Leading up to my supposed date with the Stud last night, he had been a little standoffish when trying to nail down a time. On Friday, I asked him what the plan would be. He said it was up to me. I asked if he still wanted to come to my town. He said it didn’t matter to him. I asked if he wanted to do dinner, drinks, or both. He said he was a little tight in finances. I told him not to worry, and he said ‘okido.’ No one ever says that word. Something felt off, and I was getting a little anxious. Then last night by seven, I had still not heard from him. I was frustrated, and even more when he said he wouldn’t get here before nine when I texted him. I felt like I was being squeezed in.
I ended up having to rush getting dressed and all, but was pretty happy with the result. I went to pick him up from the train station, and he was perfectly happy and good looking as usual. We quickly made our way to a bar and talked as if we hadn’t seen each other in years. My strategy for the night was to not remind him of any trains going home. I was just going to let time pass, not say anything and if he’d missed his train, oh how unfortunate. He told me he had come from his family who had grilled him when he’d told them he was coming here. What’s there? Well, Ella. Who’s Ella? Are you staying the night? I guess I am taking it as a positive thing his family knows about me now, though I don’t know what he’s told them.
We once again touched the subject of dating when he said that after his weekend of sailing two weeks ago, he had visited the one other girl he was still in touch with besides me. She lives on the other side of the country and since he had to be there, he took the opportunity to go see her, and also mentioned he spent the night. My mind raced a little at this point. The odds of course say that he slept with her. I didn’t know how I felt about that. Well, I did. Why her, and not me? I had looked her up before. He’d mentioned her name a few times, and she’s on his Facebook list. She is the polar opposite of me. Black hair, tan skin, perfect make-up, and curvy. I didn’t ask him what he wanted from her or me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
By the time he pulled out his phone to look at the time, it was one o’clock, and quite a few more drinks later. He said he didn’t know if he was going to get home. I told him to stay with me, to which I got a yay. Must have been his plan already. We had a last drink, and headed home. He was a little more touchy-feely than I know him to be (or maybe, once again I am reading too much into this) but since he had mentioned his other friend and I was all too aware of his resistance to casual sex and commitment, did not think anything of it. Just in case I got the signals wrong, I didn’t want to embarrass myself or him either.
Back at mine we have a last drink before we head to the bedroom. He used my toothbrush, saying his mouth has been at weirder places on me with a grin, and we unceremoniously get changed for bed. He had mentioned his sore back a few times, and I’d seen him wiggle around during the night. I offer to massage and try to loosen him up a bit, and he happily accepts. I stop before he falls asleep, and lie back down.We talk for a bit, with him stroking my arm, and then he mentions that it’s been a while since we’ve shared a bed. Yes, two and a half months to be exact. At this point, call me oblivious, I am still think we’re being perfectly platonic. He doesn’t want me like that after all. While I had hoped he’d come back home with me, I had not thought sex was in the cards, I would have been perfectly satisfied to have just spent more time with him. But when I switch off the bedside light, he doesn’t hesitate.
We make out for a long time while our hands just roam around as if it were all new. Because of his back I end up doing most of the heavy lifting, but he manages to make me come twice with his fingers. I suck him until he’s hard, scramble around for a condom and get to work. We closed my windows because of the neighbors and my squeaky bed, and it’s warm in the room. We’re both sweating, and the sheets are clammy. I love it. Means the sex is dirty. He doesn’t come though, and even after we switch around, he admits that it’s not happening. Oh well. Beers, pressure, busy day, who knows. He wraps his arms and legs around me, and we both fall asleep pretty quickly. It’s four thirty.
I wake up a few times, gently shove him once to make him stop snoring, and we both lazily whisper good mornings by nine o’clock. We drift in and out of sleep for the next hour, and I wake up again when his fingers draw up and down my back. After a while, he moves on top of me, and we lazily make out. I love being squished. Eventually he sucks and bites his way down, and spends a glorious amount of time eating me out. After I come he doesn’t stop, and my legs are shaky when a second orgasm hits. We switch, and I do the same for him. He plays with my hair while he moans and groans, and I can’t help but smile a little. It turns me on. He doesn’t warn me when he comes, but I can feel it, and take it all. I find out he doesn’t care about tasting himself, and we happily kiss and hug while coming down from the high. We get up at around eleven thirty, take turns in the shower, and have breakfast. It’s comfortable. I take him to the train station to go home an hour later, and we say our goodbyes.
That was definitely more than I bargained for, in the best way possible. As corny as it sounds, it was perfect. Everything worked, and it was one of those nights where there’s just a connection and you want human contact. When he’s gone, I go through my usual hour or two of feeling conflicted and sad, and call my friend.
We did not talk about the current situation. I do not think this night changed anything for him. It was a natural progression and we both wanted it. It just worked out that way. I don’t know if he likes me that way. Yes, he likes me as a person and thinks I’m hot, but I don’t think he has changed his mind about his situation. It confuses me at some point. He tells me one thing but his actions say another. If casual sex makes him unhappy, as he has mentioned, then why did he do this? Where does this other woman stand? I think one of the reasons he has stayed in touch with me (apart from regular liking me) is the fact I have not been nagging him about the whole thing.
I’m not sure if we should even talk about last night. I shouldn’t even been thinking about it so much, because I should be clear on the situation. But well, I’m a girl. Though I do think, should this happen again, maybe it is time for the both of us to re-evaluate. I will see him again, he’s said so, so we’ll have to see how that goes. I know I cannot do this forever. I can do the casual sex thing if I am not into someone, but I am into him, and he must know that somewhere inside.