the life and musings of a kinky slut


Save for brushing against each other while in passing, we didn’t touch for hours. He did this on purpose.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

It was the first time I’d seen him since right after my spring break. The first time I’d seen him since he told me he had a girlfriend. The first time we’d gotten together in a month.

He’d canceled on me twice since, so I didn’t actually think I was going to see the Gent last night, but then he showed up.

“How are you going to feel if we fuck?”
“I’ll be fine. Wait, am I lying to myself? My emotions are my emotions. It is not your job to take care of me.”
“You’re my friend, so of course I want to take care of you. Of course I care about your emotions.”

I wanted to fuck him. I really wanted to fuck him. I didn’t want to think about how I’d feel after.

Since I decided to be completely open and honest with him, no longer censoring my thoughts, stopping myself from asking questions or relaying my opinions, words that I never thought I’d say left my lips Tuesday night over french fries among the din of the bar/pool hall.

“You know you are going to break up with her. She wants to wait til marriage for sex, and you are such a sexual person.

“I mean, it’s obvious, it is so fucking obvious that you should be with me.

“So when you break up with her, because you are going to break up with her, I’ll be here, and I’ll say, ‘Alright, let’s do this.’

“And I’m not saying that this is it or I’ve found the one or some bullshit like that. But our chemistry is amazing. And you’re a good friend. And you make me laugh. So I think we should give this a try.”

When we finally did touch, it was outside while we stood beneath an overhang away from the light rain. He asked me my odds on us fucking that night.

“In favor?”
“That’s high.”
“Not really. It’s just favorable.”

He had been playing a song over and over again for the past week. I said I had as well.

“Wouldn’t it be weird if it were the same song?”
“It’s not the same song.”

But he was right; it would’ve been weird.

His endless repeat reminded me of European pop rock, trance-like, with unintelligible lyrics, though I thought the vocalist was singing about waiting.

As I listened, his phone resting on his right arm, we both leaned over the railing. My left arm snuck up against his. It didn’t matter that three layers of clothing stood between our skin. It felt intense to be near him.

I closed my eyes and took in the music. I swiveled my hips, finding myself wanting to dance.

My endless repeat was J. Cole feat. Missy Elliott – Nobody’s Perfect. Truth be told, J. Cole has nothing to do with why I love the song. The back beat and Missy Elliott’s chorus make me want to hear the single over and over again.

Nobody’s perfect, Nobody’s perfect, A, A
But you’re perfect for me
Nobody’s perfect, Nobody’s perfect, A, A
But you’re perfect for me
We rumbling, we riding
He like to go inside and
I love to go all night and
We rock the boat Poseidon
I love to call your name, name, name
And baby I love to call your name, name, name, yeah…

This wasn’t a marathon session, unfortunately; we only hung out for a few hours at the bar. He walked me to my car and said he was going home, alone. No reason why, other than the time. It was around 10:30pm.

“If we start fucking, I won’t want to stop.”
“I’ve trained myself to survive on an hour’s sleep.”

I looped a finger through his belt.

“Not in public.”
“Right, your job.”
“Conservative company.”
“You could use your job as an excuse for just about anything.”

We finally hugged. He let me linger in his arms as I took in his scent, a scent I caught in passing throughout our evening. I had almost forgotten how good he smells.

As we parted, and he strolled away, for a moment he paused, spinning his keys on his finger, a large grin on his face. This is how I remember him.

With Shibaricon in eight days, his now frequent travel for his job, and me neck deep in busy season, I don’t know when I’ll see the Gent again. But I do so look forward to our next encounter.

I’m guessing when I bring this up to Doc, he’ll praise me for sticking up for myself, not sitting idly by and letting life shit on me.

I did something different. What comes of it, though, is yet to be seen.

Categorised as: Doc | Gent | Music

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