Thunnus albacares


Date number 7  … or is it date number 8?  I can’t count any more, but whatever the case may be it was yet another date with Dex.  After texting with him a few days this past week I got the subtle hints that he was putting out there that he wouldn’t mind seeing me.  He’s not the type to outright say things, and I’ve actually gotten a little better at reading between the lines.  But Wednesday I was exhausted from work, and Thursday from the gym.  So I  messaged him that night and asked if he would have free time this weekend.  He said he should, and wanted to know why.  So I told him ‘I figured I’d ask you on a date?’.

This pleased him.  So we made a sushi date for Friday.  We met up and had our fill of delicious food (I am still boggled by how much he ate, since it was at least double the amount I ate) and headed home, curling up on the couch and snuggling while watching some tv.  We both acknowledged we were pretty tired, so it wasn’t surprising to find him kissing my forehead and telling me to wake up and come to bed … at 10pm.  I made a joke about us being like an ‘old married couple’, which he didn’t get right away and seemed to cause a sense of panic.  I explained to him the premise  … Friday night, going to bed at 10pm, like old married people do.   Once he understood he didn’t seem quite so concerned, so I told him I was going to head home since I swore I wasn’t going to spend the night.  He asked why, and I explained how I spent so much time the last weekend with him that I thought it’d be better for me to go home.  He laughed, gave me a kiss and told me I was cute.   As I said again I should go home, he told me that he missed me, and he missed sleeping with me, so if he has the opportunity to do so he’s going to take it.

And thus I ended up getting dragged up to bed with him.

We had sex, and slept.

Woke up in the morning and had a stellar breakfast consisting of coffee with kahlua, and homemade banana bread with nutella.  We then spent some more time cuddling on the couch before having some more sex.  And then I went home.

So here’s the thing: the sex is amazing.  Absolutely.  Amazing.  And I don’t exaggerate or lie in the least when I say it’s some of the best I’ve had in my life.  While I can say that I’ve had multiple orgasms before, I can’t say that I have consistently had multiple orgasms with any partner I’ve had.  Not only does the boy have a memory made of superglue, but he also can read my reactions like a book and always remembers exactly how to recreate those sensations to get the reaction he wants.

Sometimes I wish I could say the same, being that I know that he enjoys my touch and my enthusiasm.  But I just can’t seem to get the same kind of reaction out of him that he so easily pulls out of me.  I understand that not all men are built alike, and while the slightest graze on the cock of one guy might set him off it could take hours of stroking to get a different one off.  He is definitely more of the latter, being that I usually leave his place sore.  Sore in the inner thighs, and sore in the arms.  It’s almost better than hitting the gym.  Or at least, it’s a more fun type of workout to experience.  But I just feel like it’s an unbalanced kind of exchange, and I told him as much.  His response was merely to nuzzle the back of my neck, kiss it softly, and pull me closer while rubbing himself against my back.

So hot.

I’ve come to the point of establishing that I like him, and he likes me.  We have great chemistry in the bedroom, and manage to function fine outside as well.  My usual hesitance at cuddling and lots of physical contact aren’t present with him, to the point that I actually miss the contact when he’s not around.  Sometimes I feel like I could spend time with him every day and be happy, but other times I like having some distance because it makes the time together much more exciting.  But I’m not sure if what we have is enough for the long run.  I’m trying to not obsess over this and just live in the moment, for which I’m generally successful.  But occasionally this worry creeps up since I’ve started to care for him.  I managed to get some talk time in with my sister tonight (a rare event with the arrival of the baby), and I mentioned this in conversation.  She provided me with the gem of insight in being that as time goes on, as you grow closer to a person, those periods of silence that at one point felt awkward actually start to become comfortable.  You realize you don’t have to be in constant communication in order to feel connected to someone.  Sometimes you’ll feel closest to them when you’re just there, and saying nothing.

When did my sister get so wise?  Probably when she had a baby.

Either way, it’s about 5 hours later and I’ll admit I miss the guy a bit.  And I’ll admit that’s normal, and to be expected, and I like that.

“You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.” – Indira Gandhi


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