I wrote this rough draft back in January shortly after returning from winter break. I never finished it, but want to post it anyway for completeness sake. Also this series of three posts will be my last ones about Gent for a very long time, so I want to capture as many of those memories as possible while I can.
buy neurontin cod The Last Time
The last time we fucked was the Wednesday before I went back to school. I knew it would be a goodbye, for now.
It was the makeup for our previously canceled dinner and drinking plans.
G: You know this is cheating, right?
Me: I know, but I also know I care for you and whatever time you can give me I’m going to hold on to with all ten fingers and ten toes.
Part of me wondered if it would happen at all. He and I can sometimes cross wires when it comes to planning outings. This time was no different. A miscommunication delayed our meeting up until 7pm. As I got ready, he informed me he was already tipsy from a lunchtime meet-up with a friend. My emotions, being what they are, feared a last minute cancellation or an unenjoyable evening. Neither of which were our fate.
I wore a pretty dress he’d never seen before, wore my hair down, and even donned earrings and heals. I wanted to look good for him, wanted to leave him with a memory of me he could be proud of.
When I got to his place, I knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I tried the nob. It was unlocked. I entered and announced myself. He yelled a greeting from his bathroom, which was back in his bedroom. I put down my things, walked towards him. He stood at his sink wearing only a towel around his waist.
I turned sheepish. I think he took pleasure in my awkwardness. This view of him was something to be admired, and yet my politeness battled my desire to not take my eyes off him. He walked around, getting ready. He removed his towel. His body was meant to be rendered in marble: cut lines, masculine proportions, and fist biting features I relish remembering even now.
Relax, he said more than once. Around him, it is hardly ever possible for me to do so.
He clothed, called an Uber, and had us on our way into downtown.
We ate at a hipster sheik restaurant.
“Eat the fries,” he said, a stern smile on his face.
Our restaurant was half a block away from the themed bar where we wished to conclude our evening: The Christmas Bar.
The rest of the night, back at his place, punctuated in moments:
Goodbye fucking. Missing you while you’re still inside me.
Trying to remember every touch, every caress.
Your smell on you, soaked in your sheets, hoping it will stick to me as I drive home.
Kiss fuck bite pain pleasure…
“Put your pussy on my mouth.”
“Can I have your ass tonight?”
“I want to feel you cum on my cock.”
Lifting my dress, pulling down my tights, and fucking me against your dining room table.
You, naked against the wall. Me, clothed, knelt in front of you. Your cock in my mouth, fucking my face.
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