Why do I have expectations? For something better, for someone to be different, for a chase at anything that isn’t this numbness I carry around? It’s not as if someone else could solve my issues, I’m facing that in a devastatingly drastic form. But it seems as though sometimes I can’t even tell when I’m on the rebound.
Heartache is fucking painful. Like soul crushing, bleeding internally, do the Mexican hat dance on my organs, kind of pain; except for it’s all internal and one of the biggest mind fucks of your life. It’s also the time when certain people walk into your life thinking they can rescue you. I’m not sure if it’s a fetish, a complex or ignorance, but in the end, it’s useless. They become your rebound and you’re stuck being a toy with emotions that they have the strings too.
Maybe that’s why I vowed to hold off this time. To pretend as though chasing after the impossible was actually possible. Abstaining from love and orgasms all at the same time. I gave him a few dates, testing the waters so to speak. I didn’t fuck him on the first date and I felt as though I had power. Power for control and change that someone else had been playing with for the longest time. But no matter how many times I tried, there just was something about him I couldn’t wrap my head around. Maybe it is was how he called me “duckie” or that he constantly thought getting me to talk about my life would give us a connection. Either way when I finally said fuck it and let him actually fuck me, it turned into being the biggest icebreaker into the world of sex and self control that I ever needed.
If there was ever a moment for a comedic porno movie this night would have won the AVN and Oscar. He wasn’t the best looking guy or even one that would be seen as my normal type, his belly made him look as if he was bending in two – backwards. The complexity of maneuvering around anatomy is always difficult, but add a few extra pounds and it starts to get compounded. As any person who has been sorely disappointed in the size of a guys family jewels this one took the cake. His did not reach past his belly and when he tried to be intimate to take the awkward hookup feel away, all he did was slide and miss.
Laying naked on the bed I felt like the stuffed animal my dog humps for dominance. No satisfaction only suffocation. He stood for a moment and leaned into me, we were both obviously frustrated. My first time back on the horse and I couldn’t even get in the saddle. I wasn’t a virgin, was he? I leaned up onto my elbows as sweat dripped down his face. To my surprise, his joystick was gone. As if he had magically removed it and placed in his back pocket.
Where did it go? Did he become flaccid that quickly? He turned to me, asking for help. “Talk dirty to me,” he said as he looked down. I’m not sure what his view was but from mine, there was more shock than stud in the moment for anything dirty to come to my mind. But I found my voice and a few select words to help him along.
“This isn’t working,” he said with frustration as he grabbed at his wand. “Just do me a favor,” he said as I reached up to help guide him. I was curious as to where this would go since everything else was disappearing. Would he ask me to leave? Would he tell me to get out? Instead, I sat there in complete shock as he said” just pull it out of my balls for me.”
His chances had ended, control was in my hands. I finished myself off that night and found my way back to a new beginning. He wanted to be a white knight for me, my heart broken, but instead of gluing it back together it became a mystery for two.
Melissa In Words 