I was making love to a guy and it was… inspired, for lack of a better word. He was so delightfully responsive; anything I did to him evoked responses that just encouraged me to do more as I worked my mouth on his cock. He was moaning and groaning, writhing on the bed, his hips moving erratically as he thrust into my mouth, just mere seconds away from losing his load and I was so ready to receive it when, right before his big moment, he cried out, “I think I love you!”
If I expected him to say anything, I expected him to curse lustily as he released; as such, his words caused me to look up at him out of sheer surprise and to the extent that I barely registered his seed spurting into the air and flowing over my hand like hot lava. I’d long since gotten used to the things guys would say as they busted a nut; I’d learned not to pay attention to some of the things, learned not to bust out laughing at some of the incoherent silliness that can come out of a guy’s mouth as his sperm leaves his body… but this just really fucked me up – and then I got a little miffed because I missed devouring what was a pretty decent load of sperm.
I was so taken aback by his outburst that I couldn’t even say anything to him as his body continued to shudder through his release; okay, we’d been having a great time together and his responses – as well as his, ah, skill and enthusiasm handling the male body – ranked right up near the top of the best sexual experiences I’d had with a guy to date. Prior to the clothes coming off we’d realized that we genuinely liked each other; our personalities just resonated nicely and this contributed to a damned good sexual experience… but love?
I was still kinda frozen in place and I felt numb as I watched him begin the processes of allowing normalcy to reassert itself; he opened his eyes, looked at me and saw me staring at him and asked, “What?”
It took me a few seconds to remember how to speak and ask him, “What did you just say?”
For another few seconds, he looked at me with a curious look on his face as he tried to recall what he might have said to have me so dumbfounded – and then he remembered, a very sheepish look washing over his face as he blushed. He said, “Oh, yeah…. that…”
Did he mean it… or was it just another one of those things said in the heat of the moment? And if he did mean it – and it was entirely possible that he did – how was I supposed to respond to that? I really did like him; I’d even go as far as to admit to having a degree of affection for him borne out of the time we spent talking to each other prior to deciding that we should take things to the next logical step – and we’d been talking for weeks and not just merely hours.
“I didn’t mean to upset you or anything but, wow, when the sex is that good and I know I really like the person, um, stuff like that tends to come out of my mouth,” he said, blushing an even deeper color of red. “But I don’t say that to everyone, if you know what I mean…”
I had to admit that I didn’t quite know what he meant but, yeah, I was very much aware of how… different a sexual experience can be when you more than just like someone. His words bothered me and, then again, they didn’t; it hadn’t been all that long ago when I heard those words coming out of the mouth of a man who really did love me; with the speed only possible by the human brain, I relived the joy and the pain of being in love (and being loved) by that man in a matter of mere seconds and I knew that I just wasn’t “ready” for another guy to be really be in love with me and I sure as hell wasn’t ready or maybe even capable of reciprocating in that fashion.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t apologize,” I said after blinking back into the here and now. “If that’s how you feel, it’s how you feel.”
“Now that, ah, my head is clearer, I don’t know if I really meant what I said. I know I like you more than just liking you and, Jesus, I had been hoping that when we got around to making love that it was going to be as good as I thought it would be,” he said. “And it was, too, by the way.”
All I could do was smile at the compliment and acknowledge that, yeah, it was damned good and close to being as good as it had been with the man I loved not that long ago. I think what “scared” me was the thought that we weren’t finished with each other yet and I could reasonably assume that when he was ready, he was going to bring the noise to me with a purpose and, damn, it was possible that the power of sex could make me say the same thing to him and even make me think that I did, in fact, love him.
He did bring it… and, no, I didn’t announce that I loved him but I really did understand how it was possible for him to have done and said that. I don’t know about anyone else but I had learned early on that sex carried a great deal of power, that it could easily override one’s common sense and make it damn near impossible to think logically, and that one can easily find themselves riding a tidal wave of emotions. I even began to understand – at that time – why some people were so… reserved when having sex; you could just tell that they were in the moment but not so much because they were afraid of losing control of themselves and to the point where, yeah, you could feel love for the person you’re with even though all the other “prerequisites” weren’t in place. The “bad” part is that once you are induced to saying such things, you can’t exactly take it back anymore than the person you said it to can “unhear” it or simply ignore the fact that they heard it and even in such moments, it’s easy to chalk such utterances up to being in the heat of the moment and nothing more than that.
We took a much-needed break to refuel and rehydrate before getting into it again; I hadn’t exactly forgotten what he had said the last time but I started in on him as if I had wiped the prior moment clean from my slate, if you understand what I’m trying to say. It wasn’t like I was dismissing what was said as if it hadn’t been said but it was more like, “Okay, let’s start over again…” – this is kinda hard to explain, let me tell ya. It’s like a reset, where you kinda put what happened before out of your mind so you can focus on what you’re about to do now… or something like that. Anyway…
As I went about pleasuring him, teasing him, getting him really hot and bothered, I was very much aware of the fact that my actions were being driven, in part, by what he had said to me; I knew that I was feeling more affection for him than I had before any of this got started but this, too, was kinda “set to the side” so I could do what I wanted to do. It’s a weird state of mind and perhaps one that most people aren’t really aware of… but I was aware of it; my actions were being driven by lust and affection and I wasn’t really “analyzing” it… but I was… but I wasn’t… but, anyway, I had worked my way down his body so I could get to work on his cock again.
Just like the fist time, oh, man, he was so damned responsive, fucking into my mouth and grinding his ass on the finger I had inserted into him… and repeatedly telling me that he loved me. Have you ever tried to unhear something? I heard him loudly and clearly and I even remember thinking, “Oh, shit…” but I shunted whatever I was thinking about to the side so I could concentrate on making him cum in my mouth – and since I missed it the first time. As he came, I almost choked on his load to hear him saying, “It’s true, oh, God, it’s so true!” I had no idea what he was saying to God and I was way too into draining him dry to give much thought to it other than it being rather funny at the moment.
I slipped on a condom, opened his unresisting legs wider and, as we had agreed upon before any of this had taken place, slid my hardness into him; as he wrapped his arms and legs around me, I had a “pissy” moment because the agreement was for me to fuck him but he wasn’t one of those guys who liked to do some fucking of their own… but the moment passed and, well, I fucked him and was quite lost in the moment, feeling my body against his, feeling the waves of heat flowing from both of us… and with my head next to his, listening to him professing his love for me. It was comforting and disconcerting all at the same time; it reminded me too much of the man I loved and the moments spent being inside him and wrapped in his embrace, hearing him telling me how much he loved med and how much he loved what I was doing. Still, I knew that I didn’t love this guy I was screwing; I liked him a lot which made what I was doing all the better and it got even better when he told me to lose the condom because he needed to feel my sperm in his ass… and better because I wanted and needed him to feel it as well.
I was totally lost in my release, those very intense feeling pretty much kicking my ass – it really does make a difference to not spill your load into an unfeeling condom – but not so lost that I didn’t hear him say, “Yes, I think I do love you…”
After we got all cleaned up, we sat and talked about his words to me. He told me that even though he did feel that he loved me, he also understood that expecting me to be in love with him was, realistically, an unreasonable expectation… but knowing this didn’t stop him from expressing his feelings. “I know people can say some shit in the heat of the moment,” he began, “But I’m not in that moment now – I feel damned good but I’m thinking clearly now and, yeah, I think I do love you.”
I just didn’t know what to say. It was flattering and a little scary and while I had learned that, yes, it is possible for me to love another man, I somehow knew that I’d never learn how to love him and I really felt bad about that because if someone loves you, aren’t you suppose to give that love back to them? Of course, that was before I learned a great deal more about the power of love and all that but in that moment, um, yeah… I just didn’t know how to deal with this. I somehow knew that telling him that I didn’t think he really loved me as he said was stupid: How could I tell him what he wasn’t feeling? I could have told him that it was just the great sex talking but I knew better than that; sometimes, it was just the sex that would cause a man or a woman to say this… and sometimes the sex was just the icing on the cake, the confirmation of what feelings were present before the sex even took place.
He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and said, “It’s okay if you don’t love me – I’m sure that I love you and that’s good enough for me…” And I guess it was for the both of us; it didn’t stop us from hooking up with each other when it was possible and, eventually, it became less possible when he moved himself and his family to another state because of his job. I remember feeling some kind of way about that; it was just my bad luck that every time I found a guy who’d make for the “perfect” boyfriend, something always happened to fuck things up.
And life, as it tends to do, just went on. We stayed in touch for a while after he moved and I found that I did miss him and not purely because of the great sex we’d had together. Where I felt such great affection for him, he said that this was still enough for him and that he had “confirmed” that his feelings for me were very real… and I was okay with that. Today, I still wonder what might have happened if he had stayed and we kept seeing each other on a regular basis and I can’t say that I would have learned to love him or not… but I can recognize that the bond we had could have made it possible…