15. when we can- avoid

Dear T,

I remember how N showed me his cock on web-cam, the way you would for me a week later. I remember the contrast and again, my duplicity. I told N I had to hear him, because I needed the extra simulation, found myself bored, watching his hand glide in-and-out in-and-out from his base. But then how I also begged to hear you, absolutely knew I had to, the second I saw you and knew how aroused you must be.

I remember on the phone how he would begin his soulless and look-at-important-me-and-what-I’m-saying narratives. Aren’t we the coolest, the naughtiest, the worst, that is all his voice seemed to keep drumming. And the words only a monotone of and then I will move slowly up your thighs and then I will suck your clit and then I will put a finger in.

It’s not easy, I could not hold against him. What do I know after all, about talking on the phone, never mind taking the initiative? But what little I said to you was always real. A real desire. I hope at least that it felt like that to you.

It was not just his inability to create a smooth flow of words the way you could. I could not stop doubting his intentions.

I found my mind drifting as I listened to him, pushing him back again so I could be left to my own devices. I did try to guide him, like you would me I felt silly doing it. Why do you want to lick my cunt? What do you like about it? How will it feel? I tried to give it some dimension. Say what you would really like to do with me, I told him. If it is my reaction you like then speak of that, speak of what you know you want. Don't just use the ‘this one gets ‘em every time’ formulas on every girl, because in your head, getting me off is what gives you permission to jerk off in my presence.

Sigh, he was not that bad.

He was not you, I guess, and you knew this when I let him go, though I said little. You said you were glad in a way, that this had probably been good for us, given me more of an appreciation for you. I wanted to shoot you down for knowing it and for saying it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t deny it.

But N was trying I think, in the end. He obviously had some kind of imagination, he obviously had some clue of what he was doing, some potential. He just needed to tone down the arrogance, work to earn it first. He needed to pay closer attention, discern. He needed to bring himself to it rather than watch himself do it. He needed to get over himself so I could get over myself.

He brought out a side of me I did not like.