Because I couldn't take him seriously, Casual wasn't a threat. He was a delight -- an indulgence that meant nut without strings and no promises to be broken. As such, this twice bitten monogamist was more than happy to accept the terms.
A golden boy. A pretty young thing. No rhythm to speak of, no bedroom savvy. Instead, he was rough 'round edges and smooth everywhere in between. Perhaps he didn't electrify my body, but he envied it. And sometimes that's plenty.
I initiated everything. Greeted him shirtless and in sweatpants, skipping the formality of underwear. Stood silent and let a thin stretch of tented cotton do the talking -- directing his eyes downward and his mouth to agape. Still, no words there in the dark, when the drawstring released and unveiled several inches of anticipation at full mast.
And so it began.
I initiated everything. Paused for a moment to marvel at the five feet and nine inches of pure gold devoid of blemish and availing itself for my consumption. Manifest destiny pulsed within me, first alerting, then dispatching every appendage to its prescribed ministry.
And so it began.
He was a man. Refused to squirm, but I knew better. These lips incite nirvana frequently enough to know the feel of a man at his peak. And this tongue enough to push him past. Twice.
I humored his thrusts and was tickled by his explosion. He'd given a bass tone warning seventeen strokes before I watched his tender architecture collapse atop my chest, flinching and spent. Palming the back of his head, I smiled over his shoulder at the gods who'd never stopped watching.
And then it was my turn.
Delicate thing. Afterwards, he asked how frequently I went to the gym. Nested in the comfort of my arms, lips grazing my nipple, he sputtered "I think I procrastinate because I fear failure." In his innocence, he reminded me of a time where afterglow epiphanies didn't strike me as trite and cuddling was an undeniable precursor to love. How precious he was.
A half-assed resolution to make this a regular thing. But this time he had to get mom's car back post haste. He hit me off with the nigga handshake. Perhaps it struck him as misplaced, so he kissed me awkwardly on the neck before finally giving in to a full hug. Feeling the scales in his mind struggling to balance cultural protocol against transgressive sex, I held him close.
In our two hours together, Casual had brightened my spirits. A golden blur, not yet ripe, he filled my space for long enough to remind me how delightful transience can be. This twice bitten monogamist was more than happy to accept the terms.