Well, people, it’s now been over a month since I dropped the I-finally-hooked-up-with-B_-in-forever bomb on you, and I still haven’t given the juicy details, and I know you’ve been on seat’s edge, saliva-string dripping out your mouth in suspense, and I’ve been out in the world, living freely with the knowledge of said details swirling around amongst god knows what in the lofty birdcage of my imagination, and I know it’s not very fair, and so I’ll stop myself before I spiral into a sadist/masochist analogy about us as writer and reader, and I’ll get on with it. You’re welcome.
Alright… so, to catch us up from part one of the once hot and new, now tepid and not terribly un-stagnant gossip; B_ had been holding out me by not giving me any nookie after our breakup, but then I sent him a link to an article with pic of a dog with a cock-and-balls tramp-stamp that made him think of being inside of me, so he decided maybe it was time for us to get it on once again, and that’s whatcha missed on glee.
Now, excited as I was to get mounted like a dachshund/corgi mix, I couldn’t just run right over and wake him up with a blow job, now could I? Actually, I one-hundred percent totally could have, except that I had an article due, so no wakey blowy for B_ 🙁 The next couple of days wouldn’t work either ‘cause his daughter was visiting, and then some amount of days just passed, no nookie here, no nookie there…tumbleweeds blowing through my theoretically sexually-peaking vagina to the sound of a lonely, spaghetti Western whistle, and no B_ betwixt my legs.
But then he asked me and Zula over to watch some TV — suddenly, a glimmer of hope. And then, I don’t really even remember exactly how it got started, but we made out like we hadn’t made out in months — because we actually hadn’t made out in months! And it was great, and familiar and new and comfortable and thick and exploratory and can’t quite put your finger on what’s different and in the moment and satiating and this is exactly what I needed fucking brilliant!!!
And we didn’t even have sex.
Since we broke up, my confidence with B_ has been sturdy as a house of cards in a windstorm, eager to collapse at an errant text message. But rolling around in his bed that night, I never felt so sure of everything we were and were not. It was such an exploration! Different from the exploration of a new lover, because new lovers we were not.
Neither of us could believe how quickly he got me off. Twice. Evidently, all those tumbleweeds had cleared a path. He said he wasn’t even really trying, just experiencing the moment and exploring. What the fuck is wrong with us people, that we forget to EXPLORE?!
Back when B_ and I were together, I sometimes called him my king, and he called me his queen (and sometimes his slave-girl, but only when I wanted). So at one point while exploring each other so many months after our breakup, tumbling around his bed like a couple of sexy, parched, weeds, he called me his queen, and all the doubts I’d had about how he felt about me since our breakup evaporated. He still loved me. He still wished he could at least occasionally worship me and he most definitely wished I could still worship him. Of course he still wanted good morning blow jobs! Of course he wished he could come home to me and wake up to me and live out his days with me and love me forever and ever amen. Well, at least the part about the blow jobs.
At one point he said, “You understand why it had to be this way, right? Why we had to wait…” And I did. For all the frustrated tears I’d cried wondering why, I understood.
Now it’s been over a month, no more nookie, and B_ and I are both going through some growing pains. I’m not sure if our crowns or titles quite fit anymore, and part of me thinks that might be good, and part of me thinks it might be sad. I cannot imagine calling anyone else my king, but my belief that one day I could find someone else to play that role is the only reason I was ever comfortable enough with B_ to have blessed him with such a title in the first place. And he may never find another queen, either, and that seems really sad, too.
But I couldn’t feel more honored to have a friend like him, and to have played the role of his queen, even if just for a few scenes in this epic poem.
Featured Image: Flickr user woodleywonderworks via Creative Commons