| My birthday came and went. Came anyway. Reese. Good, old, reliable, fucked up Reese. I missed him. Despite the fact he's probably the single most cold and inattentive guy I have ever been with, he has got to be, without a doubt, the absolute BEST lover I have EVER had. And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that's why I'm so… bitter. Because it was so good. It was SOOOOOO GOOOOOOD! I wanted more. I didn't want him to stop. And when I left him, when I walked away, I could still taste him on my tongue, smell him on my hands. I wanted it to be romantic. I wanted to treasure the fact that he was still over me. I wanted to believe that he missed me in some way. FOR GODS SAKE!!! This dude just had his tongue up my rectum... I didn't think a little post-rimming reflection was too much to ask on his part. And I'm sure he didn't. And I'm sure in a couple of months when his skin temperature drops to the level of his heart, I'll get a phone call. Out of the blue. Like the day before my birthday. He has about as much tact as a pit bull and I knew the minute I picked up the phone what he wanted. I hadn't seen him in months but I KNEW what he wanted. He invited me over to his house. That was different. That never happened before. I've never been over there before. My hopeless romantic tendencies made me think that he was starting to warm up. Evolve a little. It never occurred to me that he just didn't feel like getting up. He wanted "Booty Delivery." And it was good. It was phenomenal really. I have yet to experience anything like it, consistently. In bed, he's so passionate. Compassionate. Rough. Concerned. Determined. Big. Really big. I've never been a size queen but I could live two lifetimes with him inside of me. And he loves every minute of it too. He's about 6'9" with a basketball player's build and he moves my body in ways I've given up doing since my potbelly went condo. I lay on my back and he… covers me with his body. Spreads my legs open. Knees in my armpits. Reaches his neck over to kiss me. And he pounds. He pounds like a jackhammer. I've heard guys say they hate that. They don't have a pussy and they don't like to be pummeled like that. I don't have a pussy either. But I do have an ass and it, I, like it to be fucked… pretty hard… which is what he did… and I never wanted him to stop. "Damn I forgot how this feels." "I'll make sure to remind you more often." "You like that man? You like that ass?" "Best ass I ever had. You don't know how you make a nigga's dick feel." And he keeps going and going. I'll roll over on my knees and he fucks me doggy style. My chest pressed up against the bed. I'm sore and tired and moaning. And he fucks me. And I'm feeling him pull out me, and pushing into me, his thighs against my ass, his palms pushing down on my shoulders. "You like that dick?" "Yes baby, yes." "That's right, take all that dick. 'Cause I'm a take all this ass." "Just don't take it out. Don't take it out." And he didn't. Even after he came. Even after he goes down. Even after he stops moving. Even after he bends down and kisses me on the back of my neck. The back of my head. My cheek. My lips. He doesn't take it out. I don't let him go. I don't want to. "Just stay there. Don't move. Don't go. Please." But he does. After awhile. Eventually. And I walk away with him still over me. I smell him on my hands. I taste him on my tongue. And he won't miss me. But I'll get a phone call in a couple of months. Out of the blue. When his skin temperature drops to the level of his heart. He'll ask me to warm one when I want the other. We both know I'll come over, to take what I can get, like a vulture, picking over what his life left. |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |