Apparently we’re equally reluctant. Well, it would be better face to face anyway.

Post Coitus
We’ve been relaxing a little while and I say “Let me ask you a question. How do you keep from getting emotionally involved with all these women? I think I’m getting emotionally involved, and I so don’t want to be that chick that’s totally strung out on a guy who’s not interested…I don’t know what to do.”

“Usually I re-direct myself, think about other things, focus on something else, but…”
“But it hasn’t been working with you.”
“I thought I was sensing something, but I wasn’t sure, then I thought I was crazy…don’t say what you think I want to hear. I need you to be totally honest.”

“You’re not crazy. It’s amazing between us. When I try to ask you about it you change the subject. The last time was so amazing and then you couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

“That’s not true!” I’m laughing, but really I didn’t rush out.

“You ran out of here like a bat out of hell,” he’s laughing now.
Is that true? Was I so afraid of catching feelings that I ran out of his house? I don’t think so but…

“It’s just that neither of us wants a relationship, that’s how this started, I was trying to decide what to do.”

“So what have you decided?” He sounded like he expected me to dump him. Maybe in an alternate universe.

“To deal with it, and talk to you. One of my friends said you had to be going through the same thing.”

“She was right.”

“I tried re-directing. I mean I didn’t go to Vegas, that was about creating distance, and I’m trying dating other people.”

“Yeah,” he says “I tried that too for my birthday weekend…it was soooo bad…I don’t want to talk about it.”

I laugh. I knew it was his birthday and I was so upset he didn’t tell me anything about it, I thought I had my proof that he wasn’t interested in me beyond fucking my brains out. Now this.

“But it’s been so fast,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m like ‘why am I sitting here missing her? Thinking about her?’ I’m recently divorced [3 years] and not supposed to be feeling like this about anyone.” He recently stopped skyping with his ex who is re-married and lives across the country. I think he has unresolved feelings for her, but he denies it vehemently. But he thinks three years ago is recently.

“Me too. I almost didn’t send you my playlist (some sexy jazz I put together) because I thought the titles would freak you out.”

“You cannot freak me out.”

“So from day one? I’m not crazy? it was that fast?”

“Day one. When you left I couldn’t believe it.”

“It’s so exhausting pretending this isn’t happening, I don’t want to do that anymore. I just want to enjoy this, as long as we’re on the same page.”
So I didn’t want to have a big huge discussion about what does this mean and are we going to forsake all others because I’m not ready for that, and neither is he. I told him I wanted to keep things the way they were (except more) and as long as we were honest and respectful of each other’s feelings, cool. I didn’t get into specifics because I was freaked out enough bringing up feelings in the first place. That will come later. Yeah, I’ve had therapy. What?

But I’m being naive. Feelings aren’t static; things are going to get more intense, possession is going to come into play (I’m a Leo and once I fuck you, you pretty much belong to me forever is the way it goes in my head), and because relationships are complicated.

And, after our talk (which is paraphrased and shortened here) the sex got better.  How is that even friggin’ possible? There was depth; more tenderness, more feeling, more expression…Ok, the man made me stop a blowjob because it was too intense and he started shivering? I would rate my skills as only slightly above average; those always have to come from the heart with me, and he’s never asked, which means he deserves it. And I’m more orgasmic than I’ve ever been in my life. I thought it was hormones. Maybe it’s feelings.

Image: The Lovers by Richard Young available for purchase here. I do not own the image or copyright, no infringement intended.
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