4am and Graeme couldn’t stop thinking about Mari.
Not the usual thoughts of fucking her every way he could imagine plus the few extra ones that she’d suggested. Positions that he had never imagined never mind tried. Some of them verging on yoga practice or a game of naked twister that had went badly wrong.
He went along with them, he would have done anything to please her. Even although he found these acrobatics over complicated and completely missed the point as she never actually orgasmed and they always finished in a simple more natural position and more often than not the closeness and contact from straight missionary just worked.
It had to be said, he enjoyed the experiments, it was fun to try out new things but in reality he couldn’t really be bothered with it.
He briefly smiled at that remembering their discussions about the difference.between making love and straight out and out fucking for pleasures sake.
Ironically despite her desire for advanced acrobatics, she preferred to “make love” or so she said but that was only true until she was lost in the moment of passion and then all that female idealism disappeared somewhere between the 69 and the 70.
What’s the 70?
Same as a 69 only …
They’d laughed at the old joke.
It has to be said, she is one filthy durty sexy gorgeous woman.
She knows how to turn a man on and she knows what she likes in return, lots of it and give it to me hard and fast as you like please.
They’d agreed, despite her actions, making love won they day, but he warned her that while she was from Venus he was from Uranus and if he occasionally called it fucking then her Babel Fish should automatically translate it to “making love” cos that’s what he meant and apologies in advanced if she misheard differently.
4am and he’d already had his 5 minutes think about her, his head full of images from their past liaisons and thoughts of her flashing through his head.
Despite the complicated positions it was the simple things he remembered, her lying on the bed naked with her legs wide fingering herself telling him to masturbate over her and not allowing him to touch her until they had both came together him coming over her breasts or tummy then she would suck him until he was hard again which never took long.
With hindsight although that was simple enough and the image of her lying there with her white tan lines and pink pussy lips open and exposed turned him on. It was a complete mind-fuck that she wouldn’t allow him to make love to her despite their bodies screaming out for that most human of touches.
But lying in the darkness on his own he preferred that image or the image of her sitting on top of him smothering him with her breasts to any of the complicated nonsense that occasionally followed. Keeping it simple just worked in practice or in his fantasies.
The simple images always made him come quickly and he’d normally be sleeping again within minutes of taking himself in hand.
But tonight he was restless, he’d already masturbated twice, once before he went to sleep and minutes ago trying to get back, but this natural tension release hadn’t been enough.
He’d tried to play it cool, tried to pretend that he wasn’t too bothered but their calls since Sunday and her faux passé about her ex had been brief and not their usual 2 hours in the phone putting the world to rights then although they’d said they wouldn’t finishing with phone sex sometime after 1am. That usually got him a peaceful nights sleep.
On Sunday night she’d said she was tired, he understood that, he was tired too. They’d had a fantastic day and night together Saturday but hardly any sleep. So it was no wonder that they were both tired.
But last night, Monday, their usual call after their kids were in bed was even shorter. She seemed distant and their call was short and she seemed preoccupied that she’d rather be doing something else.
It bothered him, but he listened to her telling him she’d had a tough day and she was tired and gallantly suggested that she should have an early night even although he had been looking forward to their usual long chat.
She made her excuses and apologies and hung up leaving him hanging there uncertain and more than a little confused.
He played the conversation back now, there was nothing that explicitly concerning, she wasn’t rude but her responses were much shorter than their previous conversations then he realised she never laughed.
Usually she would laugh for most of the conversation. He loved making her laugh and she said that she enjoyed his sense of humour but that didn’t happen tonight. Tonight was short and business like and he wondered why.
But what bothered him most was remembering that they had arranged dinner for Wednesday but had yet to decide if it was at his or hers but when he called her back it was engaged.
4am and nothing had been said but he knew this was broken. He could feel it even although he had no concrete evidence he just knew that the relationship was over and it was just a matter of time and waiting for her to say so.
He thought about that, that he was waiting for someone else to pull the trigger and shatter his happiness. It felt weak, dysfunctional and he wondered whether he should pull the trigger first or at least take steps to protect himself.
5am and still he couldn’t sleep the hour had passed quickly.
At 6am, 4am seemed like moments ago as he lay there staring at the darkness knowing he should sleep or he’d be out if sorts, tired and grumpy in the morning.
He slept sometime after 6, the flat-lined sleep of the dead. All that thinking had solved nothing and created more questions than answers. He decided he’d ask her for answers tomorrow.
Note to reader – I started writing this at 4am, post having a wee think!!
As you do!!
I’ve not been writing much apart from diary entries recently. But I’m glad I don’t have the troubled mind of Graeme. Been there did that.
My experience is that you write about what you know. It’s very cathartic being able to put old thoughts and fears out there.
I’d recommend that to anyone.
Anyhoo it’s now 515am and time I was sleeping.