Pretty Lies Vol. II

She offers to pick up **** and/or wine on her way over.
My kind of girl.
I make dinner while she sits on the counter and sips wine.
I only have one wine glass to use but sharing seems appropriate.

We idly talk and as I cook I feel her eyes rove over me.
I catch her furtively taking a picture of me and she laughs.
She says she needs one for later.
I ask if she'll show her friends and she says of course, she wants to brag.

I take her small waist in my hands and we kiss as she wraps her legs around me.
We eat, relax, and kill the bottle of wine quickly but it's enough to spread the slow, warm, haze and we opt to avoid going out in the cold for more spirits or otherwise

She asks me what I want and I tell her I want to be inside of her.
She says I can have what I want.
She stands up on my loveseat and semi jumps into my arms. I carry her into the bedroom.
She puts up some resistance but while she gags herself on my dick, I begin to finger her and moments later he underwear is coming off frantically and she's pulling me on top of her.
Though she is incredibly tight we have marathon sex, she comes on my dick repeatedly, and implores me to finish inside of her.

We get **** and sleep for what feels like ages at the bottom of an ocean of food, wine, good company, and ****.

I wake up for the 2nd time this week with the same dark-haired waif and her hair curled up in my bed sleeping softly, her warm body pressed up against mine. I see her eyes flutter and open, a smile spread slowly across her face......
I'm sure there are other things in life....but this one thing remains by far one one of my favorites.
It is my Christmas morning if there ever was one for a man who does not ascribe to nor believe in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

I don't consider how I'm recreating a moment long lost to me from days before I was to be married....the last time I saw her. I remember standing in the doorway, wanting to stay and hide and never leave....b/c I had this sense....that once I left....she would be gone to me forever. And like I always am with these things...I was right.
But as it is, I don't think these thoughts at this moment, and rather appreciate this new phase of my education.

I look to my phone to see how late for work I am and see her thong draped across my boxer-briefs next to the **** and my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray on the floor. Fitting and appropriate in a plethora of ways.

I sip my coffee and listen to Marilyn Manson's "Running to the Edge of the World" on my way to work amidst the heavy traffic that neither bothers nor affects me.
Unavoidably, I see that she is falling fucking hopelessly hard for your humble narrator.
I see the fragility in her eyes. The pleading hope that I will not hurt her.
That mix of hope and certainty swirling in her ***** eyes....that I have seen so many times it feels expected when it does occur. With years of practice I hide the part of me that knows this will inexorably be followed by my hurting her because this must occur on this timeline of our romance.
All she sees are my **** eyes thoughtfully looking back into her.
This exists before the disappointment, the heartbreak, and the tears begin to stream as they always will.
I appreciate the moment as a man with his last meal. I will devour her and her emotions.
This moment though it may repeat for a time....it will give way to expectation, argument, and likely infidelity.
It always does.

The clock is ticking as it must.
For a time, the dark passenger feels absent or at least placated.
I take solace in this momentary reprieve and sit at my desk, sipping warm coffee, with the calm relaxation of new sex still clinging to me.

The weekend promises much debauchery as I'm slated to head out of town for some mind expanding activities. Now that I've met someone, I'm sure some other girls will come out of the woodwork. The silent call will spread as it always does b/c women want a wanted man.

Good luck and happy hunting.
      - Yrs. in Christ