CG & Me continued...

OK – back to CG.
I cannot express to you the intensity of my feelings aged 19 when I met him and the impact that never being allowed to even touch one another left me with. We could do nothing while in treatment no kisses, no touch, lick, suck… and fuck?? Pah. That was a crime punishable by instant dismissal.

So CG and I both completed our stint in treatment on the same day - and he went back from where he came, as did I, but we talked, a lot. On the phone, every day. For hours – literally hours.
Eventually, after many dreams and few promises, lots of bewilderment and fantasy of a future – we both relapsed.
That was it, done deal. Over. Finito. Our lives were more important than our lust.

He did his thing over the years, and as y’all know – I did mine. In fact I spent the next few years honing my technique.

So, fast forward 12 years – and I swear it happened like this: I was walking down a very quiet small road off Bond Street and CG was walking up towards me on the same side of the road.
I said his name. He stopped. I stopped. We stared at each other, hugged, went for coffee, swapped numbers, but didn’t keep in contact.

It was not allowed to keep in contact with men that I found attractive despite never having had so much as a smooch with him, within the remit of my then relationship.

You may ask how the hell sexless relationship-guy knew about CG?
I’d probably mentioned him along the way. But really, I knew if I was to spend time with CG, me and he would have sex. All I wanted at that time was to bounce off his cock and get a flavour of what I’d been robbed of tasting through out the years.

Instead I had a Starbucks mixed with a sprinkling of sulk – cos I couldn’t do what I wanted… Well, I could have. Course I could, The Man from Delmonte was hardly going to say ‘No’… but my blinkin’ conscience wouldn’t allow it. Naively perhaps – I value fidelity.

But like the saying goes – every dog has it’s day. I had to wait. Patiently.(God, I sound like a predatory male) and eventually it happened.

So as I was saying last night CG was already in my flat when I got in on the bathing night.
We kissed, I sucked, he rubbed - but we didn’t fuck until later that evening.

Don’t forget this is a guy who I’d fantasised about for years. How was the sex?? Do you want me to tell you that it was awful? A big let down?
Do you want to hear that I’d blown him, and it, out of proportion?

Well, I can’t say that, ‘cos it wasn’t like that. I’m no sycophant, I’ve said that before, but CG and I seemed to click and everything worked blissfully well together. We laughed about what a let down it would have been had the sex been shit. Fuck – can you imagine??
It’s interesting how he is the only guy that I have ever slept with who know that I was once a hooker. Did I feel differentl towards him? No. Did I feel that he judged me? Absolutely not.
Did I feel as tho he treated me as a hooker? You’ve got to be joking. We had a great time – and surprisingly it didn’t feel overly loaded with expectation or forward thinking.
I can honestly say that for that 7 days I was living every minute in the moment. Enjoying the glances, the smirks, stroking under his chin and him rubbing my thumb, caressing my hands.
These are the things I class as intimate – not sex. I can bang anyone.
But let me tell you – I cannot sit comfortably close to someone, especially a man whom I’m not connected to without feeling awkward. And as for him touching me or me him – forget that.

I think the bath for me was as memorable as it was because I felt that there, in candle light, sitting opposite each other silently, our bodies touching under the steaming water.
In that few minutes there was no other people on the planet - Just me and him looking at each other. It was still. It was peaceful.
In that moment I was entirely happy. No worries. No thoughts and no other experience of anything in the universe, only him.

For me, this was the all encompassing expression of intimacy. This is probably the very thing that I’d really craved from him over the years.

Yes, after that extended moment we did fuck; in the water, my leg on the side of the bat. I was bent over, holding onto the taps for dear life.
I crouched over his cock and did my thing, our bodies slided against each other, and it was delicious.
We deserved the week that we had. We’d waited a long time.

And shall I let you into secret……….? I invited him to recreate that week with me in Sardinia (when Dee and I decided we weren’t going together.)
And you want to know what he said?

He’s seeing someone.

For my feelings on that – please refer to the past post called ‘ONE NIGHT STAND'.
That’ll tell you all you need to know.











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