Two things happened, as they often do.
I was sitting on the balcony (we no longer have what I would call a porch) and I looked up, I smiled a hello to MamaMoon and went inside.
When I came back out she was shining bright in her half-moon state, illuminating the clouds in a fairy ring. The kind that denotes sexy times ahead, not a storm comin’.
Although I suppose it’s gonna get wet either way.
And suddenly, after a bout of the sads, I kinda wanted sexy time.
I jerked off a couple of times, for the first time since before we moved. So unlike me. But my heart and my vagina have a covenant, and we miss the Last One something fierce, still do.
I found creature comfort with the Giant and honestly, that was enough to keep me sated for a bit. Just something familiar, now with extra lightning.
The second thing that happened is the one I called “Coach” posted and Instagram video of his new fuckboy haircut. He called it that, not I. But if the fuckboy moniker and lovely fade fits, wear it.
I messaged a compliment and voila. It’s a date. Except it isn’t a date. It’s a bootycall and we both know it.
Me: Are we going to eat and watch a movie or should I just be naked when you get here?
Him: Whatever you want babe
(well played sweetness)
Me: Honestly I just want to get laid and cuddle before I go away
Him: Okay beauty, let’s just fuck a couple times
Me: Hope that doesn’t sound like I am using you
I mean I am, but I don’t want it to sound like that.
Him: lol. We’re on the same page
And we are. We both keep trying to date and we both keep coming up empty.
Then he gets a haircut on a day I feel like getting laid and ta da. Definitely same page.
It’s a really good haircut.
I answered the door in panties and stockings, we did not pass go, he did not say hi to my roommate, we just went straight to bed.
Fuck. Spoon. Leave.
He has earned himself a new nickname. Once upon a time he would have been Bad Fuck, but that was taken years ago, by a guy who ended up being a crack dealer. Not a good time in my life, I was at my lowest. I didn’t stay long, but ya…he was a bad fuck, like the worst. I make better choices now.
He was also formerly known as Coach, but it didn’t really suit him even though that is what he is. We were internet ‘friends’ for a year prior, bitching and moaning and asking questions about the other’s gender as in “why in god’s name did he or she do that?”
He asked me out gently for the bulk of that year, I always declined as he was affiliated with someone else I had been with, and again, he is young, like 22 young (Lord where do you keep finding them and why do you keep sending them to me). But you knew all this, then we had a perfect date, and a week later had pretty shitty sex. Months passed, we discussed the elephant in the room and here we are.
His new nickname is Big Spoon. He earned it. Right after, and I mean immediately after, he pulls me close and holds onto me. It is the sweetest fucking thing. And strange, he is also, for all intents and purposes and asshole jock/jerk. We bicker, I would never speak to him of magical things, just the weather and whether or not he likes that thing I do with my tongue, and he does.
Almost too much
Oh Big Spoon, you little shit.
I heard that hope in your voice when you mentioned not bringing condoms.
I was hovering over him, about 3 inches or so, close enough to feel his body heat radiating towards mine. Biting, teasing and throbbing if I am going to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me, “god have you been working out?’
The ‘allergy’ to latex seems to have died out with the last generation, these young un’s don’t try that shit, or I am just picking better young un’s.
He didn’t want raw, no no, not that. He wanted me to keep blowing him. Who wouldn’t? I have a talented tongue and no gag reflex.
Poor dear has come up wanting every time his cock ends up in a girls’ mouth.
He thought if he ‘forgot’ to bring condoms, my accommodating personality and mouth would just get him off out of…pity, obligation? Dunno.
I will blow you again, after I eat.
Always do. He knows this.
So I reached into my bedside table and grabbed a condom.
I learned a million years ago, bring your own.
He fed me.
“You spoil me” he said, right after, as he was holding onto me like the grail.
I know he meant it as a compliment but it torn through me like a knife. Echoes of that Swain boy.
I dug my fingers into him, trying to keep my grip on this reality and just stay in it for a minute.
I had to take a deep breath, I know my voice waivered a little, he kissed my forehead and I said…
“I worry about that. Sleeping with men half my age and then letting them back out into the mediocre world. I know what it’s like to have the best piece of cake you are ever going to eat when you’re young and the yearning that comes with it. But I want you to remain optimistic. If I exist, and I do, there must be others.”
Find the others.
I was soothing him and myself at the same time.
He is not lightning sex, he is not magic in any way.
But he is really good food, and I am full. Ani Difranco