“I’ve got plans for us for the next ten years,” he says. The moment he heard it, he stuttered: “I mean, huh, I’ve got so many plans… so many ideas, I mean, that it would take us ten years to carry them out.”
It’s a peculiar bromance, this. I can see it going somewhere, but after the non-conversation about love, I feel we may have missed the boat. The more casual this seems, the more comfortable he appears to be. Is that what I wanted? I didn’t want anything but a friend, so everything I get feels like an an extra.
Being with him fills me with energy. I feel we could, yes, do anything and everything.
Today we’ve met halfway, in the middle of nowhere, in a business area. The minimalistic two room suite has a floor to ceiling mirror. I glance sideways at my figure, kneeling on the floor while he fucks my throat. He looks like a greek god from one of those gay fanzines I’ve had since I was little. I look small in comparison, and hey, I’m not that small.
I’m discovering that with him sex is painfully awesome, although it’s hard for me to be the passive one. I’m normally the one on top. Never had complaints, but he he hurts when I fuck him like that. I’m learning to let go and let him guide. He’d make such a good dominant if he faced that yes, he enjoys controlling everything.
Good friends share their porn so I’ve got an idea of what he likes. As he shoots on my face and tongue, I swallow, and a drop falls by my upper lip. He chases it with his thumb, so I can swallow it too.
“Here, you’ve missed this bit,” he says.