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Today is too weird. Right now as a matter of fact. Sunday afternoons are... WERE my guy and me time. Every Sunday afternoon I find myself missing him bad. Sure I miss hooking his knees over my shoulders so I could eat his ass and the way his cock fit inside me hand in glove, and the taste of his cum, which I only swallowed after a good swoosh and savor in my mouth or the satisfaction I got from going out in public knowing I had a belly full of it whichever end he'd made his deposit. But even more I find myself missing his face, his eyes, his voice, his gentle touch, and frankly, his obsession with me.
I set the whole ugly story out in my other diary. The long and short is that in September 2001 he got a crush on me and started courting me, in January 2003 I succumbed and fell in love, in July 2003 he had a breakdown over having fallen in love with another man (among other things I'm sure) -- confused 'straight' boy! -- then he suddenly became a fundamentalist Christian. The fix isn't taking and he'd started courting me again, but hot and cold, fucking with my head (in the non-fun way).
This past weekend we duked it out over email and I've finally stopped putting up with his bullshit, lost compassion, and allowed him to alienate me completely. Yesterday was my first day of freedom, and this morning I felt so cured that I actually managed to get stuff done.
Also this weekend, Thursday to be exact, my partner, the L O, left on a certain annual business trip. He'll be back this evening. Last year, a four day weekend with the house to myself meant my guy was here.
I'm wandering and letting the heart be doing the thinking/writing. That's for the other diary.
So this Sunday has been the first Sunday that he hadn't consumed me. Last night I wrote part 1 of a fantasy concerning another diary guy, thegoodbiboy, with whom I've been exchanging some really steamy emails. I went to bed (alone) and wound up humping my stroker sleeve 4x thinking about him. Usually it's my guy. My guy did wander in and out of my fuck thoughts, though. But not so much. It's only been very recently that I've been able to jerk off without thinking about my guy and only him.
So I was pleased that my guy had left me alone pretty much, and over the course of the morning I got stuff done, then for a break I started surfing the diaries thegoodbiboy recommended. When I got to that of pantypulldwn, I got too wowed and had to go back to the beginning. Wowed not just she's hot, but because of her experience. (Read her diary and you'll understand the following. I'm only into November with hers, but I'm so bowled over I couldn't help making an entry.)
She's a woman in a dead-end marriage. She is mutually seduced by a 19 year old stud. I, 38 at the time, was seduced by a 20 year old. My marriage was 15 years at that point and we had virtually become roommates with separate lives. It's salvageable, though, even though sex with him is bleh. I'll work on it. Another other diary issue.) The biggest difference I've found so far between the experience of pantypulldown and my own is that my guy and I fell in love with each other before we started having sex. If we wanted to be nothing more than occasional fuck-buddies, but it didn't work that way. We never 'had sex', we only ever made love. There's a HUGE difference. I'm the first he'd ever made love to. Also the first he'd ever said "I love you" to. I'm not his first guy (the way he first sucked me off made it obvious! Wow!), but I was the first person he'd ever not just gotten his rocks off with and moved on. Sad to say, but that was the first I felt I was being made love to as well.
My guy hit a spot in me that no one else ever has. Ya know how sustained eye contact becomes uncomfortable and someone blinks first? With him and me, never. Unless we were kissing (eyes closed) -- and he's the best kisser (and cocksucker, and fucker) I've ever known -- when our eyes were locked, it was never in a harsh way, but in a 'I should have strapped a board to my ass lest I fall in' way. And the sensation was mutual. It's hard to describe. I'd only ever let 3 guys take me before, the last of which was the L O, and the last time he did was in... '90? My guy was the most... well, the most. I can remember how riding him, or our getting missionary, our eyes would hold each other in such a loving, gentle way. With the others it was a harsh, dominance look, if they looked at all. With my guy, not at all. Not ever.
You guys know, gals too maybe (not being a gal I don't know!) that when you're on the edge of cumming, cumming is all you''ve got on your mind, though if you cum hard like me, nothing's on your mind. You're transported into somewhere speechless, somewhere totally inside yourself. On the verge, you might be able to eek out "I'm gonna cum!" Well, the last time my guy and I made love was a Sunday afternoon. (June 22 to be exact.)
That afternoon, just as he was cumming, rather than make the grunt/ahh as usual, he blurted "I love you, Seth!" And not in a whisper. We were in spoon position at the time. I pulled his hand from my hip and held it to my chest immediately, as if in reflex. I didn't know what to say. I didn't think about it either. I was too busy being lost in the feeling of him inside me, the pulsations of his cock when he came, the tensing of his body when he did, the sound of his voice, our bodies so close, the intimacy we shared... It was the first he'd ever spoken when we were enjoined. And for him to say that of all things! (Not like he'd never said it before. He told me a lot, to my face and through email. Even mouthing it when we saw each other where he couldn't speak it.)
When I'd returned to myself, probably seconds later but damn if it didn't feel like minutes or hours, I said in a tiny voice, "I love you, R___." And I meant it. I didn't mean to mean it. I didn't want to mean it. But I did. For him to have said it the point of deepest no return time meant something.
This moment is very weird for me. I gained freedom from him (pretty much), then pantypulldwn, uh, pulled me down. Add to her story that my name is Seth and add to my freak out.
Down on her? Not on your life! She, her diary that is, has helped me validate a lot and dispel the complacency I had recently gained.
Excuse me while I go read more of her story. Her sweet little peach is making me hungry anyway.
Cheers to you, T!
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encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02
Bones - 2008-09-20
random bitchings and musings - 2008-07-09
Man with Huge Cock - 2008-07-04
Eric and other crazy shit - 2008-06-29
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