It had been a long time coming. I had met Jax through a mutual friend from high school, and I ended up joining his circle of friends in college. I knew him from afar for over five years, but we were never really close. The group would regularly attend music festivals and concerts together. I didn't get the chance to know him as well as I would have liked because he was "off-limits." Jax was cute, that was certain, but his girlfriend was always glued to his side, playing goalie against anyone who tried to get close to him. I knew he was friendly, sweet, and down to earth by the way he welcomed me into their group, but he was more of an acquaintance than a friend...at first.
Eventually time went on and Jax became single. Even though I was 300 miles on the other side of the state, we kept in touch online through social media. He'd visit friends in my city, I'd visit friends in his city, and inevitably I ran into Jax at a concert or two. His energy was magnetic and mesmerizing. I felt addicted to his presence. I clung onto his every word, craving his glances like I was starving for them.
I continued to follow him on social media, seeing not only his eye for photography, but his personality too. He was extremely sarcastic and made everyone laugh. But he had an intriguing intellect, as well. He often commented on my photos complimenting me. My crush kept growing, and I soon realized how truly sexy he was.
One morning, I saw a photo of his half-naked body in a pulled-down wetsuit in Manhattan Beach, after one of his early morning surf sessions. My eyes were instantly caught at attention by his v-line muscles that inevitably pointed to his surely ample package. His wet, tanned, lean, muscular body glistened effortlessly in the sun, and something white-hot lit up inside of me too. I couldn't help but wonder what he would look like without that surf suit on. That's when a crush ignited into lust. I began fantasizing about him, touching myself to his pictures, imagining his hands on my body and what he would feel like inside me.
Out of the blue, I gave him a call one day. I didn't expect him to even pick up the phone, let alone a response. I was feeling lonely and upset, and I was pleasantly surprised at the great person who comforted me. During a sad, dark time in my life, he allowed me to lean on him. He said everything that I needed to hear to make me feel better. It was then that I knew he was a truly kind and genuine person. The fact that he had been such a good platonic friend despite our geographical distance made me realize that I never got the chance to know how sweet this man really was.
His kindness only further encouraged the lust that was aching deep inside of me. But living on opposite sides of the state was a significant barrier, and I had no idea when I might see him again. For several months, we continued to flirt online, a prolonged, seemingly endless foreplay. Nothing explicitly sexual, but I'm sure he knew I was interested. I was left craving, aching to see what would happen if, when, he and I got a chance to be alone.
Then, when I was in town, I finally got my chance.
I texted him pretty late one night after I went to dinner with some friends, letting him know that I was in town. He responded almost immediately: "Come over." We were just friends, so I didn't think twice about what might happen. I wanted to see him. Though once I arrived and hopped out of the taxi, it was past midnight, and in the back of my mind I wondered if we were actually going to hang out and and watch Netflix. I told myself things would be platonic, that I was getting my hopes up, the victim of wishful thinking. But part of me hoped nonetheless...
I was a bit giggly from a little tequila I had had with dinner. I wasn't drunk by any means, a nice little buzz. Tequila gave me a boost of much-needed confidence. When I arrived and he answered the door, shirtless in his jeans, I felt my insides tighten with warm pleasure. I was actually seeing Jax, in the flesh, after ten long months. There he was, this sexy, enticing man, living up to every image that I had conjured in my head, in photos, and somehow he was so much more. I sensed his magnetic energy as soon as I walked through the door, and was immediately put at ease when there was absolutely no awkward tension. It was just us. He stood there, with that dark hair, those hazel-green eyes, and surfer-tanned skin. I quickly picked up on the fact that he was very comfortable with himself and his life. It was somewhat of a beach-hippie mentality of living in the moment. I ate it up. Jax was confident in every way, and happy to see me. Very happy, if that bulge in his jeans was any indication.
He pointed me to his room. I put my purse and sweater down, and he followed. I sat on a chair. My heart was pounding. I, no, we, were in his bedroom. He kept gushing shamelessly with that adorable smile with excitement. "Wow, Olivia, I'm seriously so happy you're here right now. I can't believe you're actually in my room, in my house!" He surprisingly took his jeans off showing a pair of grey striped boxer shorts. He goofily jumped into his bed with the carefree spirit of one of Peter Pan's Lost Boys. I giggled, I simply couldn't resist him. I adored and admired how secure he was with himself, how he embraced life, and fact that he simply didn't care how he came across. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and lived in the present of each fleeting moment.
