Morse Code  

rm_Simplysexy65 51F
870 posts
6/13/2006 1:56 pm

Last Read:
6/13/2006 3:45 pm

Morse Code

I have decided to start a code for us horny, crude, and impolite persons of the "dangerous kind" here on AdultFriendFinder. We need something as SIMPLE as "should we order a pizza tonight?" It will stand for "please invite me over now and fuck me black and blue". Capische? Such a code would serve me well on those lonely blogging nights as I sit by the cactus, dry and in heat while making love to my tonic and gin.

After the code is morsed out on our keyboards...and your wife has left out of town..I arrive.....I might have slipped the "appropriately inappropriate" suggestion AGAIN into our conversation ten minutes after we did the small talk and bullshit. But I leave my sunglasses on for five minutes to size you up first. It has been a few years and I want to see what marriage did to you. You offer me wine and we doused ourselves with melancholy music, making excuses for the passage of time and small talk with the envision of the sweaty, fleshly kind. When the glasses do come off, you know it is the other code that you have passed inspection and it is time to feel the heat.

I might have told you on the phone that I had dreamed of you the night before. It was an odd dream woven through another strange dream where you drove racecars and I chased down a tranny gurl with spike hair and jagged fingernails who was after you! Yikes! I almost did not cum! But I don't expect that I could have expressed the seductiveness of the dream or the agitation with which I woke on that pull-out bed in my triple wide in the bumblefuck town that is just a handful of miles from where you live now. It was a easy ride on my bike! No sweat!

What I remember now from that dream, is more a collection of sensations than a story: Perhaps lost impressions left behind from you....or me...a straight razor on your ankles locked around your waist…biting your bottom lip...the sensation of sucking on your tongue...oh so specific and yet brief....a place perhaps, to begin. Dunno. And so, you see, it was the best kind of torture to come tonight, drink and smoke and size you up and then go without saying "should we order a pizza?". Are you mad? Well I am!

How could you say I never loved you? Why did you get married? You think I didn’t love you? You think I still don’t love you?? Well, that is so much bullshit that I wanna scream right now...ride my bike around your neighborhood and scream the honest truth.

I loved you and hell, I love you still. Doesn’t change anything, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by silent while you discount it. For fuck’sake, I remember your voice, the softness of your hands and your chin. The way you smell, and taste, yeah, that taste too. I remember the sounds you make in response to a curled tongue there and the slightest bite here. I still get weak sometimes at the thought of the hairs on your back, nuzzling them for nearly three years.

I still love your silk ties and flannel boxers and sharp suits, that serious face you make while shaving, the devastating color of your eyes, how you’d touch my face, to bring me to you, just before you came, your whispered of your Spanish tongue, your palm in the small of my back, your hesitant, am-I-doing-this-right mouth on me.

I remember those last glimpses of your innocent virginity, when we had tangled for too many hours in the darkness, like teenagers, not knowing if, when and where we should go...and that night of too much..... or not enough?... when we whispered before parting...soon...I had promised that you would not loose your innocence like I did..... in the back of a chevy on a river bank, head banging against the ashtray.

You think I didn’t love you, don’t still love you, and yet, the part of me that is yours would tear away at a moment’s notice to be at your side for fucking ever of course!!.....YET there are the thousand other parts of me that would slink away into the shadows if I did that, and those I know well enough to remember distinctly why I left you in the first place!! GOD! Break out the tequila! And the second place. And that brief attempt at a third.

You see, those other parts of me knew the truth that I wasn’t the girl for you and you weren’t the boy for me, but damnit, it makes me more than a little crazy to think that you think that because we weren’t a perfect fit, all that free love passed back and forth between us in those years wasn’t actually love.

Goddamnit Albert, don’t you get it? That my having been your first love and you having been my fourth (and my having had lovers and others before you) destined us to this unequal footing forever!! But your demanding need for the "what about me's" took me away to those that had been there before you came along. It was always and finally too much to ask of anyone.

The very last time I saw you, I remember thinking that I had been right all along, that the signs and lines and sharp edges of heartbreak suited you. You wore the scars of having loved me, rather well. Either way you read that sentence, it applies. And all I really mean to say is this; that the scars of having loved and lost you, suit me as well, and you remain my Fifth Avenue. I must go now, I am not hungry for pizza...I have a headache!

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