“Sexually?” I asked in bewilderment, because I was still shell-shocked at what he was telling me.
His head hung low, almost in shame, and he admitted, “Yes…sexually. I want to be free to have sex with other women. I want to know if I’m missing out on something.”
Oh, how those words had hurt, slicing and gouging at my heart. Yet I didn’t cry and I didn’t argue with him, which is odd because I am not a passive woman.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Sutton,” he said as we sat in my dorm room. “I’m asking if we can take a break…explore the world apart for a while, make sure we have no doubts before we get married and have kids.”
It seemed to make sense to me. It seemed to be the psychologically healthy thing to do at that point, even though I wasn’t having doubts about spending my life with him. I wasn’t looking at other men, wondering if their dicks were bigger or if they were better lovers. Well, okay, that’s not exactly true. My best friend and roommate Shelley and I would often gossip and secretly lust after hot guys we would see on campus. It was all in good fun, and so while I might have looked and wondered, I definitely never wanted to act on it.
So Brandon said he wanted to take a break—no specific time period, though—and I just nodded my head in agreement, even though my heart was broken. I trusted that if Brandon and I were meant to be together, it would happen one day.
And now maybe that day was here. Brandon and I were meeting for dinner tomorrow night, because he said that he wanted to talk to me…catch up with me…tell me about all of the things that had been going on in his life. It had sounded to me as if he’d had some sort of epiphany and it made me wonder if I was a part of that.
I filter through my feelings, wondering what it is I truly think about Brandon entering my life again. I don’t have a rush of excitement like I thought I would. I have some curiosity, for sure, but remember that broken heart I had? Well, it healed pretty damn fast. I didn’t sit around and pine after Brandon. I moved on with my life and while I had many days of disquieted sorrow, Brandon became just a fond memory a lot faster than I would have thought possible if I was so in love with him and ready to spend the rest of my life with him.
I bring forth Brandon’s image in my mind, trying to rekindle some sort of feeling. Light brown hair, soft brown eyes, lean build, just slightly taller than me.
I try to remember back to the last time we made love…what it felt like to have him inside of me. An image comes to me, Brandon’s face tucked into my shoulder, his h*ps pushing and pulling as he slides in and out. It felt good…always good with Brandon. In my memory, I mentally will Brandon to lift his face, to look down at me so I can try to remember what was in his eyes that last time we were intimate—just before he broke up with me.
His head lifts, the stubble from his chin abrading my shoulder. He gives an extra hard push of his hips, and he slams in me just a bit harder. Definitely not Brandon’s style but I find that my body likes it—at least in my mind.
Pulling out and slamming back in even harder, Brandon lifts his head as I watch him above me. When his face is fully revealed, I’m stunned to find crystal blue eyes staring at me and full lips tilted upward in a triumphant smile. Black hair framing the face of an angel as he looks down at me with lust-filled eyes.
Alex Crossman inside of me, pulling back out with exquisite control, only to slam back in hard, causing a groan to tumble out of my mouth.
My eyes fly open, seeking reality. I take in a water stain on the ceiling just above me and try to banish all fantasies of Alex Crossman from my mind. I mentally take a scrub brush and rub it hard over my brain, desperately trying to call back the image of Brandon, or Barney the Dinosaur, or sick starving children. Anything but Alex Crossman.
I tentatively close my eyes again, and that gorgeous face is still hovering over me front and center, causing my heartbeat to pick up its pace. I pop my eyes open again and stare at the water stain, worrying my lower lip with my teeth.
What in the hell?
Sitting up on my couch, I reach over to my coffee table and grab my cell phone. I send a quick text to Shelley. She’s still my best friend, and I’m not sure if it’s lame or not, but really my only good friend. I’m actually quite an introverted person and don’t do well in crowds, thus I was never the kind of woman who had a large core group of girlfriends. But four years as college roommates and my bond with Shelley was sealed. Even when she got married this past summer and moved to Pittsburgh, the bond couldn’t even be dinged. We talked, texted and Facebooked several times a day.
My fingers fly over the screen. Remind me again why Brandon wasn’t the love of my life?
I don’t wait long. It’s almost 10 P.M. but I know she’ll answer me.
Because he didn’t excite you enough. The most you did when he broke up with you was give a strong sigh and then you moved on.
Right, I think to myself. There wasn’t as deep a connection as I thought.
Still, Brandon and I had four years together. That’s a long time, and in those four years we made many, many wonderful memories. We were compatible in so many ways. It’s something I can’t neglect to consider, and maybe the second time would be the charm. Maybe we’ve both grown in ways that would add depth and excitement to the existing bonds we had.
Yes, I definitely should keep an open mind about this.
I text Shelley back. Thanks babe. Love u. Night.
Then I head to bed myself and hope to God that Alex Crossman isn’t going to star in my dreams. I don’t know if I can handle that type of excitement.
His head hung low, almost in shame, and he admitted, “Yes…sexually. I want to be free to have sex with other women. I want to know if I’m missing out on something.”
Oh, how those words had hurt, slicing and gouging at my heart. Yet I didn’t cry and I didn’t argue with him, which is odd because I am not a passive woman.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Sutton,” he said as we sat in my dorm room. “I’m asking if we can take a break…explore the world apart for a while, make sure we have no doubts before we get married and have kids.”
It seemed to make sense to me. It seemed to be the psychologically healthy thing to do at that point, even though I wasn’t having doubts about spending my life with him. I wasn’t looking at other men, wondering if their dicks were bigger or if they were better lovers. Well, okay, that’s not exactly true. My best friend and roommate Shelley and I would often gossip and secretly lust after hot guys we would see on campus. It was all in good fun, and so while I might have looked and wondered, I definitely never wanted to act on it.
So Brandon said he wanted to take a break—no specific time period, though—and I just nodded my head in agreement, even though my heart was broken. I trusted that if Brandon and I were meant to be together, it would happen one day.
And now maybe that day was here. Brandon and I were meeting for dinner tomorrow night, because he said that he wanted to talk to me…catch up with me…tell me about all of the things that had been going on in his life. It had sounded to me as if he’d had some sort of epiphany and it made me wonder if I was a part of that.
I filter through my feelings, wondering what it is I truly think about Brandon entering my life again. I don’t have a rush of excitement like I thought I would. I have some curiosity, for sure, but remember that broken heart I had? Well, it healed pretty damn fast. I didn’t sit around and pine after Brandon. I moved on with my life and while I had many days of disquieted sorrow, Brandon became just a fond memory a lot faster than I would have thought possible if I was so in love with him and ready to spend the rest of my life with him.
I bring forth Brandon’s image in my mind, trying to rekindle some sort of feeling. Light brown hair, soft brown eyes, lean build, just slightly taller than me.
I try to remember back to the last time we made love…what it felt like to have him inside of me. An image comes to me, Brandon’s face tucked into my shoulder, his h*ps pushing and pulling as he slides in and out. It felt good…always good with Brandon. In my memory, I mentally will Brandon to lift his face, to look down at me so I can try to remember what was in his eyes that last time we were intimate—just before he broke up with me.
His head lifts, the stubble from his chin abrading my shoulder. He gives an extra hard push of his hips, and he slams in me just a bit harder. Definitely not Brandon’s style but I find that my body likes it—at least in my mind.
Pulling out and slamming back in even harder, Brandon lifts his head as I watch him above me. When his face is fully revealed, I’m stunned to find crystal blue eyes staring at me and full lips tilted upward in a triumphant smile. Black hair framing the face of an angel as he looks down at me with lust-filled eyes.
Alex Crossman inside of me, pulling back out with exquisite control, only to slam back in hard, causing a groan to tumble out of my mouth.
My eyes fly open, seeking reality. I take in a water stain on the ceiling just above me and try to banish all fantasies of Alex Crossman from my mind. I mentally take a scrub brush and rub it hard over my brain, desperately trying to call back the image of Brandon, or Barney the Dinosaur, or sick starving children. Anything but Alex Crossman.
I tentatively close my eyes again, and that gorgeous face is still hovering over me front and center, causing my heartbeat to pick up its pace. I pop my eyes open again and stare at the water stain, worrying my lower lip with my teeth.
What in the hell?
Sitting up on my couch, I reach over to my coffee table and grab my cell phone. I send a quick text to Shelley. She’s still my best friend, and I’m not sure if it’s lame or not, but really my only good friend. I’m actually quite an introverted person and don’t do well in crowds, thus I was never the kind of woman who had a large core group of girlfriends. But four years as college roommates and my bond with Shelley was sealed. Even when she got married this past summer and moved to Pittsburgh, the bond couldn’t even be dinged. We talked, texted and Facebooked several times a day.
My fingers fly over the screen. Remind me again why Brandon wasn’t the love of my life?
I don’t wait long. It’s almost 10 P.M. but I know she’ll answer me.
Because he didn’t excite you enough. The most you did when he broke up with you was give a strong sigh and then you moved on.
Right, I think to myself. There wasn’t as deep a connection as I thought.
Still, Brandon and I had four years together. That’s a long time, and in those four years we made many, many wonderful memories. We were compatible in so many ways. It’s something I can’t neglect to consider, and maybe the second time would be the charm. Maybe we’ve both grown in ways that would add depth and excitement to the existing bonds we had.
Yes, I definitely should keep an open mind about this.
I text Shelley back. Thanks babe. Love u. Night.
Then I head to bed myself and hope to God that Alex Crossman isn’t going to star in my dreams. I don’t know if I can handle that type of excitement.
