Connections (Part 2)

If you missed Part One click here.

Arriving at my destination I looked forward to seeing my friend.

For a year I had cultivated a relationship with him. It was not so much about sexual attraction as it was about sexual freedom and sexual discovery. He knew my deepest desires, my insecurities, my likes, my dislikes, my stories and my fantasies.

We fell immediately into each other’s arms. His embrace seemed to melt away time and space. I took him to my room. We put on our pajamas and climbed into bed. I cried in his arms. I cried for the week I had had. I cried for the loss of my naiveté. I cried for release.

All the while he held me. He rubbed my back. He stroked my hair and when the sobbing stopped, he kissed my tears away. He kissed my eyes. He kissed my cheeks. He kissed my lips. He gently lifted my shirt over my head. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, my breasts. He kissed my belly, my thighs, my toes. He held me all night.

I begged him to make love to me. I wanted to know him. I wanted to feel him. I wanted him inside of me! I pleaded and begged and teased, but to no avail. Why he wouldn’t fuck me?

My friend was the gentleman I knew him to be. The friend who treated me as friends are supposed to. But not the friend I yearned for, despaired for, sought out that night.

He smoothed my hair from my tear-stuck face and wrapped his arms around me and I slept. I slept deeper and more soundly than I had in weeks. I woke curled up in those arms. He brushed kisses across my forehead.

There would be another time for my desires.

Last night he was there for my true needs.

~ by Diana on April 17, 2008.

2 Responses to “Connections (Part 2)”

  1. he’s a better man than most
    than me

  2. Sounds like quite a guy.

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