Anyway, we had the best sex ever. I mean EVER. He knew what he was doing, and he was only 19. I think, maybe 20. Regardless, I didn’t know his age until month’s later. By then it didn’t matter. I had regular sex on a daily basis. I was so exhausted in the mornings that I barely made it work.
I thought I would enjoy the attention. You know the sex. Because there was no other attention; We never talked, never conversed, never left my room. Go would call, come over (wink), do our thing and leave. Or I would call, he would come over (double wink), do our thing, and he would leave.
I was exhausted both mentally and physically. A few month’s of glory was also a few months of hell. I felt lonely and not loved. I wanted more. I want to be loved, talked to, taken out to dinner, a drink, a movie. I’ll settle for a walk around the block. As long as it is with someone that wants me to. Not just for my body, but for my heart, my mind, and yes ME.
So I digress I had the best sex ever and no love. I would trade good sex and no talk, to bad sex and love and comfort.
Okay, I might be lying. You’ll never know. Why? Because I sure don’t.