marielmia

Mariel is MIA
2020-10-05 11:41:19 (UTC)

Tale of Two Mariels

Had a really nice time this weekend with Lunchtime. I had already agreed before i came, both with M and myself, that i wouldn't stay the night. If i went over without a clear idea of what i wanted or didn't want, I'd for sure be fucking. It's clear to me that if a relationship is possible here, it's way too soon.

After the feast Lunchie made for us, i could feel the buildup. Thing is, as soon as i felt that first tingle, i knew i had to shut it all down. We had a really nice convo about relationships, why they move ahead, possibly succeed or why they fail. He told me of a couple women he dated that he thought he was interested in, but they became sex first type things and eventually, they just faded. One lady giving him the boot, the other ghosting him until she finally told him that she wanted more. He admitted she was right and he was just into the sex. After all this, i felt so much better about things. Now my side of the convo, well, i'm a great believer in letting a man talk. They do go on and on when it's about them. So there wasn't very much some for my contribution when the news came on. We just had some fresh coffee and a donut, getting me back to earth for my drive home. I did so want to fuck this man, but maybe it's maturity finally overcoming the self destructive inner me. Progress!


By the time i got home, M was asleep, with the end of SNL playing. I turned off the tv and joined him in bed. He asked me how the evening went and i told him. "Sounds like it may lead somewhere," he said. That made me feel unsettled. He was right, mind you, but i couldn't help but feeling he and i were unraveling. Did i want this? Or rather, did the rational side of me want this, because my inner demons certainly did not. I'm not sure, but one of me snuggled up to him and whispered in his ear, "Fuck me... Please." I suppose he understood my confusion. He made love to me in a way we hadn't in a while. Loving and slow, Paying attention to me, following my sounds, leading me to the pleasure that he knew i deserved.

And then, as if some cosmic shift had occurred, he flipped me over and took what he wanted for himself, almost driving me through the mattress. I was silent. It was a transition. Our coupling was no longer for the content me. He knew it. I knew it. He gave me no time to mourn. It didn't hurt really. I know how to handle him that way. i made it hard for him to get inside, forcing him to allow for some lubrication. i reached for small bottle on the bed stand, dripping some of the magic fluid onto his finger. The passing of control. He put a pillow under my belly, more for his comfort than mine. i pulled myself open automatically and i heard and felt him spit, taking me with his finger. And as if my former self had fully exchanged places with my current one, i told him in the most profane language i could muster, i was his.

And he made clear, at least that night, i was.




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