I went and did it. I let the Unmarried Man get to me.
I fucked him again that next Tuesday. Drunk again (we met at a wine bar and got seriously wasted), but this time in my bedroom and not on a roof. Then we promised we’d be good. Then I gave him a ridiculous blowjob on his couch about twenty minutes before his girlfriend came home–I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted cum so sweet either. Then I met the live-in and she’s pretty nice…not my cup of tea personally but she’s cool or whatever.
Then there were more promises of being good, since we genuinely liked each other and wanted to be friends. We managed it somehow, and now I can barely imagine him fucking me missionary style between pristine cotton bedsheets much less bending me over a roof ledge and pumping his cock into my dripping pussy while he fingers my asshole…
Really I can’t.
No really! I can’t imagine it; the whole thing seems absurd. I’ve completely replaced him in my memory with someone else. Maybe it’s easy to do because he really could have been anyone else and I still would have done it. I mean, it was pretty awesome.
The whole thing messed with my head though. I felt ridiculously bad about it and have spent the last few months (yep, months) thinking about what I’ve done. At first I thought we were both horrible people. Then I thought the girlfriend was an idiot. Then I blamed their relationship and made myself out to be an innocent bystander who just happened to be horny at the right place at the right time.
Then I realized that was all bullshit. It happened. I don’t know the particulars of their relationship and neither of them seem keen on telling me. I don’t want to fuck him anymore, I just want to be nice and talk about video games and share goofy links on IM. I don’t have a lot of friends with whom I feel comfortable being myself and he definitely puts me at ease, even if I do get impatient with his flirting (with other women, not me or the girlfriend…the dog). I wouldn’t mind hugging sometimes, but now it’s all awkward, so I’ll just content myself with waving hello and goodbye when we see each other. And occasionally getting an apologetic drunken text message.
So it happened. Big deal. I felt bad. Oh well. What’s the point of putting myself through the misery? I made a mistake; so next time I’ll know that fucking someone else’s someone behind anyone’s back is not worth the guilt it causes me. Maybe this all comes naturally for some sluts, but I still have some things to learn so I’ll just chalk that one up to a lesson.
Here’s hoping my next lesson is way more fun and involves some sort of restraining device!
