isotretinoin buy online Double Take looks like Gent in his email profile picture. It’s uncanny and a little nerve wracking.
Also, like Gent, when I met DT he was engaged. Now he’s married.
Unlike Gent, DT is sweet and kind, with a smile that makes me soft and warm inside. Experiencing this made my liking DT so much worse.
I’m happy for him, especially because he is excelling in school and finding a way to maintain a life outside of the rigorous demands we are all suffering through. Still, I wonder when the influence of my parents’ actions will stop effecting my emotional life.
Learning a man is taken is not a turn off. If anything, it makes me want him more. And then my brain tumbles down a path of intentional avoidance to try to mitigate the eventual hurt that is to, or will, come if I keep this wonderful person in my life. It’s like an early response system to try to stop me from making the same mistake my mother made so many years ago: falling for a man she could never truly have.
So, I’m keeping DT at arm’s length, and trying to not think about how much I want him.
I had sex with Community Boyfriend this weekend. It wasn’t planned at all. I went into my first kinky camp in 2.5 yrs with little to no expectations. I wanted to see my friends. I wanted to be naked in the woods. Those things alone made the 20 hr round trip car ride worth it.
On a whim, I asked CB for a cuddle date. The weather afforded us naked cuddles on one of the mattresses in the Sexy Times area (a geodesic dome covered in white cloth, lined with string lights, and featuring a comfy carpeted floor).
CB and I have cuddled before. We have this knack for small enjoyable movements as we lay together: fingernails across the back, head and neck massages, small delicate kisses here or there.
As we laid together, I thought about how lucky I was to have so many good friends in my life. I thought about how happy I was to be near them, to have a community, loving and welcoming whenever I can make it back. And I marveled that, whereas I am touch starved in school, I was now full of oxytocin feels with my friend.
We shifted here or there depending on which limb was numb. Eventually, he laid his head on my chest as I stroked his short hair. He then asked if he could suck on my nipples. We hadn’t negotiated this, but I am not one to turn down such an enjoyable gesture. And soon, my engine was revved up.
“I didn’t plan to have sex with you, but do you want to have
sex?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said.
Condom on. Chux laid down. And then there we were, fucking in the woods. He remarked how he missed me, how much he loved my sounds and my facial expressions, and how happy he was that I was able to come to camp. I moaned and giggled and screamed to my little slut’s content. I was so thankful for my hot sexy married polyamorous sweet fuck-buddy friend.
When I had to leave camp early, because school, I took a moment outside my car and said a little prayer thanking God for my experience: for love, community, and healing, for cuddles and kisses and orgasms, for the amazing life he had allowed me with all the good and bad in between.
I’ve liked Gunner since I met him as a new medical student; he was my tutor.
Gunner is now a member of my class (he took a year off), and now when interacting with him it is both awesome and weird.
We talk as true equals. We are in the same educational situation and we relate in this new way. But I also have those old feelings that I have for every attractive male that has some modicum of authority over me. The school girl thing never goes away.
Also, and you could have already predicted this, Gunner is engaged. It’s like I have an unconscious slutty sixth sense about this shit.
From Brain Twin to DT, from Gunner to Gent: whether I know it or not, if I am attracted to a man, he is mostly likely already married, engaged, has a girlfriend, or is gay. (The last being the least common of all choices.) And it’s just a matter of time before I find out which category each new man falls into, and my small spark of hope for a partner is dashed, again, for the fifty-leven-billionth time.
Your girl wants a boy so so bad, but these boys ain’t been wanting me.
Lips is in Germany. He’s Army, so that’s how that goes. I’m just glad we had our one night before he had to leave.
One day, I may get around to all the lovely details of our (almost) birthday sex.
Or I may just leave those wonderful memories in my brain.
Either way, even though it was just one night, he was totally worth it.
Sometimes, when I’m not even meaning to, I think about Gent.
More accurately, I fantasize about him visiting me. About him fucking me.
He’ll be waiting at the front door of my apartment. We dash up to my room and ravish each other.
Or he’ll find me studying, and we quietly fuck so no one close by can hear us.
A kiss on the neck. Fingers through the hair. The little gestures I want, I miss.
It’s never intentional. In fact, I try not to think about him, even when I masturbate.
I try not to hope for things I know I can’t have.
But somehow, this man that I know can’t be mine is always on my mind.
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