he text me, in a right state, so i called him. We do that sometimes, that’s what friends are for, you should know who you can lean on, there are so few people out there. And he wanted to see me but it was impossible, although i would cross oceans for him, first you need to find a boat (i’m not a good enough swimmer but if the day came i needed to, i would). But i could see him the following day. We arranged to meet up, we looked forward to it.
I booked us a hotel, nothing fancy, we had nowehere else to go. i had split from my boyfriend but had made myself homeless so had to move back in with my ex. FB was living in shared lodgings, visitors weren’t permitted apparently. The night before, when he had text, he started takling about his erection, which was something we often did, but i didn’t feel right about it, he was in a bad way and i was living with my ex. He said, the next day when we met up, that i had made him feel bad, by cutting the conversation short, when he wanted to talk about sex.
So we met up, after work. And i looked and felt like shit, i had been working all day, every day, things were difficult for m, but i wanted to see my friend, i was scared for him, by the desperation i heard in his voice the night before. We went and had a drink, he spent most of the time on his phone. Then we went and had dinner, but i hadn’t got changed out of my work stuff and felt ill at ease, though dinner was nice. And we bought some alcohol and took it back to the hotel.
We thought we would sit in and havea few drinks then decide what to do.
But he spent an hour on his phone, to his girlfriend, who he had not told me about and it made me feel awful. So i wanted to leave, to go home, to be with people who wouldn’t make me feel shit. He answered his phone, having already spent a lot of the evening texting and left the room to talk. A whole hour, whilst i got slowly drunk and thought about leaving and asked myself what i was doing there and why had i left my beautiful and loving boyfriend and secure home for someone who cannot even devote one evening to me.
Then he came back and i was pissed off and he was getting high by visiting the bathroom every twenty minutes or so and then staying in there for a quarter of an hour at a time. And i seriously wondered what the fuck to do and felt homesick, which i hadn’t done in years, and guilty and so tired and slightly afraid.
I didn’t recognise this person. And he got in the bath and i got changed and we started to talk and started to play a game but i couldn’t get into it because the whole time i was thinking about him being on his phone to his girlfriend and that i didn’t recognise him but i still wanted to fuck him though i also did not want to at all.
He wasn’t my friend that evening, he was all over the place and dijointed, even our conversations weren’t making sense and i just got more drunk and spen a lot of time dancing about on my own because he was in the bathroom with his class A friend.
Then we went out, quite late i think for a drink and as we were walking up the road he said “I’m not shagging you tonight” and i don’t know why he said it. We hadn’t even mentioned shagging and after what happened the first time (I shall tell you about that in another post), i didn’t even want to. Then we went to a bar and he was so trashed and kept talking utter shite and made me angry, with his wallowing in self-pity bought about by his own destructive behaviour. It made me feel sick and at times i was both disgusted and turned off, i didn’t like him very much at all.
But looking the way he does, i don’t know, who can resist? Not me, not when i’m drunk and miserable, a terrible combination.
So we went back to the hotel. And he wanted a pen and paper so i got the porter to fetch us some. And he tried to write but that was boring because he didn’t want to share and i was still awake. Then he went back to the bathroom for half an hour. And after the half an hour he started demanding scissors, from inside the bathroom. So i went to find him a pair and the porter wouldn’t give me any and when i asked FB why he wanted them, he said it was to trim his pubs. And that confused me.
Eventually he came out of the bathroom and then he said he wanted some viagra or some such similar thing from the vending machine in the mens toilets downstairs. But it was getting ridiculous, all these bizarre demands and anyway, i was falling asleep now, through boredom.
So we went to bed, with the stereo playing and he couldn’t get it up. In fact, it appeared as though it was never going to ‘get up’ again. And i really couldn’t be bothered, it all seemed a bit sordid, seedy, not at all what either of us desrved i thought. So i started to go to sleep. The he went down on me. And let me tell you that it was total heaven. There was nothing, absolutely nothing i wouldn’t do for that boy right then. To call him an expert would be a shortfall of description for something so utterly erotic and beautiful and fulfilling. FB was a genius and i would marry him tomorrow if only for his tongue, it surpasses all else. he truly loves it and it shows, he drove me wild.
I can’t rememebr when it stopped or where time elapsed after that.
In the morning i woke up and felt awful. I didn’t ever want to wake up but we had to, had to because we had to leave the hotel and i had plans that day. I wanted us to stay together but he was a bit of a mess and to be honest, he looked like he wanted to be far away from me.
Then he fucked me. He made me come, i was in my own world. He turns me on like no one else. he fucked me nicely this time although he could not come inside me, i wouldn’t let him, that would have caused an issue i wasn’t capable of dealing with. He came on my shoulder and it trickled into my hair, which i loved.
And within the next hour we parted company and haven’t seen each other since, and never will. Two weeks later he told me to fuck off and also texted ‘fuck you’ to me for no apparent reason after avoiding my phone calls.
And i hated him for that.
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