I am sitting in bed, smelling of sex, and unhappy.
Not with the sex . . . the sex was really good. Well, the orgasms were really good. The sex was too brief. It had been a while since we’d fucked. Weeks, in fact. We went to dinner first, then went for a drive through the hills with the top down, before returning to his place.
He was starving when I arrived, so we headed off to dinner first, never kissing or hugging each other. He was a little grumpy.
He made some announcements as we drove off to the nearby town to where he lives, so far outside the city there are multiple small towns there, looking for a restaurant some neighbors had told him about.
The major announcement: he has decided to buy a house far from here. Soon. We also talked about the car and the fact it is slightly out of alignment since he had it serviced.
Now, I was annoyed. I had been so happy and excited to see him, but I was really freaking annoyed.
The restaurant was in a shopping center and it looked bad. Too bright, too empty, but whatever. It was bad, but our waitress was charming. BFD asked her age, because she was obviously young, and she told us 17. He asked if she were working there for the summer and she told us, frankly, a rather hard-luck story — lived on her own for a while, goign to cc in the spring after finishing her ged. She asked our ages at one point and got them so flatteringly wrong that she was actually confused. BFD and I do not look our actual ages, but he does not look 32, nor do I look 28. I told her she was off by a decade adn she did not believe me. It wasn’t the tip-whore flattery, she looked genuinely confused. When she put our orders in, BFD turned to me and said, I want to hire her. When she came back, we inquired a bit more, asking salary, etc., before revealing what he had in mind. He started, but I explained it to her — what the duties would entail. It’s my job as the “wife” to assert my position and handle the domestic stuff. They exchanged information and it was great. Sadly, the food was not.
Nor was our conversation. BFD has decided to buy a house elsewhere and commute back and forth to here. It will help him for his competition season to be in his own place, but it’s still devastating. I asked why the rush and he said, well, timing was, it makes sense to do it now . . . but he did not really explain how. It upset me enough that I withdrew a bit. In fact, I excused myself for the bathroom.
After dinner, we put the top down and headed off to the shopping district and drove around listening to music. I was not particularly engaged in the whole thing. My bag began vibrating and I glanced down and saw it was BP calling, but I let it roll to voicemail.
As we left, we drove back to his place, which surprised me. I was no longer hoping I’d be leaving with the car after the discussion we’d had on the way out, when he was sort of tense and annoyed, though not about me.
We pulled up and he left it in the drive.
He ran upstairs to check messages while I stood in the dining room, looking out over the spectacular view. In the dark, it’s just miles of blackness punctuated in the distance by lights on faraway hills. It’s beautiful.
I figured we were heading home, sex-free, because it had been a shitty disconnected evening. He came back downstairs, saw me, asked what I was doing, moved a dining room chair away from the table, and sat down, beckoning me over.
We had sex and, well, wow. I had two enormous orgasms. The first one was so mindblowing — and loud — that he actually shushed me. He held me so close to his chest. The second one came right after the first. My throat became so dry it hurt. After we kept going for a while, he had me stop and turn around, again leaning forward, until he had me stand up and he walked, still inside me, 10 feet over to the counter. That he can move me around, never losing his erection, is just a thing of beauty. Against the cold marble surface, I leaned as he had me spread my legs for the optimal thrusting angle. He started talking to me, asking if I liked what he was doing. I told him I loved it, I loved fucking him. He asked why, and I told him, we love the same stuff and we’re freaky in just the same way. I asked him the same, but he was too overwhelmed. In maybe three minutes, he came. It was so fast, so unbelievable. I grabbed his ass, and held him close. So hot. He started to pull out and I told him to stay as long as he could. He was leaned in to my body still, and kissed my shoulder. He did his best, but there’s only so long he can stay.
We separated finally, and I he asked if I wanted to go upstairs or down. I picked down and he started to walk upstairs, happy. He turned to me and said “hot,” but I didn’t really hear him, so I said, “what?” and he said “the sex is so hot,” just beaming.
Which, yeah, we’re really good at fucking.
We cleaned ourselves up and I was slowly pulling myself together. I put on my bra and panties and sat back down in the chair, very satisfied, but still feeling a bit out of sorts because of how poorly dinner had gone. I just wanted to leave. He came downstairs completely naked, which he never does, grinning from ear to ear, so very happy.
He picked up his clothes, got redressed, and was just beaming. He said, well, let me drive you back . . . I have some phone calls to make and people to check in with. He wanted to call his brother to talk more about their parents trip and to talk to some friends.
It’s hard to describe just how happy he was. He told me his brother upgraded their parents to business class since they were crossing an continent and an ocean, so he described the seats. I asked him which airline and I told him my mother had flown that way to Europe with her sisters. He looked at me and said, those are really expensive tickets. And I said, yes, I suppose they are, but you know long flight and all. He moved the chair back into place and again, just so happy.
I was grumpy. I was not getting the car back, though he’d told me before I was, and everything just seemed so shitty between us, except for the sex.
I was just mad. I told him, look, I can’t wait until we have more time because there are things I want to do [sexually to you], honey. Again, he’s happy.
We head off, music on, and he’s having a good time.
I glance at the clock and from arrival to departure including dinner, two drives, and sex — two hours. Two fucking hours. I was shocked. And angry. And he’s so fucking happy. So, we’re driving back into town and he’s just flying along, and we’re chatting and he misses the exit on the highway, and yet, he’s still happy. We pull up to my building and I asked him, as we sat there, when you said I could have the car before I could pay for it, what did that mean to you? He said, when you know you’ll be able to pay for it, even if you can’t that minute, then you can have it back. I said, well, that’s where we are now. I told him I have things happening and I started to tell him about them as he put the top up.
He kissed me and told me he may head to [big city within the state] tomorrow, and I said yes, for you meeting with [his business associate] and he said, no, I canceled that, to see [the woman he saw on the 4th].
He said, yeah, I think I will cancel it though. Maybe I will come by and pick you up and we’ll go to training in the morning. I’ll call you or email you and let you know either way.
He leans over, smiling, kissing me repeatedly, and so very happy. I mean, of course, he’s happy. He just had sex with me for the first time in 3 whole weeks and we were amazingly reconnected and the sex . . . hot. Like always. I get out of the car and I see that he is just grinning from ear to ear, looking at my ass and so very happy.
It’s almost hard to be mad at him when he’s so fucking happy.
And, yet, I am mad. Part of it is pms, but part of it is that we’re just nowhere. Or it feels like we’re nowhere when he’s moving off to find a new place to live, without me (although I never mention it to him).
I sat here in bed, smelling of BFD and sex, and unhappy . . . wondering what the fuck I was going to do now.
Two hours later, BP called and his advice shocked me.
(Continued, at some point, in part two.)