It’s been over a year and a half since I last tasted his lips or felt his strong hands all over my body. Once in a while memories of our adventures seep into my consciousness and paralyze me with arousal. You’d think we just had each other yesterday. I can close my eyes and still see his deep chocolate skin glistening with sweat. I can still feel his plump lips all over my neck. I can still feel the warmth of his hands. I can still smell him. If you have never had that sexual partner who you could do any and everything with, with no hesitation, you haven’t really lived. I wish for all of you to have that at least once.
I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He’s a few years older than me. I always wanted him. As a young girl, in no other way than just to say he was mine. As I got older, the fantasies surrounding him matured too. When we ran into each other that day, all of those feelings, the crush, the fantasies, they all came rushing back. We stayed in touch. I was involved with someone, he wasn’t. It was innocent for a while. When my situation became toxic, he was still there. He didn’t encourage me to cheat, he didn’t lure me away. He simply posed a better option. I fought it for a while, and then one day I let myself just imagine it. That was my mistake. The moment that I allowed those thoughts to develop and become vivid, there was no turning back.
He didn’t disappoint.
Each time that we experienced each other we were doing something wrong, something that we weren’t supposed to be doing. I was cheating, and he was an accomplice. I knew each time I lied and escaped for a weekend to be with him that I was wrong. I was so far gone in my relationship and what he and I created was so amazing, I didn’t even care. I was a cheater, but I was also satisfied. I was also happy in those moments. Way happier than I had been at home with Him (my then boyfriend) for months. What we had was so complicated; it’s been difficult to explain since its inception.
We talked, but it was mostly about my terrible situation and making plans to see each other. We wouldn’t talk much when we were together. Clothes were being ripped off within the first five minutes. Words weren’t really exchanged after. I rolled over one way and he rolled over the other. We didn’t hold each other. I’d get up, get dressed and head home the next day. No hard feelings, in fact, no feelings. I think that was the strangest part. I’m more than capable of just having a physical relationship. I just wanted him so badly for so long, I just knew that I would eventually catch feelings. But I didn’t. I tried to force myself. But I couldn’t. I didn’t spend too much time dwelling on this. He served his purpose. After all, I was still in my situation. 80% of the time I was with Him, although my heart was in limbo. The other 20% of the time I was in someone else’s bed, tangled in someone else’s lust, in someone else’s arm, I was someone else’s fantasy. And I loved it.
I don’t think a man has ever craved my body the way that he did. I have never been praised and pampered, the way that he praised and pampered me. He loved every inch of me, every ounce of me. He loved my body in ways that you only read about in books and see in movies. It was surreal, it’s still surreal for me. He wasn’t afraid to tell me how badly he wanted me. He wasn’t afraid to take control of me. He picked me up and held me down, he pulled my hair, he bit my neck, and he sucked all ten of my toes and licked crevices on my body that have never been touched by another person.
I was drowning in my relationship; I was dying as each day passed. When I was with him, he breathed life into me. He reminded me that I’m beautiful. He reminded me that I’m sexy. He showed me that there was more out there than the situation that I chose to remain in. Opposites truly attract. He was something that I wasn’t used to. He was attentive. He was vocal. He was strong and masculine, yet gentle. He wanted to play music and light candles. He wanted to run me a bath and join me. He wanted to massage me and arouse me. He wanted me to climax as many times and in as many ways as my body could stand. And then there’s me. The stuff he was into was just something for the movies; I liked real, raw sex. Ravage my body. Take me here and now. Pull my hair and restrain me. He forced me to explore the other side. He taught me to slow it down and appreciate the small moments. We attacked all of the usual positions and scenarios and then ventured to discover new ways to have each other.
I loved each and every moment of our time together. I fell in love with his sex. I just couldn’t see myself falling in love with him. That’s what tripped me out. We were so incredibly compatible; we were so amazingly in tune. Yet, the moment we were standing up, clothed, and with the lights on- everything that we built laying down just seemed to crumble. We were two strangers in the light, but our bodies were soul mates in the dark. How is that possible? I wracked my brain trying to make sense of it. I tried to force feelings, I tried to force more, but it just didn’t click. We just didn’t click. I wanted more than orgasms and moans, and that was all he could give me. I was able to appreciate our moments but I knew I wanted more. He’s smart. Has a job. Two degrees. Tall, chocolate and muscular. Funny. Sweet. Caring. Considerate. Firm. All of the things I love in men and would look for in a partner. Our spirits just weren’t for each other.
I was confused for a long time, but then I just learned to accept it. What we had was all it was meant to be. A stich in time. Memories that will never be forgotten. A story to tell. The reason why I sometimes clinch my thighs and close my eyes. I see him smiling in pictures with her and I feel no ill feelings. I’m in my (new)relationship, I am happy and satisfied. He appears to be happy. She appears to be happy. All is well. I’m glad that I had him in that space and time. He made me feel ways that some women will never experience. For that, I’m lucky and I’m grateful. I’ve learned to accept that our paths no longer coincide. So, I’m left with flashbacks and memories… and I’m okay with that.