Hello, Readers! (Those of you who have stuck with my story about The Closet Case, I sincerely thank you!). I am SO sorry for the lack of writing lately. Honestly, posting three three times a week is a very hard goal to do, though, that is no excuse for my week long drought. I was trying to tidy up my experience about The Closet Case in three short posts but alas our relationship was not that easy. The reason I decided to write about our relationship in the first place was because it really set up my current perspective on dating life. So I want to continue the series but not sell short the experiences. Thank you for continuing to read. Enjoy!
There once was a boy I always imagined being with. I saw him every day after school. The detour I took walking home was longer than the original path. He was always playing the guitar with a group of friends. They’d stand around outside a garage until retreating into the shade. I always waited on the outskirts with the sweat dripping down my nose, listening. Once they finished playing I untucked my shirt and pulled my pants below the hip. I wasn’t a cool kid like them but still wanted to be close.
I’d walk by very slowly until I spotted him. He was the one with long blonde hair. In the cool shadows of the garage he’d sit on an amp with a beer dangling in hand. I didn’t understand how someone could break the rules so easily. I knew he wasn’t twenty-one. My first instinct was to always run and tattle but I wouldn’t reach anyone fast enough. A couple of text books and binders would slow any kid down. So I kept walking until one day he spotted me.
We didn’t say hello. We couldn’t speak without someone noticing. Our two worlds were as far apart as a kid that drank beer illegally to the one that tattled on said rule breaker! I suddenly found myself wishing a Nirvana t-shirt on me even though I had no idea who they were. Anything that could make me appear cooler seemed like a good option to make visible next time. He kept watching me though until the end of the street.
In the shelter of my bedroom I thought about the blonde haired boy. He floated above my head while I laid down with my hands wrapped around myself. In my imagination we rolled around on a mattress naked, kissing. He’d hold my head until walking his hand down my belly. His back felt smooth like the whip cream I dipped my finger in on every sundae. I tasted his lips while he played with my private parts. There weren’t what he was used to. His fingers had to roll over me more than once to become familiar with the territory. So I kept taking the detour after school.
Years later, him and I were lying naked together on his bed. I couldn’t believe he was really there but on my belly was proof. A white wash of cum I had asked him to paint. It still felt sticky though no longer warm.
“You don’t have to go.” He said quietly. It was the first time I was invited to stay the night. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I was touched.
“You’re not worried?” I said, referring to his parents. I didn’t want to leave but I also didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. When I saw him shake his head in response I felt the corners of my mouth lift into the biggest smile.
Soon enough there he was between my legs with his lips on mine. Inside of me I felt “sex” but on the outside was his stare. The same one I saw on the detour home but this time our worlds were as close as could be. The wind from his mouth was the same one causing my heart to feel like a hurricane. It’s pulse was everywhere inside causing me to pant.
When it was all over I decided not to stay. I had a hefty load of college work to do back home. I told him that I’d be back the following evening before kissing him goodbye. If I had known that that was the last time I’d have any contact with him for three months I think I would have stayed…maybe.