I woke up thinking about her. Couldn't wait for her to arrive. She texted saying she was outside. I brought her in. We sat on the sofa. We talked. I kissed her. She kissed me back. We made out some more, I got handsy, she said no. I stopped. We talked. We kissed again. She laid down with her back on the sofa, and I on top of her. We made out some more, she said no. I stopped. I stood up and just looked at her. "What do you want me to do" she asked. "I don't want you to do anything" I replied. She looked so torn apart. She wanted to **** me so badly but she knew it would only make the pain worse. A fire lit up inside her. She stood up, wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. She had never pressed her body against me so hard before. She reached down for my **** and started rubbing. Suddenly, what I had been craving all morning, and was about to receive, was making me feel sick inside. But it didn't matter because I kissed her back and held her even tighter. I picked her up. She wrapped her legs around me. I carried her into the bedroom, our lips still tightly locked together. I threw her down on the bed. She took off her top. I took mine off. She took off her shorts. I took mine off. I kissed her hard and removed her underwear. She removed mine. I pressed my naked body on top of her naked body. No foreplay, no ******. I penetrated her. She moaned, as did I. Back and forth I began to ******. I felt so ***** but I couldn't stop. I noticed tears in her eyes. That made me stop. I looked at her. She said to me through quivering lips "You know I like you a lot, right?". I kept silent, just staring at her. Tears streamed down my eyes. I like this girl, but not as much as she likes me. She loves me. She absolutely adores me. I could never reciprocate the love she has for me. I pulled out and laid beside her, with my arms around her body. We were still. We were silent. I caressed her skin and hair. I held her hands. Tears were still streaming from my eyes. We had known each other for 10 months. I am heartless. She turned to face me. Wiped the tears from my eyes. I embraced her. I held her tight. She deserves so much better. This twisted relationship between us must stop. We did everything couples did. But I never called her my girlfriend. I never told anyone about her. I never took a picture with her. Not even one. 10 months. Not even one. She put up with so much of my *******. She fought so hard. She looked so adorable in my arms. I couldn't help myself. I kissed her. She kissed me back. I told her to get on top. She rode me like never before. She bounced like a toddler on a trampoline for the first time. She ****** the **** out of me. I sat up with her still on top of me, picked her up and spun us around so that now she lay on her back while I was on top. I pumped away. We kissed passionately. Nearly blew my load so I put on a ******. I didn't trust myself to pull out in time. I ****** her and then laid beside her again. We talked. We talked about us. I started crying again. It would have made the strangest movie scene had it been filmed. We just laid there for a while. Just when she was about to leave, we made love again. We got dressed. We hugged. Then she left.
I miss her already. I miss her so much. I miss the way she looks at me. I miss her excitement when she sees me. I miss how she grabs my arm so lovingly. I miss how she kisses me so adoringly.
The bell goes there's someone at the door called Chlöe Chlöe de Suite, I would've never've answered her before but things've changed since then: she's become a successful writer famous almost I've gone bald; and I'm on it again. We get charged up go out at Subterranea I lips her though she's anxious doesn't wanna be seen case a friend of the married man she's seeing sees, he's semi-famous worth retaining she can't afford to risk it on a one night thing. We go back to mine where we kiss some more; her body responds unwinds but her gaze is afield eyeing the next line. At three or so to bed Chlöe stays up alone to drink and smoke; two hours later she joins me our parts entwine I don’t know what she wants exactly more white? but she plucks the ****** that I put on off which she says I won't need says she can't feel through a layer of rubber, so I guess she did.
“Why are you here?” she said as we lay breathless in bed “Why are we doing this?” I said nothing paused nothing at all, that's pretty clear isn't it? “I use the rhythm method” she told me “I know when I'm fertile so it's ok.” I didn't ask what she was now but she laughs when I apply a ****** anyway we both know what it means. “I think I know why you came,” softly softly silent technique “for a weekend thing that's all.” Pregnant pause summon courage and then “...That's true” I said after a while. She stopped turned onto her side facing away “I am so sick of weekend things.” Her voice came from the other side of the room; on the screen I watch Madagascar II on pause. After five minutes she turned back we started doing it again.