Just a record

page views:2 Publication date:2013-07-16

Our meeting took place here, naturally, by the bedside.
He was a few years younger than me, his breath radiating youthful energy, like a teenager, as intense and fresh as a newly opened bottle of red wine. This feeling has been deeply ingrained in my memory since my first sexual experience, and every time I encounter it, it feels like it can burn me, leaving me both clear-headed and confused.
Luckily, he was clean, handsome, with nimble fingers, a gentle temperament, and emotional intelligence far superior to mine. So he possessed both the vibrant energy of a boy and the comfort and consideration that made me feel at ease. Of course, this was only when we met. On ordinary days, there was absolutely no disturbance, and even when we contacted each other, we maintained a very safe distance.
I have a habit of showering before going out, but since we weren't that familiar with each other, and I felt he was somewhat of a germaphobe (actually, I am too), I would always shower again before we met. This felt a little strange to me, somewhat like the procedure people often use when having sex with prostitutes, but only I knew that it was like a feather subtly stirring my interest. I know all too well what I'm like in bed, and his unfamiliarity only made me more eager to please him. I did my best to cooperate with all his movements, and the more I saw his pleasure, the more addicted I became. The pleasure he gave me spread from my body, from his caresses, to every pore, making my whole body tingle, and I couldn't even control my facial expressions...
Every time we met, it was a constant exchange of desires. We would hold hands on the bedside table or in the bathtub, chatting about this and that, but the moment we turned over, we could start making love again, until we were so exhausted we didn't even have the strength to open our eyes. A glance was all it took to start again... We must both be wondering how empty we were inside most of the time...
When it comes to daily life, he's more honest than I am, perhaps because he rarely asks me, while I always ask questions without thinking. Gradually, he stopped hiding his phone calls from me. From just a few words, I could piece together his recent activities. There's a rare kind of friendship like this: because of sex, it's dangerous, yet somehow, it also becomes incredibly safe. The boundaries are clear to both of us, there they are, and there's no way they can be crossed.
After the call, he told me he had to leave early, so he showered and got dressed. A parting hug, just five or ten seconds longer than expected, and suddenly everything was shrouded in mystery again…

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Just a record

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