I'm walking, holding hands with my current significant other leaving the restaurant where we just had lunch. I'm walking him back to his car and we're giggly and cuddly and being cute and affectionate. But as I look up, HE comes walking by. It's him, the man that tore out my heart just 12 months ago. He is also walking hand in hand with a beautiful girl who I believe to be his flame, the one he let me loose for oh those many months ago. The same tortured, love/hate feelings pop up again and it fills my pussy with the juices only he can conjure within me. My heart's a flutter, my knees get weak and I'm light-headed. I cannot believe this is happening. It's been so long, but he looks exactly the same, maybe happier with the love of his life or without my incessant frustrating behavior bearing down on him regularly. Who knows, all I know is that this encounter is taking me on a roller coaster of emotional turmoil. I try to look away but I cannot, and then he sees me and our eyes lock. I shudder with an orgasm so intense I fear I cannot hide my body's reaction from the man that I am with. I laugh, giggle insanely to try and cover the spasms shooting up through my loins. My man is none the wiser, but the guilt of longing for another is torturing me now. It's only been a minute or two, but I feel my life is turned upside down from the glance of a now strange man walking by.
Does he remember me? Does he know what he's doing to me? Will he call my name? A dozen questions fill my head while my heart is still waiting for what will happen next. He just walked by? No acknowledgment? He strolled by as if the 5 months that we shared belonged to someone else. This devastates me, sending me into a spiral of despair. How could he not acknowledge me? Has this woman erased the etchings of our fervid affair from his memories? Do the images of my dewy flower no longer resonate in his mind? The reminiscing of our tortured connections lives only in my psyche? It floors me, but again, I must remain unaffected for I have my man standing by my side. We continue our stride toward my lover's car. We embrace, but as soon as his lips touch mine I am engulfed by the memories of the scorching lips of my former lover. My lustful yearnings take over and our normally demure kiss goodbye turns into a frenetic mix of lips, tongues and hands as I subconsciously try to recreate the passion that I once knew. My man is taken aback by my surprising behavior, but he smiles and tells me he can't wait until he gets home, mistaking the ghostly echoes of my tumultuous affair for a taste of what he believes may be waiting for him when he comes through the front door. It's not that I don't love my man. But, the dissolution of my previous relationship left me apprehensive about letting the dark side of passion slip through again, so I prefer a more tempered existence. We finally break apart and say our goodbyes, my lover off to work and I am off to my apartment, alone.
I sit in the dark, reliving the 5 months of torturous pleasures and longings. I cry incessantly, torn between being moved by the black passion that still lives deep inside me and the guilt of emotionally betraying the man I love. I relive the ecstasy and the pain of my most harrowing chapter. Those months with my ex lover were both exhilarating and arduous. He took me from the highest highs, to the lowest of lows. The fever that burned inside me for that man left me weak and broken. He showed me that my body had a mind of its own, that it seeked out the darkest avenues of pleasure. I was so innocent before him, all I knew were deviance and perversions were other people's sins. Verily, I now know that I am one of them, a so called deviant enthralled by those who torture and control. He started off making love to me sweetly, but then treated me with cold indifference. The more I wanted him, the worse it got. Irregardless, I was hooked; obsessed, allowed my body and mind to bend to his will. I could never have enough, I was lost without him, craved his touch, and longed for any attention he could spare me. I was reckless and insatiable; it was like I was infected by his seed and became a zombie, not seeking the taste of bloody flesh, but just for the taste of his flesh alone. I wanted to devour him, his lips, his skin, and his staff. I was crazed and then when the end came, it destroyed me. In an instant he was gone. I went through withdrawal like a junkie. My skin cried out for his touch, my mouth parched and missing his kiss. My flower withered nectar less. To be without him was excruciating. It took many months to become whole again, to allow myself to closet away the need for a master. To appear unscarred by the man that opened the porthole to my deepest needs.
My phone rings. I look to see who the caller is and.....it's HIM. Oh my God, it's HIM. Why is he calling me? He did remember me! My heart is delirious for a minute, engorged with the thrill of knowing I have not been forgotten. But then, I catch myself, "what does he want"? "Should I answer?" I know what I decide here will affect the health and wellbeing of my heart and my relationship. But before I can talk myself out of ruining the purest love I have ever had, I answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi", he said, "how are you?"
