Hate me all you want for not writing for so long if you must; but if you want a real reason to hate me, read on.
It took a while after my divorce was over for me to get back into the swing of things, at least in the bedroom. After over 9 years “off the market” the idea of finding someone who seemed worthy of a romp, much less getting naked with someone I don’t know very well … yeah … horrifying at best.
If you have to ease your way back into bed with someone, I always never recommend doing it with someone who you consider to be one of your best friends. I also rarely take my own advice so guess what? Who would’ve known that a man I have come to adore for who he is and how he makes me laugh and smile, who is 8 years my senior, and totally not my normal type … would be a rockstar in bed like I can not even express.
I’ll admit that sparks had been flying for some time. Our version of fun together is breaking into abandoned, partially destroyed, and wildly unsafe buildings … to take pictures. That’s smart … and a nice way to get the adrenaline juices flowing freely. It didn’t take long for the innuendos to start flying between us, thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone who spent time with us asked if we were together, some even made comments about us needing to be separated via means such as fabric softener or pry bar.
But leave it to me to spin off a fantasy sexual relationship with a man who has a girlfriend. So I did my best to behave—I suck at that. After a few clearly intentional touches from him on a very early, very cold, very abandoned Sunday morning, I made up my mind that at some point I would make that epic first post-divorce move and plant one on this guy. I mean seriously, what did I have to lose? A few days passed and he came for dinner. We hung out for a while and in a random moment of silently looking at each other (and with the encouragement of half a bottle of Jim Beam) I literally announced “Fuck it!” out loud and then lunged across the room at him.
As if the fact that I had strong feelings for this guy wasn’t enough to complicate my barely post-divorce mind, he surprisingly not only accepted my advance but dove in head first. Clothes flying in all directions, limbs tangled up, tongues and hands and lips running over skin like months worth of sexual tension had just broke.
I shit you not—THREE hours later—he was still going. I on the other hand, was used to a “15 minute fuck and roll over” with my ex—I was a twisted combination of exhausted and so hooked it wasn’t even funny.
*NOTE TO WOMEN* If you aren’t gonna give your man what he wants, the way he wants it, and make him squirm, moan and say “holy fuck” when he’s done, someone else will. Apparently, I’m that someone. Yeah I’m a dirty whore. Guess what? I’m okay with it.
So its been just about a month and a half since my 3-hour-romp with an older man (who I adore) that has a 7-year-long relationship with a girlfriend who has NO idea there’s something going on. I have a God given talent to ignore my conscious and a incredibly threadbare moral fiber which has allowed me to continue taking this guy into my bed for hours on end, sometimes 3 times a day. It’s worth every second of it. Gotta keep my heart and head in check, but that is a story (and a guy) for another day.
~Not Yer Bitch (but on occasion I’ll be his!)