This one has really descriptive sex.. skip it if you’d rather not read that. 🙂 Thanks!
I filed my divorce papers yesterday. After I filed I went to the nearest coffee shop, feeling like lead. Ironically it’s the coffee shop where I met Traveler. I sat where he stood way back then, just for a bit. Traveler’s Wife, Quinky Girl, and I texted a bit and she said she’d meet me for a drink. Cleveland and I had a date that night, but I took her up on it and met her at a local place. By the time I got there I felt a lot better. I keep vacillating. It’s been months and months, so part of me is glad to have it wrapping up. I’m relieved it’s finally resolving. I’m excited about my new place and I feel like I’m finally really starting over, not just camping and sitting in shock.
But I also feel phenomenally stupid. I feel like a failure. Useless. Thrown away. I don’t understand and I can’t understand. I want there to be a neat reason for it and there just isn’t. The entire time he has been lying and changing his story.
I don’t know what happened and the more I think about that the more I feel something tear. Why was he so cruel? How could he be with me all those years and think the things he thought and said about me? Did he even believe them? Was it just an excuse? He said them to RollerGirl too later, when she became the bad Madonna and another girl the Whore. He lied to her as much as he lied to me. He’s lying to the dog walker too. Lies lies lies.
Quinky Girl’s very presence was a balm. I keep having to remember it doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t make sense. And life is like that. We talked about honesty and relationships before Traveler and Cleveland arrived. When Traveler came she asked him to sit with me and give me snuggles because it’d been an eventful day. I kissed her face for her generosity. We had a good dinner and some laughs. Cleveland arrived in time for happy hour tacos too.
Cleveland and I went back to my place, and out of the restaurant my weirdness was more evident to me. I just felt off. We went back to my place and got comfortable and I asked him to snuggle with me. Seconds in to snuggling with him, I felt whatever I’d held back all day bubbling up I fought it briefly and then I cried wracking tears. He held me and the storm passed in a few minutes. I felt awful for “ruining” our date. I felt terrible for splashing him with this, and I was grateful he was there. As soon as it came it abated and I wiped my face and blew my nose and we both laughed. I snuggled back into him and he rubbed my back comfortingly.
His comforting touch woke something. We began kissing. Quickly we were rubbing each other, entwining and writhing. Our hands were in each others hair, and on our skin, our throats, our sides and backs and our legs. Our legs were interlocked, our bodies pressing tightly tightly tightly. My breath and his were ragged. I wanted to feel that. I wanted to escape, but then it kind of changed. I wanted just him. All of these feelings for him welled up. The voracious need spun everything. I needed him inside me. I wanted inside of him. Our fingers digging, begging each other, shedding our clothes. I was on top of him quickly, moving like possessed thing, my pussy against him and his cock hard between us. I was so wet I could feel it running where I pressed against him. I wanted to just slide him into me. I sat up and ground against his body, wanting to pause for nothing, madly grabbing a condom from the nightstand and throwing it on the bed next to us without breaking contact. I could feel myself ready to come from kissing him, moving against him. I can’t remember ever being so wet. He opened the condom packet so quickly, but not quickly enough.. I slid down and in a single motion and swallowed his cock to the hilt, hungry. He threw his head back and paused, letting me greedily suck him before pushing me off just long enough to get the condom on and tell me “fuck me…please”. I needed no convincing.
I started to come the second he entered me, as wracking as my sobs had been. I felt dizzy and drunk but also so present, in every move and in every breath, his and mine. I loved him so much. I loved him for all the things I love about him. My hands were on his chest, digging as I rode him and his hips met me. I never never never wanted to stop fucking him. I rolled and pulled him on top of me and he fucked me hard, kissing me, breathing with me. As I flooded again, tensing and releasing and tensing and releasing, beginning to come in waves, he told me he loved me. He gasped in time to his thrusts, breathing “I love you. I love you”. I kissed him while panting, saying parts of I love you repeatedly as I came and came and came, rolling in waves, soaking us both. I held him tightly to me and kissed him as he exclaimed into my mouth, coming. It was pure physicality and pure emotion and connection. I giggled then, at the roller coaster I was, so grateful, so grateful. We snuggled a while, talking and touching till I wanted to show him something and we each grabbed our computers. We talked and pet and relaxed and posted Quinky’s podcast and looked at Craigslist couches and industrial furniture and his wife’s resume. We just hung out together, naked and sated, on our laptops side by side and our bodies always touching. When he left to go home I finished posting the podcast and the links, and texted briefly with Traveler.
He asked how the rest of my night had been and I told him it had been wonderful. He was laying in his own bed, and me in mine. Quinky Girl was out on a date. He was snuggling cats and talking to me on his phone and I was on my laptop in bed. Both of us were sleepy. We talked a little about my ambivilence about my divorce, and a little about Game of Thrones Season Three coming. I asked him if we could have a cuddle marathon Game of Thrones date. We’d watched all of Season 2 and some of Season 1 that way. I can think of few ways I’d like to spend a lazy day than pretzeled with him, watching Game of Thrones. He seemed as excited about it as I was. We said our sleepy good-nights and I curled up in my sheets that smelled like Cleveland.
Cleveland texted me to let me know he was home safely and I set my alarms and snuggled in further to my bed. I felt a little bruised, but warm and loved too. I was languid from the passion and love with Cleveland and I daydreamed a little about driving to Traveler’s house and crawling in his bed with him. I thought of Quinky Girl on her date and pictured her bliss at that moment and smiled. I could imagine her and her boyfriend wrapped up together somewhere. I thought about today and getting to see Boss, even if it’s just for a computer thing. I thought about the rest of my week. I thought about my new place and the cool possibilities.
I wrapped myself in Cleveland’s scent and feel asleep watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Can ambivalent mean feeling more than two things at once?