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My heart skipped a beat the moment I laid eyes on you. Or was it two? …or twenty? I couldn’t breathe, let alone count. It was as if time had slowed down to a standstill – coming to a definite, grinding, halt – and yet, had simultaneously sped up as well; as if everything else that had mattered before had been leading up to the deafening crescendo that was this very moment. Adagio.
I feigned a casual smile, if only to convince myself that yes, this was perfectly natural AND acceptable, and yes, we did this all the time. This was an ordinary moment in ordinary time, nothing spectacular to the unkeen eyes of the onlookers I’m sure were all staring me down.
I suddenly felt very
What was I even doing here?
And of all the places, why “coffee”??
It’s like my brain just defaults to the most innocuous “safe space” I can think of – where I go to interview potential babysitters, where I meet up with my sponsor(s) to go over stepwork; where I go to be alone in the midst of a crowd. So I can be a “part of” with out truly having to be “apart of,” yanno? Yeah, that made more sense in my head.
I guess I just figured it was something casual; somewhere neutral, and crowded enough in case the rational part of my brain screamed, “Run!” and I would heed it – that panicky voice of reason – as if I could just walk away at the end. As if “coffee” had been the ‘final destination’ instead of being the very first step upon this precipice that I have so desperately wanted to jump off of for such a long, long time, only to be caught up in your loving arms.
“I shouldn’t want this,” I whispered in my mind; “This is so wrong…” But with a simple glance in your direction, and a warm smile, returned in kind, I am lost – and yet – somehow found again, in this strange, new world.
“A Close Encounter of the First Kind”
I don’t even know how I got so sucked into this stupid 3-D chat program. Yet there she was – this vapid, placid doll staring back at me from across the computer screen – almost daring me to dress her up, a smug smile plastered across her two-dimensional face as if she knew, even way back when, that I would be addicted for life (even though I sure as hell didn’t know it at the time). I clicked on the anodyne ad, and off we went.
I was instantly whisked away to this nether world in such a rudimentary fashion as only the Internet can provide, and I was hooked almost immediately.
There, at last, was freedom (even if it was just freedom from myself). At last, I could breathe! At last, I could be both actor and director – a thing I had so deeply desired; I could be the Master of my own, perverted little domain, succumbing to each and every whim my fickle heartdesired.
And that was where I got caught up – with what my heart desired. I had never really taken into account, that even after I turned the monitor off – when all the sex was done and gone, and all that remained for me to do was to bumble through the daily rituals of the humdrum, mundane life to which I had grown accustomed – that I would want something more. More than a pornographic outlet for my basest of earthly desires. I was missing something. I wanted more.
I wanted love.
“A Close Encounter of the Second Kind”
I even named myself something eloquent – something “learned” that sounded ‘cool’ and ‘unkind’ at the same time – because that’s how I felt back then; like everything around me was crashing down, and it was my fault. Like Midas and his cursed “golden touch”, so too, was I – with my wit and charm. I was the sea nymph Scylla – perpetually lurking; luring men (and women) to their inevitable deaths with my siren song.
I raided many rooms, (re)imagining myself to be a fabled vampire, a Gorean slave, a temptress, seductress, even whore… whatever. I was always ready and willing to give my A/all to another in order to stoke my own self-absorbed, egocentric ways of thinking that made Me “The Center of the Universe” (or at least Of Mine on IMVU)… until I met him.
And then, I couldn’t breathe anymore.
“A Close Encounter of the Third Kind, subtype E*”
*An entity is observed.
Somehow or another, I became some-what of an internet porn star, or as much of one as can be said of a three-dimensional rendering of one’s own, mutable self. I basked in the glory of being able to turn men on at the drop of a hat (or, at the drop of my panties, as it were) by merely typing words across a screen.
It was incredible; it was validating. I felt powerful! It was highly intoxicating… and arousing. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, a confidence grew – I was a sexual goddess, and I was on top of the world (meanwhile, straddling its proverbial cock). I was invincible. There was just one tiny problem. It wasn’t real.
I don’t know why, istanbul escort but people on IMVU have this nasty habit of “getting married” – complete with the requisite invitations, extravagant gown, and a public affair to die for. At least virtual currency runs fairly cheap! Anyway, it was all just a big publicity stunt (at least in my mind) that I had never really quite understood, but secretly wanted to be a part of. I mean, what fun would this be to continue a fantasy life with someone you love(d), and to show your commitment to the world* (which is no *real world at all, let’s be honest).
And as the invites flooded my inbox (I was popular…), I found myself curiously drawn to these imaginary spectacles, even securing myself a “date” with a mutual friend of the bride-to-be (just for fun of course, though I was already quite fond of him, but… none of this was real, right?)
It’s just a game. Just some stupid-ass, grown-up collaboration of bored quote unquote adults who all have “real lives” that they pass through – each one on the fringe of their own, personal, alternate realities. Going through the motions of some other past life, I suppose. Or, maybe we’re all just that fucking bored. I dunno.
But he was cute (or so his avatar implied), and he always tipped me well whenever he visited whatever strip club I was working at the time. We always had a great time together, and he was personable, to boot, so what did I have to lose? What did I, indeed.
It was so innocuous at first – that green-eyed monster – that I didn’t even notice until she had already taken ahold of me. How could I be jealous of someone or, really, some thing I never claimed to have wanted in the first place! But She persisted – the insidious snake – her precious coils constricting around my heart as I began to see what everyone else got to have, and I didn’t.
We ended up having a good time at the wedding, he and I, but something had changed, something deep inside of me. I think that might have been the night I decided I wanted to marry him (at least in a virtual sense). And probably, too, the same time he told me “No,” for which he gave a perfectly reasonable explanation, and yet – the rejection had crushed my heart no less.
I was already falling head-over-heels, madly in love with him by this point, and had even worked up the courage to start talking to him on the phone. His voice (oh God, his voice!) drove me insane with desire. I immediately yearned to hear those words whispered in my ear, not to be separated by hours and kilometers, but by nanoseconds and microns.
Years (literally years of real life) progressed and passed us by. I trusted him enough to video chat one day, and I remember being absolutely fucking petrified the first time – my mouth dry, my body trembling… my voice – barely audible. (Though to be fair, I’m not so sure we did much “talking” in those early days, such was our adrenaline-fueled love affair.) And it was a love affair.
And when my heart could take it no more, I professed this love to him, only to have it returned in kind. This is what I had wanted, what I had so desperately longed for, and indeed needed for so long. It was such a relief, but, also terrifying. We were in uncharted waters here, and I had so much more to lose than my head and my heart. I had finally reached my emotional critical mass, and there was only one thing left for me to do – to take the plunge, and meet him in real life.
I was nose-diving head first into the great unknown, and there was no turning back now. I’d flown half-way across the country to once again have my breath taken away. Only this time, it was real.
“A Close Encounter of the Fourth Kind”
Yep; that’s all it took. A slight grin on your face, and that ever-present twinkle in your perfect, sea-green eyes, combined with the strength and conviction in your voice, and I come instantly unglued. The anxious, trembling, stumbling-over-my-words kind-of nervous wreck, like a timid teen trying to work up the courage to ask their crush to a dance. Words! How do!
Speak, woman!! Goddamn it…
Not for the first time in my life with you, any eloquence I may have previously tried to retain went right out the window. I fumbled through a, “Hey, yourself!” and at least managed to keep my mouth shut as my brain screamed, “Tell him ‘It’s nice to finally meet you in person!'” No, don’t say that!! You idiot…
My brows furrowed with frustration, and I immediately began to chew on my bottom lip – an old nervous habit. I could feel you gazing softly in my direction, expectantly. I suddenly felt very foolish, all dolled up in my babydoll tank top and little black skirt. What was I thinking? Or rather, what are YOU? I chuckled and tried my best to fake my nerves away, opting instead to say, “You look great, by the way!” (which, you most certainly did!)
With a sudden surge of new-found confidence, I stretched my arms out wide as an invitation for a hug (being fairly certain we’d crossed the familiarity threshold for a firm handshake a long time ago). But as soon as you began to walk toward kabataş escort me, that surety gave way to trepidation, and I was transfixed once more. I closed my eyes and I inhale as I feel your stolid body press against mine, our outstretched arms wrapped firmly around one other, and I hold on tighter than I ever have before – never wanting to let you go.
“A Close Encounter of the Fifth Kind”
I don’t know how long we stood there, locked in our embrace, but I do remember how it felt. I’d imagined this moment a thousand times before, and yet somehow, now that it had finally arrived… it transcended everything. Just to bask in your glory, your strong arms around my body – protective and warm… I could have lived in that moment forever (though I’m pretty sure that’s generally frowned upon, especially in public).
“So do you,” you murmur approvingly, and my heart skips a beat once more.
Grudgingly, we untangle ourselves, but not before your lips graze that magic little soft spot behind my ear, and I am putty in your hands. Fuck coffee.
I slide my thumbs down your forearms, interlocking my fingers with yours, bringing one hand up to my lips to kiss your perfectly calloused palm. I long for your touch. Pressing your hand against my cheek, I gaze up at you adoringly.
You’re a bit taller than I’d imagined, which makes me chuckle slightly, and my thoughts wander off to other things, not quite as pure and innocent as this tender caress. I’m pretty sure you know exactly what’s on my mind, too, because before I can even manage to say anything else aloud, you ask me if I’m ready to go, to which I emphatically nod, then quickly turn my face away in a desperate attempt to hide my now bright-red cheeks. Too late.
You lean in and whisper, “You’re cute when you blush,” which only serves to make my cheeks flush even moreso than before.
Minutes later, I am holding your hand in the car, as the outside world zooms by in a blur. We make small talk along the way about airport security, the latest Doctor, and the new, annoying trends in superhero movies, but each conversation inevitably dwindles down to silence (which isn’t altogether awkward or unpleasant – just different for us). I’ve texted you multiple times a day for years, and yet somehow being here, with you, it’s almost too good to be true, and for the second time in recent history, I’m at a loss for words.
At many different points in my life (probably more than I even care to admit), I’d imagined what our first time would be like. And in almost every one of these scenarios, you’ve had roommates. I’ve often daydreamed about stealing away in the middle of the night, only to wind up at your doorstep, fresh-hewn tears streaming down my face as you whisk me inside and give me refuge from the emotional undertow that is my life, and we’d hide away together like lovers often do. But this is different. A warm and radiant, afternoon sun beats down on us as you fumble for your keys to your own apartment. I am mentally willing those keys to hurry the fuck up and find their mark so that we can go inside; it’s just a little bit too bright out here.
“Welp, here we are!” you announce, as you heave the front door open wide, stepping aside as you invite me in. Your smile is even more dazzling in person, but your eyes now seem less sure than usual. Somehow it gives me extra comfort to know I’m not the only one who’s nervous here. I duck my head and shuffle in, mumbling a “Thank you,” as I pass you by. I hear the door close softly behind us. Finally!!
I try to take deep, calming breaths as my eyes slowly adjust to the dimly lit interior. Water, I think to myself, Need. Water. And almost as if in direct response to my unspoken request, you lead the way towards the kitchen, but as we pass through the entryway, I am instantly made aware of something else.
My painting – the one I’d given you a few years back (not because I had made it for you, specifically, but rather, because you had inspired me to get back into painting in the first place) – was hanging predominantly above the microwave, on display for all to see.
I am momentarily taken aback, and am deeply humbled by the gesture. It was as if you had peered deeply into my soul and had found that which truly mattered to me, and then had validated it – completely. You saw me.
I can’t hold on much longer – this tempestuous tide of emotion was threatening to take me over. I turn and bury myself in your arms, clinging to you for dear life. “I love you, too,” you whisper, and I am yours.
“A Close Encounter of the Sixth Kind”
Unlike what my chat handle would imply, I am not built like a Grecian goddess, not in any classical sort of sense, at least. But then again, neither are you. Yet somehow we just fit – perfectly, imperfect, together.
I push you away for a moment, just so I can regard you for the fine specimen of man that you truly are. My eyes rove over your entire body, mentally undressing you before my hands can follow suit. I want to take my time, and kadıköy escort savor every moment. I want to make this last.
The Dr. Who-inspired t-shirt you were sporting today had not gone unnoticed, and I take the opportunity now to trace the outlines of the beautifully silk-screened TARDIS, pressing my delicate fingertips across the coarse cloth into your soft, supple skin. I want to touch you.
Gingerly, I trail my hands downward to your hem, tugging gently at the stubborn fabric as we begin their slow ascent back up your torso. You let out an audible sigh, and relax against the doorframe – raising your arms up in a dogged attempt to make this easier for me.
I cast the rumpled garment aside and lean into you, my hands firmly placed upon your hips. Mmmm God you smell so good – the perfect bouquet of crisp linen and sweat, and I inhale – your scent is intoxicating. I nuzzle against your solid frame, whispering, “I can hear your heartbeat!”
You languidly open your eyes – lips parted in a half-exasperated, half-pleasured smile, and murmur, “I wonder why!” My body wanders – delicate digits beginning their diligent exploration of your uncharted skin. Fuck I needed this. Slowly my eyes rise up to match yours, and we are met with mirrored desires: a thirst mere water will not quench.
And as if by their own intervention, my hands find their way to your shoulders, and I inch my body close to yours. Closing my eyes I lean in… achingly beginning to traverse the chasm between our lips… when I feel yours press against mine. My heart threatens to explode in my chest. Making small movements, we savor each other’s exquisite contours. I flick my tongue out teasingly along your lower lip, causing you to catch your breath. Pressing my tongue more firmly I part your lips, moaning softly into our kiss.
You return my passion zealously and our hands take on a mind of their own – squeezing, groping, grasping at every bit of exposed flesh and trying to expose still more. I feel your rough fingerprints as you slide your hand up my t-shirt – cupping my breast over my bra as your other hand rests on the small of my back, pulling me in so tight I can feel how hard you are already, as your growing bulge presses up against my groin. God I want you so bad.
I trail my fingertips down your stomach to your waistband, slipping my hand inside as I grasp your hard shaft over your boxers. Speaking of things that are bigger in real life! Fuck. I so desperately want you inside of me. Now.
Breaking our kiss, I begin to stroke you – slowly but firmly – rolling my hips against you as I leave a trail of hungry little kisses all along your collarbone. “Please,” I whisper, as I gaze desperately into your stunning, mercurial eyes.
Without a moment’s hesitation, you whisk away my top, and after giving my breasts another rough squeeze, you wrap you arms around me – lifting me off the ground. I giggle and squeal, immensely pleased (and also kind of terrified – this is really happening!) You heave me down the hallway towards what I can only surmise to be your bedroom, and I am unceremoniously flung backwards onto your bed.
But before I can even sit up, you’re right there on top of me, your strong arms firmly pinning me down, and this time my moan isn’t quite so quiet, nor is my voice as I half beg, half order you to “Please – fuck me!” And you oblige.
I have officially died and gone to heaven.
“A Close Encounter of the Seventh Kind”
You growl a little at me, playfully at first but with a little bit of menace that makes my spine tingle. Suddenly parched, I bite my lip, and urge my hips up to meet yours, teasing your hard shaft between us. You shift your knee between my thighs, pressing against my sex and I moan again in spite of myself. Fuck, I’m so wet already. Your slow, forceful tease is driving me insane, and I writhe beneath you, trying to goad you into taking me where I want to go.
Pushing my hips up to meet yours, we grind against each other, our breathing steady and laboured, punctuated only by little gasps and whimpers as the two of us work each other up to a state of frenzy. The air itself is electric, and our hands are on fire.
Energy pumping through my veins, I urge you on, tangled beneath you in the throes of passion as your lips find their way up my neck, kissing and nibbling at my supple flesh. I groan in ecstasy, wanting your warm mouth on every bit of my body at once.
As if on cue, you trail your kisses further down, stopping to lap at first one, then the other tender nipple. I let out a delightful squeal and you flash me a satisfied smile as your lips continue their slow traverse downward still, stopping at my navel as you release my arm. Deftly maneuvering my skirt away, you pull my panties down and slide your rough palm against my soft mound, cupping me gently. I let our a heady sigh and relax as your fingers trail lazily up and down my wet slit, finding my “on” button and tracing little circles around, making my legs twitch with uncontrollable desire. Slowly inching your fingertips to my entrance, you guide first one then another inside my warm, wet folds. My breath catches in my throat as I watch you savoring my dampness. God you feel so good. You crawl back up my body, fingers thrusting deeper and deeper as you gaze deep into my lust-filled eyes. There’s a hunger there I can’t deny, a whispered, “Kiss me!” urgently passing my lips. And you do.
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