The New Guy, part 2

Now what, indeed?

Atlas and I had a conversation about our expectations.  We both admitted to knowing the rules, not exceeding or breaking them.  We both knew how the game was played.  We weren't going to get caught up.  I didn't want to fall in love, he wasn't available. My world was too precariously balanced to have someone akin to Loki wreaking havoc.  He leaves for Asia in the fall.  It seemed that we understood each other perfectly.  We would have no strings attached fun with each other, that seemed reasonable.

When adding a new lover to the roster, I'm usually very open and honest with Satan.  I know he doesn't like talking about it, doesn't particularly like knowing that I've taken pleasure with another man besides him.  But he is practical enough to understand that waiting on him to be available these days is like waiting for a tax refund.  Agonizing.  My going catch-phrase; "What's good for the goose is good for the gander", are words that make him roll his eyes and say "Whateva".  But the truth remains that after our reunion last year, I made it clear that I was not going to sit on a shelf and wait for him.  I'd see him when I see him, but not let anyone touch my heart.  Somehow, I knew Atlas was different.  I haven't told Satan about him.  I don't want to have that discussion until I have to.  Satan senses it, he's just that intuitive.  He senses my distraction, and I find him calling and texting me to ask where I am, what am I doing.

So where am I and what am I doing?  The answer is I have no idea. 

Atlas and I made plans to meet for a day to have relaxed time together.  Time to ask silly questions to get to know each other.  Time to play with each other without interruption or an audience.  Time to just.....chill.  I found myself extremely nervous the day before, fussing over my clothes and my choice of toenail color.  I was taking extra care with my grooming, even working on my legendary crusty feet to tame them down to simply dry instead of lethal.  Texting him during this furor, I told him it was way easier when I didn't give a shit what he thought.  Yet somehow, I did care what he thought.  I needed to make a good impression so that he liked what he saw.  I felt shy, and a bit discombobulated, and all I knew was that I had to be.....amazing. It was incredibly girly, and as anyone who knows me will say, I hate girly moments with a passion.

After seeing to my errands and finally getting on the road, I received a call from Jachin.  He wanted to know where I was going, who I was seeing, and how long I expected to be out.  I told him I wasn't worried, and he commented "Of course you're not, that's my job".  He was unhappy I was meeting "strange men" and told me I should never go out without telling someone where to find me.  I met him at the rest stop, he gave me money for tolls, I told him where I'd be, and I was off again.  Another conundrum for a different day.

The rain slowed my progress, and I arrived after Atlas did.  I had been so nervous in the morning that I wasn't feeling good, and my stomach was in a knot for most of the drive.  I was concerned that my stomach ache might translate into some unpleasantness, so I didn't eat, I just drank some Crystal Light.  He texted me the room number, and I parked next to him.  I took a moment to just breathe.......

I knocked, he answered...and promptly slammed the door on me.  LOL, ahh it was going to be that kind of day. With his humor, he disarmed me and put me at instant ease.  I brought my bags in, and as I watched him work on his laptop, knowing he had a business call in a few, I took out my laptop and prepared to amuse myself while he worked.  We chatted a bit, and we laughed.  Of all the memories I will carry about him in my life, it will be how much we laughed.  I slyly looked at him over my computer screen.  I find him so beautiful.  His body is in amazing shape, and he has eyes that really look at you when you talk to him.  I can't imagine any woman NOT finding him crazy hot.  I have also found that he is a man that does not say things he doesn't mean.  So far, I find that he says what he means, and means what he says.  He doesn't grandstand, doesn't need to talk endlessly just to hear himself.  He is a careful listener, and he is even more careful at replying, knowing his feedback may not always be rosebuds and unicorns, as he is at heart, a realist.

He climbed onto the bed with me, in a side 69 position, my back to his front, and he stroked his hands up my legs, under my dress, to a pantyless me, which he had requested. His hands, gentle and soft, finding spots front and back that had me panting.  He got to stroking me in earnest and I came for him, almost as though his quiet confidence had simply commanded it without words, and it came into being.  I came and squirted, and he got naked too.  He just stopped playing, it was time for his business call.  I lay at the end of the bed crosswise, while he lounged against the pillows, naked.  As he entered his conference call, I looked at him, looked at his cock, and did the chin up inquiry move. He silently shrugged as if to say, why not?  So I promptly moved between his legs and sucked his cock.

His skin is so velvety smooth, we joke that he feels like kitten paws.  I so love feeling him grow in my mouth, and feeling his gentle yet insistent hand on my head encouraging me to press my lips against his body while his cock goes down my throat and I swallow him.  It excited me to do these things to him while he was conducting business.  And my beast rose with every intention of shattering his self control, except we failed, as he is an incredible challenge to ruffle.  Earpiece intact, he swung himself behind me and fucked me until I squirted on his cock.  Not being able to be vocal during sex is challenging for me, and it heightened the pleasure to an almost painful degree.    He must have sat back and watched me trying to stifle my noise, chuckling, and I heard him say, "Oh, I hung up my call a bit ago, you can make noise now."  BASTARD!!!

Going into detail about the rest of the afternoon seems redundant.  It was a beautiful dream, laced with passionate kisses, ecstasy, and lots and lots of my body fluid.  I lost track of the number of times that I came, just enjoying each small eruption of pleasure as it's own fantastic gift.  I realized that i couldn't do this with him on a regular basis and remain casual. I told him so in an effort to be honest.  He inspired an intensity in me that was difficult to ignore.  It felt like it welled up in my core, and wanted to spew out of my mouth in the form of pretty words and promises. I would not be the conqueror, as I had insinuated in emails to him...I would be the conquered.

He moves me in ways I haven't thought about in a long time.  He makes me feel a little less lonely inside. He makes me want to see what he does during his days, how he walks through the door, how he organizes his kitchen.  He makes me think of long lazy days off spent lounging in bed. He makes me think about walks along the shore talking about everything.  He reeks of the word companion, not simply fuck buddy.  He makes me realize, in the grand scheme of things that I have something I hadn't believed in for a long time....options.

It's been a few days now.  The intensity has started to dissipate, and life in it's routine has re-intruded on my fantasy.  I still text him daily, and am still wondering what the hell happened.  He's made some statements to me that make me wonder what he's about and what it is that he actually wants, and I realize I've spent so much time listening to the double speak of Satan and Jachin that I no longer know how to take someone at their word without copious positive reinforcement about said statements.  I wonder about the men in my life, how I love them, what their role in my life really is. I've been thinking about what I really want, from everyone.

I treasure and value being excited by a man like this again.  It has ignited a fire in me that has been dormant for a long time.  Though I love all the men that play a role in my life, I have worked diligently to kill the penchant for expectation.  If I don't expect anything, ever, I will never be disappointed.  Ergo, I gave up the fire to wish for more.  Perhaps the biggest turn on this man presents to me is that I don't merely look upon him as a tool.  He is more in the great grand scheme than just a guy looking to get his rocks off with little regard to how he does it.  He's discerning, he's picky, he's artful.  And here's the clincher...I'll say it.  He makes me feel like I'm enough to satisfy him.  True or not, I'll think of him fondly for a long time for making me feel that again.  Sharing is fine, but once in a while, it just feels good to be enough for someone.  And I thank him for reminding me that I have the right to expect it, should I choose to.

Where am I and what am I doing?

I still haven't figured it out, and I'm not going to try right now.  I prefer to take the ride and see how the road goes.  Hopefully I'll enjoy the journey, and remember a few more things about who I am and what I have a right to want.

Change, part 2

The thing with finally talking to someone you've shut out of your life for awhile is that all that angst, all the rage, all the worry and sadness have an outlet.  They get channeled to the person on the other end of the conversation and suddenly two people who were raging at each other, who were nose to nose figuratively speaking, are suddenly tired.  Exhausted.  And curious.

So Satan and I had conversations.  He letting out his vitriol in emails, me letting the pounding surf of his anger crash against me until he was just done.  And then, in my quiet way, I raged back until I couldn't rage anymore.  Slowly, so slowly....those conversations stopped being about us hating, and started being about us just talking.  We'd have careful talks about our lives, friends, family, and how we were.  Careful talks that never said anything meaningful, and never talked about sex.  Boring talks.  Talks about how he was going to leave Maine and move to Boston.

One day out and about in Portland, I decided I couldn't let him leave the state without having the courage to say goodbye.  I had to pee like the dickens, and though I could have stopped anywhere, I called him and asked if I could use his bathroom.  He said yes, that he was packing, and that I was welcome.  I went, and seeing him in person was like a physical blow to the gut.  So beautiful, and so untouchable now.  We sat in his room as he folded and packed his pants, and sneakers.  And we talked about things I can't even remember now.  I stayed a bit, but had to get home for my daughter.  I let him know I had to scoot, and he walked me down to the door.  I remember turning back and trying to say...something, but failing to find the words.  He let me off the hook then, and just moved in, held my face in both his hands, and kissed me softly.  My eyes watered, and fat tears slid down my cheeks knowing he was leaving, and I bolted.

Seeing him, smelling him on every level that a mate scents her male was vicious.  My beast, which had been roaring already, went ballistic.  It was a physical pain inside me screaming for release.  Like a shape shifter that can't actually change to let her beast out, so mine was clawing against my innards.  I hosted a party and played with a boatload of men, each one merely ramping up my need to release another notch, and nothing coming even CLOSE to the level of release that I needed.  Every orgasm I gave myself just made me more frustrated.  Nothing, it seemed, could calm the beast.

Jachin and I, during this time, had resumed sexual relations.  His growing concern for my inability to feed my beast led him to volunteer his services in attempting to fill the role.  Scared he wouldn't last, he took a pill, or two.  He fucked me until he came like a rutting beast, and then continued to try and fuck me with his hand.  But his heart, literally, couldn't take it and we had to stop and attend to him.  Realizing that The Beast was going to kill someone should I not adequately attend to her, I kept trying.  A few days later, after being teased by my pet endlessly that morning, I laid in my bed and tried to masturbate.  Jachin came by and sat in the bed with me trying to help.  I came, hard, but I could feel the tight coil inside knowing it hadn't been satisfied at all....it had merely gone up another notch.  Jachin tried to help me rub another one out, and I busted out crying, begging him not to touch me because it just got worse and worse.  Jachin, worried for real now, did the only thing he could think of.  He called Satan.

Keep in mind that since things ended badly between Satan and Jachin with the roommate situation, Jachin absolutely HATES Satan.  He has said that if he saw Satan on the side of the road riding his bike while he was driving, that he would swerve just enough to pick him off. Yet he was moved enough by his concern for me to call the one person he thought could solve the problem, regardless of the fact that it made him want to puke acid through the phone.  They made arrangements to bring Satan up to Maine that weekend, mid-May.

My pet drove down to pick up Satan.  He left around 11 in the morning, and I saw them drive in around 8:30 that night.  I was so pissed at the time warp it took to get from Massachusetts to Maine that I slammed my bedroom door in Satan's face.  He was in high spirits though, and wouldn't be deterred.  I felt as skittish as a colt, not knowing where to look, heart beating in palpitations, mouth open to breathe because I felt breathless.  He had that look in his eye, that his prey was target marked and locked.  He came to me and enveloped me in his massive hug, his lips descending to mine, not letting my nervousness make me bolt, or turn me into a shrew.  He took my hand and led me upstairs, to the spare bedroom we'd be using for the night.

He laid me on the bedroll on the floor, opened my thighs and settled his mouth on my quim.  And I could breathe again because my mate was home.  He licked my cream, lapped at me like I was nectar and sweet syrup. And he made these satisfied beast noises, grunts, and sighs, and small growls.  His hands roamed my body, clutching my thighs in a death grip, then gripping my tummy, holding my breasts.  He loves my rolls, loves to hold and squeeze them, sink his fingertips into my fluffiness.  He pushed me over my first small orgasm, and the coil unraveled, not to let me off the hook, but to perform as my master expects...with frenzy and abandon.

He climbed back up my body like the predator he is, lifted my legs up and back, and pressed his cock into my hole.  Slow, steady pressure moving all that dick inside me.  It was tight, it was beautiful, and my pussy contracted all around him.  He didn't stop pressing inward until the head of his cock had bumped my cervix.  Then he withdrew and slammed it home.  Again.  Again.  Again.....over and over until he triggered my spot, made the rain squirt out of my body.  It was so intense, that it overwhelmed me emotionally and all the rage I had carefully tucked away from him erupted.  I pummeled his chest repeatedly, screaming my hate out, releasing my anger and disappointment and hurling it at his body, which never missed a beat in fucking me to another orgasm.  Tired of being punched and hit, he grabbed my fists and lifted them over my head kissing my lips and sucking my neck while he continued that shattering rhythm.

Flipping me over to my knees, he opened up my ass for his pleasure.  He still had a hold of my hands, holding my wrists behind me while he fucked my ass and made me cum like a ban-sidhe.  I was filthy from his handiwork, and he had no qualms, and no mercy.  He demanded my submission, demanded I answer his age old question...."Who do you belong to?"  "NOBODY YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, I BELONG TO NO ONE. I AM ALONE"  He grabbed my hair then, hauling my ear up to his mouth "You are NOT alone, and you will ALWAYS belong to ME.  I will NEVER, EVER, let you go again."  He sank his teeth into the meat of my back, and roared out his release.  We both collapsed for a moment, he rolled me onto my back, and ate me some more.  By the whimper in my voice and the cadence of my noises, he knew I hadn't given him my big orgasm.  His hand crept between my thighs, and two fingers went into my pussy, stroking in there and hitting the trigger point. He was sweating like a madman, and fucking my pussy with his whole hand.  It bloomed then, like a white hot poker radiating in circles from my core to the tips of my fingers, and even after I fell limp, he pushed me towards the abyss again.  And just that quickly, I climbed to another peak, higher, more devastating, that destroyed me on every level.  I hated him, I loved him, I needed him.  And I thought briefly, could I just use him for sex?

Tucked into his body, held safe in his arms, I slept the sleep of the dead for the first time in many many months.  No bad memories, no regrets, no sadness, no emptiness, no.....beast.  At last and by the mercy of god, Lilith was sated, and quiet.

Spring Fling, Part 2

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