It's difficult, no...it's damned near impossible for me to describe the sense of despair and loneliness I felt after Maxi dumped me and fled to Cleveland. In fact, I don't think that those who have never experienced that profound type of loss could ever really understand it, even if there were words to describe it. For as much as I was sickened by Maxi's behavior before she gave me the "heave-ho," I still loved her. Here's the best way I can explain it to you...one word...void. There was a part of me that was empty, plain and simple. So, let me tell you how I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and went on with my life.
Many guys in this situation often compensate for their loss with risky behavior that end up leading to even bigger problems. Unfortunately, things like alcoholism, drug addition, and other things all too often result from a bad breakup or tragic and sudden loss. Then depression and problems that are far worse ensue. I vowed that this would not happen to me. I would carry the loss with me, sure. But I had to figure out a way to move on. I had to put this void that I felt in a box, so to speak, and put it in my emotional closet. Dr. DeRosa helped me with that. Being in my mid-forties, I had too much life to live and too many things to accomplish. So, I set my sights on two things: my career and physical fitness. Honestly, at that point, I couldn't ever see myself in any type of committed relationship with the opposite sex. I had been burned twice, and was afraid that it would happen again.
How did I cope? It wasn't easy. And I must admit that shortly after Maxi moved out of my life, I did engage in some risky behavior. As you read this, I think you will empathize with me, though, that the behavior can at least be partially excused given the emotional pain I was feeling. You see, even though the woman in my life was gone, my testosterone level would now and again rear its head and demand that I satiate my sexual needs and desires. Again, I was not looking for any kind of a relationship, not even one-night stands or short-term sexual couplings. I just couldn't deal emotionally with a commitment that would last even hours or days. So, I descended into the world of prostitution.
It started out innocently enough. Every week or so I would visit our local rub-and-tug massage parlor and get a handjob, or what has become known in common parlance as a "happy ending." I became a regular. In fact, the girls there actually looked forward to my visits each week. They told me that I was not like their other clients. I was, they said, a "regular guy." They enjoyed the big tips I left for them, even though they never performed any "extra" services for me. After my weekly rubdowns, I would actually stay behind and talk to the girls who weren't busy. We would order take-out and all sit around talking about stuff. Whose kid was sick, whose ex-husband refused to pay child support. That kind of thing. It was just a diversion for me. I've always been told that I'm a nice guy. The girls used to ask me why, unlike their other customers, I never requested a blowjob, or a good fucking once in a while. There were all very willing and actually competed with each other. I actually heard them remark on one occasion that they had bets on who the first one of them would be to fuck me. They didn't understand my pain, and I never shared my story with them. Given the business they were in, they just didn't understand the emotions that swirled around me concerning intimacy. At that time, I just couldn't engage in the intimacy of sex with a woman, even if she were a prostitute. It would have reminded me too much of Maxi. It is ironic that I was hanging out with prostitutes. Perhaps it was my way of trying to understand Maxi's world.
I had my favorites at the massage place, and I did enjoy how the girls made me feel. One girl, Betty, who was young enough to be my daughter, was particularly attentive to me. Her handjobs were extra special. She had this way of placing her hands on my cock and manipulating them so well, it actually felt like I was in her pussy. She always finished me off with what she called a "prayer." This was a pretty simple but very effective maneuver of putting her hands together as if she were praying, with my cock in the middle. It brought me off nicely every time. But it got to a point where it reminded me too much of Maxi's incredible handjob that I described in an earlier installment. Plus, this young girl, a kid really, started doing some weird shit and getting a little too close, wanting more of a relationship with me. The girls all told me that she really wanted to be the one to fuck me. In my last massage with her, when I turned over on my back, she took the sash off of her robe, which, of course, exposed her breasts. The kid, though very young, did have an amazing set of tits, the type that sloped down and hung a little and then at the bottom, curved back up, culminating in perky, stiff, deep pink nipples. While I was on my back, she took the sash from her robe and looped it around the base of my cock and balls together so that both were tied up in one loop. So, it wasn't exactly like a cock ring, more like a "cock and ball ring," for lack of a better way to describe it. She then slid the rest of the sash under my back and then up around to my abdomen, tying it off there tightly in a knot. It wasn't really uncomfortable, just a little weird. My cock was so constricted, it felt like a steel rod. She then put on this special lube - and that's what really freaked me out. Without my knowing it, she applied this stuff that can delay a guy from cumming, making your cock numb. Within seconds I felt as if my dentist had given me a shot of Novocaine right in my cock. And then she got a vibrator and started rubbing it up and down the back of my shaft. I didn't really object to it at the time because it felt kind of kinky. While she was rubbing the vibrator up and down the back of my shaft, with her other hand she palmed the head of my cock and just kept rubbing it in a circular fashion. It wasn't really doing much because I couldn't feel a damned thing. In about a half hour the sensation in my cock started returning. I think she knew how long the delaying cream would last, because right around that time she loosened the sash and set my cock free. She fisted my cock with one hand, and with her other hand she teased my asshole. Soon the pace got faster and I felt the beginnings of a spasm at the base of my cock. To say I ejaculated would be a gross overstatement. It was the weakest orgasm I've ever had, with a couple of drops of spunk just dribbling out. What a let down. When she was finished, she asked if we could repeat our massage session in front of her boyfriend because that would really turn her on. No way was that going to happen. I just wasn't into it. So, that was the end of my excursions to the massage parlor. My balls were sore for two days. I worried that I would never cum normally again. But I'm thinking that all of the girls missed me.
I started looking for other ways to gratify myself sexually. At some point, I did want to go beyond mere handjobs, especially after my last experience, to see if I could be intimate with a woman again. That led me into the world of high-priced escorts. I think subconsciously, when I went down that road, I was trying to understand again a little better the secret life that Maxi led. Well, the good news is that the masseuse with the delaying cream didn't do any permanent damage. I found that out soon enough with my first escort. The bad news is, I didn't get the sexual gratification from them that I was chasing after. After about a dozen encounters with these high-priced ladies of the evening, and after spending a few thousand dollars, I realized I was wasting my money. Whether you're spending a thousand on an escort or a hundred on a streetwalker, it's basically the same thing. The lack of intimacy and genuine feeling, sex with a prostitute is about the same as masturbation. I would have been better off saving the money and fucking my pillow...same thing. I realized, again with Dr. DeRosa's help, that I wasn't going to find Maxi in an anonymous hookup with a beautiful call girl, or a dozen call girls. It was time to face reality and move on.
And move on I did. If I was focused on my job and exercise before, I was laser-focused now. I did two things I thought I would never do but always wanted to do: ran a marathon (and finished with a good time) and wrote a book. Now, don't get the wrong idea about the book. It wasn't a tell-all on how I coped with the loss of love and all that mushy stuff. I wasn't about to share my life with the world. And I don't think anyone would have wanted to read about it anyway. It was a business book about my employee relations experiences in Human Resources that I had been contemplating for a long time. Along with the book came a promotion at my job. Things were looking up. But, despite my successes, I had no love in my life, and Maxi was never far from my thoughts. Sleeping was the toughest part. I would lie down in bed, completely exhausted from working out, but sleep would not come easy. My demons would come out and bring me visions of Maxi. She came to me in my mind just as I had described in Part 1...the cutoff shorts, tight top which accentuated her heavy breasts, hair done up in a bun, and thong sandals on her perfectly pedicured feet. Several nights a week I would jerk myself off to sleep thinking of the day she gave me my first massage. Other nights, I was just overcome with exhaustion and eventually just drifted off to sleep. I accepted that this would go on for a long time. And even with my successes in my professional life, I still wasn't able to have a normal relationship with a woman. Maxi spoiled me for all other females. But there was a change in me. The bitterness left me and I was somehow able to move on.
As it turns out, it was my book that eventually played a key part in getting my life totally back again. My publisher thought it would be a good idea to hold a series of speaking events for six of their most popular business authors. I was pleasantly surprised that I was chosen as one of the six authors. Over a one week period in mid-July we went on a tour of several eastern cities in which the book could use a bit more publicity. Each author gave a 30-minute talk about their book. After all six of us spoke, we had a book signing. Well, one of the cities we toured was - you guessed it - Cleveland. This was our last stop on the speaking tour. It was on a Friday afternoon in July. Following the tour, I was going to drive home and take a few day off.
I approached this engagement with a mix of nervous trepidation and excitement. This was where Maxi lived, or at least that was where she fled to when she left me. Would I run into her on the street? What would I say to her? Would I ignore her? All these irrational questions buzzed in my mind as I drove into the city towards my hotel downtown. Of course, these were ridiculous questions. What were the chances that I would actually run into Maxi in a fairly large city like Cleveland? Slim to none. I thought about hiring a private investigator to find her. But then, what would I do if I did find her? After all, she chose to leave me? No, I would respect her wishes to leave her alone. I loved her too much to do otherwise.
