Last summer I was angry at him. He left me out on my own for any number of reasons he felt were valid. They weren't, he knows it, I knew it then. So I do what I do, and retaliated with other men. I want to take his claim and shove it up his ass when I'm mad. I want to forget why I need him, why he is perfect for me in every way, and just flip him the bird and fuck any number of men in his stead. It amuses him because he knows damn well not one of them will satisfy me. Not one of them will give me the effort that is required, none will give out the effort that he gives me. But occasionally I will meet someone engaging, and for a little bit my attention will wander. I generally don't try to give out my affections blindly because I am careful who I decide to care for. People can be so fickle, in the end.
This summer, though....I met not one, but TWO men who engaged my fancy. One even captured a piece of my heart. And to sever and crack the bond with my Satan....it's painful. So to do it requires a commitment to change on my part and a willingness to put myself in pain. And not just myself, but Satan as well. He doesn't care when my body wanders from him, he knows he can have that any time. However, when my MIND begins to stray from him....when the tether he's placed on my soul suddenly feels invisible to him, he knows things have gone too far and he is beginning to lose me for real. And THAT he cannot abide.
I loved Rhavin. I had faith in him, and I trusted him. I thought...well, I supposed it doesn't matter what I thought or hoped or wished for. Because it was all in vain. My hope and faith were misplaced in a man who's affections change with the wind. And I grieved for a long time. I still do to some small extent. As for Atlas, well, time showed me the true nature of him. Not good or bad, really. Just cold.
Satan raged through all of this, as he of course found out not just from me, but from people who find it wonderful to report on my doings to him, whether out of concern or jealousy. He raged, and he was sad. He wanted the truth, or maybe he wanted a lie over what my reality was in the moment. I know he didn't want to hear I wasn't happy and wanted to move on. But he decided to give me space and let me do whatever was in my fluffy little head to do to purge whatever demons were currently haunting me. As the dust settled over the carnage I had wreaked over the summer time, I felt him tugging on the tether, reeling me back to him slowly, and I raged, and cried, and picked my way resentfully over the rubble. Always coming home to him, to my Satan.
I told him he was the worst kind of cruel. And make no mistake of any kind, Satan is a cruel man. He would take the knife himself and cut me if he thought it would teach me the lesson deeper and faster. He would do whatever evil is in his repertoire in order to get what he wanted. And what he wants is me. I am his heroin. His cruelty, however, is giving me all the slack I need on my tether to hang myself with, letting me gasp in my last breaths, and then drawing me back in the moments before I would die, only to do it all again. He is the ultimate manipulator. He is the master spider in his web.
Here's the thing about My Satan. I cannot imagine a time without him. I can't imagine a time before him, nor can I imagine a future that he isn't a part of. He is integral to me, as necessary as breathing in order for me to fully live as opposed to wandering around in a half life, severed from the very essence that animates me. In the now 7 years that we've done this dance, there has never been a day that I haven't been excited to hear his voice, or email, or text. Not one. And seeing him....HE is my smile incarnate. We've both aged, that gentle last bloom of youth leaving both of us. Yet he is still the most beautiful man I will ever see.
I have lived without him. In fact, we just spent the last year without any physical contact. A year without the sight or the feel of him and his "devil magic penis", or his silky velvet skin, or the hardness of his biceps, and the ripples of muscle in his back. A year without the scent of him in my nostrils, without the taste of him setting my mouth to water. A year....with only the sound of his voice, of his anger, his displeasure, his sadness, his resignation, and eventually....his hope. A year of listening to his longing. I told myself I was moving on. But really there wasn't ever a day that went by that didn't contain thoughts of him. I thought of his wit, of how he would react to any given situation. I thought of his warmth, especially on cold nights when the chill seemed to reach through the layers of quilts on the bed. I thought of his disdain for stupidity. And of course, through it all, I thought endlessly about our bedsport.
I think by this point it goes without saying that I love Satan. I love him beyond measure, and I am not happy living without him. I need him, because I am simply a better person when I am with him. I am stronger, I am beautiful, I am sensual, I am everything I dream of in a woman. And while I understand that I should be these things without him, and I'm sure on some level I still am to others.....He makes it real for ME. And he makes it so damn real, because it IS his reality. He. Loves. Me.
I love that he loves me both as a woman and as an animal. He understands, accepts, and nurtures my demon. He feeds all of my needs and desires, without judgement, and no matter what they are. He's not rich, it's not about money. He is beautiful, but I got over that as his attraction long ago. It's his inner workings, his intensity, his...WAY. I believe that we are all made for someone, and he fits me like a silk glove. He's not an easy man, and we fight. But somehow we're able to come to agreement more often than not. So why do I run away from him so much? Time.
Sometimes, he just has no time for me because of all of his other commitments, and I feel abandoned. And sometimes I just want to be the woman he takes care of. I am tired of having to be strong all on my own all of the time, waiting for the time when it will be our time together. I want to be his flower all of the time, not just once in a blue moon. Sometimes his words and his voice seem inadequate.
That is my intellect protesting. My beating heart knows better.
After being apart from him for a year, my first reunion with him was at a very small hotel party I hosted. My best girlfriends were there, and they were all eager to meet him, and not necessarily in a good way. Girlfriends are protective of each other, and they have seen me over the last year. They place much blame with him for any unhappiness I've experienced, same as I would for them if someone upset their world. I saw him, live and in living color for the first time in so, so long, and my face just crumpled into a smile. He enveloped me in his hug and he smelled of leather jacket, warm, virile man, and some vague cologne. He kissed me, softly, the pillows of his lips only barely teasing mine while we were in public. We went back to the hotel from the bus depot, and then scooted to the grocery store for some Tequila. It was going to be THAT kind of night. Back to the hotel, and we found ourselves doing shots, with my girl Kay pouring. It was a silly thing, and Satan cut me off after the 3rd shot, as I wouldn't be the one to bow out. He didn't want me trashed and unable to play. Ironically the shots got to him because he hadn't eaten. And he sat down, defeated. I knelt between his legs and just held him, and he drunkenly babbled "I just don't want to share you with anyone tonight, I just want you to myself. Is that wrong?" My answer? "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, ever." But we would both take care of our guests that night, and still manage to take unbelievable care of each other as well.
I used to think that when he and I were together people watched him. He's just so pretty, and, well, I'm just so plain. Apparently I was wrong, and Kay let me know it. After all her blustering about him, and her counsel to continue to try to move on from him, she simply said to me the next day..."I was wrong, and I get it now. I saw you with him, I saw him with you, and then I saw you two together, and it was a most beautiful thing. You became someone I hadn't seen in years. You were radiant, you glowed, and you had come into who you were...just that easily. You were truly happy.".
I have spent blog after blog chronicling our sexual escapades in minute detail, and I'm sure I will again. The feel of his beautiful cock leaving absolutely no part of my body untouched. Mating with him, feeling him enter me, fill me, claim me, devour me. I have skimmed over our issues, opting to focus on the sex. Him, my human dildo of a boyfriend as Jachin calls him. I don't know if I can ever adequately convey how powerfully he's claimed me, at the end of it all. I love him so much that some days I choke on it. He moves me, heart, body and soul. I told him today that I was bonded to him for this life and beyond, and he acknowledged that he understood that and agreed. This soul bond, it's inescapable. I can run, but I'll never leave him. Never. He is everything to me. Our issues remain, but he's changed over the years. He is not as intractable about solutions as he once was. He's willing to discuss our future, whenever that may be. What we both know is that we are addicted to each other, and there isn't a cure for what we are.
