It had been 1 year, 6 months, and 27 days since we broke up. But most importantly, it had been 1 year, 4 months, and 13 days since we had last made love. Back then it wasn’t just making love-no, it was exploring and finding and giving love. As I walked up his front steps, I expected no more than two old friends catching up. I was a mess per usual, evidence of my 8 hour workday in my tired eyes and messy bun. But he didn’t care, no, he never had. I found him in the bedroom, greeted by his dimples and hungry eyes. It started with a hug, a seemingly casual hug between friends. A hug turned into a caress, a stroke, a grope. My jacket, his floor. His shirt, discarded hastily. As I collapsed onto his bed with the mumbled pretense of exhaustion, I knew I wanted him. He knew, too, and I felt myself melt underneath him and his fingertips grazing my stomach. We remained silent. After months of fighting followed by months of silence ending in months of a careful friendship, we knew better than to open our mouths- for words to come out of, anyway. Somehow I found myself on top of him, reaching until I found the appendage I knew so well. Somehow his hands found my skirt, and my skirt found the floor. I pressed myself against him and felt his bulge against me. The intensity in which I felt this familiar desire for him possessed me so that I could not speak, and I felt the overwhelming urge to cry. He touched me with careful deliberateness, tracing every curve on his way down. Down, down, down, as my eyes rolled and I inhaled sharply. Longing. Longing for so long, culminating in this one night. In a bed I knew well, with a man I knew well, I came. He came, and I came again. At 3 am, I hastily grabbed my clothes and walked down, down, down the steps. I felt no regret, as the lust was instinctual by this point and there was no point in shame. Yet, I felt dirty. As though we broke some terrible rule, or went somewhere we knew we should never go. I felt empty, though my voracious appetite was filled only moments ago. It had been 7 minutes and 48 seconds since we had last made love,no- fucked, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
(reader submission)
