inhuman

T,

Why can’t I talk about this with you?

I told you yesterday about the sex I’ve had with N. You were surprised. You thought I was going to be taking it slow. You thought I was after a relationship.

No, here we are T, here are the facts. I fucked N. No more, no less.

You were surprised. Not angry, not sad… surprised.

You wanted to know about it. Wanted to know my reasons why. I tried to talk, pedaling and backpedaling, nothing like the full truth seemed to ever come out of my mouth.

You were bruised. Your ego. You said you had thought our sex was inspiration and satisfaction enough for me.

It hurt to have you question that. After all this. Everything in this blog. But I didn’t blame you.

What could I tell you? That nothing but your cock in my cunt will do? Where does that leave me if it’s true?

This is not why N happened, is happening. What if it is? I know how wrong that is.

I couldn’t help but tell you I already missed your intensity.

As the conversation ended, you said abruptly, wow- it really is weird to think of you with someone so recently. Said you guess you’re only human.

I said, Better than being inhuman.

(But fuck it T, be inhuman, don’t let it affect you at all. Or be inhuman, be irrational and angry, cast me off. Own me, T, for just this second, for just this moment, I want this. When you respond to me right now, be inhuman, be fully mine, or be nothing.)

The feeling passed. We were us again, we were nearly theres, little grey bits of this and that. We were friends, fuckers, incompatible and intertwined. You said not to worry, that it is just that this is new for us. We just need to figure out how this will affect us.

You asked if I didn’t feel weird too. Our story goes a long way back, you said.

And I thought of ‘my story’ here that I could never finish telling. And I thought, yes it does, but what way does it go forward?

Weird is an understatement, was my only response.

I spent all night thinking it out in circles. There may be more to N or there may be nothing to N at all. Same goes for you, really.

I must have slept.

I woke up this morning and I still wanted to be in this closed empty ball of thought, under my sheets. My heart felt heavy. I put on your music for no smart reason, and crawled back in to bed. The phone rang a minute later, it was you. My heart felt heavy. I shut off your music, and picked up, throwing myself back into bed. You’d just got up too.

You asked me how I was doing, said that you wanted to check that I was alright. I chirped that I was ok, just a bit confused. The strangled cheerfulness was not me, but it was all I had.

You said you’d warned me about taking things too fast with N, that you knew a little bit of how emotional I was. Yes, I knew.

Not that I’m sayin- I’m not-you know, trying to... Yes, I knew.

It was not only N I was worried about though.

You really are quiet, you said. Yes.

Strangest thing, you said, after all that talk yesterday, I had a really erotic dream about you last night.

From our very beginning, I've felt nothing more seductive than hearing of your want for me. In all your different ‘I want you’s, I’ve felt so strongly the me in your you, the you in your I. It is not just general want for cunt. That kind of want, maybe the way it is with N, is fine, is fun, is free. But you want my cunt. Consuming. You want to feel your cock sliding between my walls. You want to hear my cries. Consuming. You want to fuck me, hear me, feel me build and cum, like you have before. So consuming. Why? Why is that so powerful? Why does it make my cunt ache, ready to be your want? You know I’ve wanted you the same way too. Can I ever admit this fully to you, how terrifying and wonderful this is, how much this blows my mind?

I wanted to moan all of sudden, but I held back. The dream is just the ego trying to reassert, I tried to tell myself. I fucked with other than it, and now it wants to fuck me more.

It is just like you though, the way you admitted this, in this darned if this isn’t the way it happened kind of way. You step over taboos with such gentle reassured ease.

I thought I might have just made it up at first. But then I thought wait a minute, I wake up, hard, pounding with this thought, that’s a dream. I ‘made it up’?? that’s what a dream IS..

I laughed, because I’ve struggled with this some mornings too. Even if it is a dream, how much of it is being remolded by our conscious self, as we try to recapture and retell it inside our mind?

It was practically a wet dream, you continued. I woke up ready to cum. I had to calm down a bit before I called you. But yeah, for a second there… I wanted to - rape you.

Your voice went quiet and breathy, a tinge of laughing shame, a tinge of laughing heat, saying that last part.

Ache. Throb. Ache.

Hmm, I said with a strained laugh, trying not to sigh. Quiet. Trying not to picture it. You didn’t tell me more about it thankfully. But I wanted you to.

You could tell I didn’t want to talk about it. You could tell actually that I didn’t want to talk much about anything. I knew I was just making this more difficult. I wanted to talk more about how I’m feeling. I wanted to answer your questions, because they do help, but everything that slipped out was just not what I was thinking at all. Or just a part of it. Short, staccato sentences with huge silences in between. I contradicted myself almost immediately, felt a panic building up, and you stopped, uncomfortable, and said, OK this really feels like you are not enjoying this at all.

I admitted that I really didn’t want to talk about this today. I didn’t want to talk with anyone about anything today.

I’m sorry, I told you, I'm just.. my head, it's not.. straight. I can't.. I'm sorry..we will talk.

You said it’s ok, though it did make it more difficult, for both of us. I knew.

Hey, on a lighter note, you said, your voice perking up, I had a really great dream!!'

That’s good, I said, smiling despite myself.

Damn good dream..

That’s good...

We laughed. Funny because I was glad for it, still am, ache or no ache.

I was still apologizing as we said our goodbyes, and you were telling me it’s ok and telling me to take care. We shut the phone.

I lay around all day… thinking… not thinking…