For any who are curious, yes, he did come over for another '24' episode — only this time, I got to be fucked from behind while watching. It was hard to pay attention, but kind of a fun game to try to watch the show AND still cum! (I think I managed alright..!)
We eventually started seeing each other somewhat regularly. We got together whenever we could. I moved a couple different times, all out of town … so it made it difficult — perhaps the distance is what kept things okay, as in, we couldn’t really get together often, so the once in a while made it fun.
I have memories of him at every house I moved to. I have memories of the great connection, the amazing sex, the wonderful conversations, the enjoyment in time spent together.
He took some really hot pictures of me — I guess, because of the way I felt about him, looking back on those pictures, I really DID feel hot when he took them.
Finally, in July of 2009, I realized that my feelings for him had changed. I know I looked forward to spending time with him more than I did with anyone else. I know that the sex we had was no longer just sex for the sake of sex. I had fallen in love with this man and I knew it could never be.
I think we both felt stuck. I think we both knew that things couldn’t go on like this, but we were pretty much addicted. The sex was JUST THAT GOOD. We felt so comfortable with one another after all this time, that we were open to try anything or talk to each other about anything. But it was never going to go anywhere. As great as the physical connection was, as great as our conversations were, as much time as we spent together — he still had a girlfriend. I was always going to be “the other woman.” And I didn’t resent him for that.. I knew the stakes going in and I would never expect more.
But I also knew, that for the better part of 4 years, I had not been able to commit to another relationship, because I was somehow still holding on to the possibility that one day he would choose me. And he was never going to. He knew he wanted to marry her (and as I write this, I can confirm, he did!)
I remember that day. I remember that last kiss.
I remember the amazing afternoon we had together before I told him he couldn’t come back again.
I remember closing the door behind him and sinking to the cold tiled floor and bursting into hot tears.
I felt like my world had shattered.
The strange thing is, and I know it wasn’t completely related, but that night I suffered the first 24hour psychotic episode in over 7 years. There were all kinds of extenuating circumstances, but I can’t help believing the loss was a major precipitating factor.
I moved on. Life came and went. I think it was last year that I finally reached out to him again. We don’t speak often, we both know it’s like playing with fire…. He confirmed that he still gets off to thoughts of us, to pictures of me, to these very stories. Truthfully, I try not to think about him. Except, every fortune-cookie fortune brings him to mind. Every martial arts mention makes his quirky grin cross my mind. Every construction surveyor I drive past… Every set of bright blue eyes… truthfully, he seeps into a lot of my thoughts.
But it doesn’t hurt the same any more. It’s just a dull ache in the back of my throat (fitting somehow, I’m sure!)
Do I regret any of it? Fuck no! :) Do I wish it had happened differently, or ended differently? I’m not sure. I think it had to run it’s own course and our lives unfolded as they needed to at the time.
I’m in a really good place right now, so I can look back and feel nostalgic without feeling the loss.
What I am sure about is that I’m glad I wrote about our really hot times together. I’m glad I can look back and still get wet remembering them. And mostly, I’m glad I got to know him, even if we were never destined for more!
(if you’ve just read this and you’re confused, click this and read from the bottom up!)
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