This is a story of my brief relationship with a man who is 28 years older than me. Some names and places have been changed.
Dear Michael,
remember me? I know you do, and I’m sorry for the way it ended, I’m sorry for everything that happened afterwards, the pain I’ve caused you, the anger that struck you like a lightning, that parted your mind into pieces that hated me and adored me at the same time. They told me that your mind began playing tricks on you as soon as I left, and I don’t know wfhat else to say to that, other than I do miss you, and you do cross my mind every now and then.
We met when I was 17, and you were 45. Yet many times I felt like I was older than you, your enthusiasm was way more destructive than my pessimism, always hoping that things will be better, always pushing yourself too far and then running into a dead end. You said that the worst thing about you was the fact that at your age you were still able to get disappointed by things, people, situations. On the other hand, I was surprised when things went well, the intensity of your disappointments and my surprises was equal, and that’s how our bond began.
Remember our first conversation? When you thought that no one wrote better than Baudelaire? And you spent hours convincing me that it was the truth, reading his poems out loud, performing them, whispering them. It still makes me feel like I’m floating in an undefined space. I don’t remember anymore if it was the passion in his words, or yours, that made me push my hand between my thighs that night, that made me touch myself as if I’ve never done it before, and you were watching me although you were scared to touch me, the look in your eyes has done more than any touch ever would.
I often think about that moment. I remember staring at your crotch and feeling like it was a separate, independent being, it moved without anyone even touching it, it twitched like a pulsating organism demanding to be seen, but you decided it wasn’t the time fofr it, seeing my pleasure was a sacred moment for you, and you didn’t want to ruin it.
I was too young, you said. We should stop seeing each other, talking to each other, we should just stop everything because next time you won’t be able to control yourself. But I didn’t want you to control yourself. I wanted you close, so close that our bodies start behaving like one, I wanted you inside, on top, behind, underneath, I wanted you everywhere, all the time. And perhaps that’s what I never got to explain.
But you decided to stop talking to me and I decided to hate you with all my heart. The days and nights I’ve spent thinking of you were like a masochistic urge to be tortured by the mere thought of you touching me, kissing me, fucking me like we were animals in heat, I often thought about that pulsating being that moved and lived by its own logic, the untamed animal that somehow was still you, and I wondered what would’ve happened if you decided not to control yourself that night. I would think about all of that, all the possible scenarios, and then I would punish myself by refusing to listen to my body. I would wake up sweating, with sharp pain in my clitoris that wouldn’t go away.
The night I left was the night my remaining illusions died. We haven’t seen each other in years, we were now both older, wiser (you’d laugh at that, I know, but it’s the truth). And when I saw you at the bar all my desires came back within a second. All the thoughts, missed opportunities, everything. You looked at me shaking, your voice cracking as you got up from your chair and said: “Emma, this is Clara, my fiancé”.
You couldn’t utter a word fafter that. Life has made you a coward likedd me. I wasn’t jealous of her, yrorur sudden pfresence occupied my mind to such an extent that I forgot about meeting her, I forgot about the fact that you were engaged, all I could think of was your voice, your deep and confident voice unaccustomed to everyday anxieties, the way you said my name, the way you looked at me, as if you couldn’t believe that I FDR was standing before your eyes, now as a twenty two year old woman, and you, gosh, I wish you could’ve seen yourself in my eyes, the years haven’t changed you, your strong arms were still the only ones I would want to be held in, your hair was still just as silky and shiny as before, the way your fingers began trembling as you were typing my number on your phone made me want to lock us in that moment for eternity. But that wouldn’t have been a great story, right?
“Wanna come over for dinner”, you messaged me, “Clara would love to get to know you”.
“Who’s Clara”, I asked.
“My fiancé, remember?“
“Right. Sorry, it’s a bit funny.“
“Why?“
“I never thought of you as a married man, or engaged…“
“Well, people change.“
“If you say so.“
“You coming over or not?“
“When?”
“Tomorrow at seven.“
“See you then.“
I didn’t know what else to say, what else to do, I wanted to see you again and if that meant that I had to see her too, I was willing to take that risk. I curled my hair, did my makeup and spent hours trying to figure out which dress to wear. Red would be too obvious, black would be too simple, white would be inappropriate. And then I remembered, the olive green, you said you love that color, it is beautiful, and it matches the colour of my eyes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for who knows how long, I looked stunning but desperate, or perhaps it was just a reflection of my inner state. You could’ve avoided that bar that day or I could’ve avoided it and none of this would’ve happened, I’d stay at home, go to work, buy groceries, go out with friends, have a casual fling or two and just live in peace. But that couldn’t happen because both of us knew that that would be unjust and it would make a terrible story, or a terribly boring poem deprived of true passion.
When I finally got ready I saw your message.
“I’m sorry, but Clara had to go see her parents, her dad isn’t feeling well, she’ll stay with them tonight. I’m home, so if you still wanna come over just let me know”.
Everything that happened after that message was a mistake that’s been haunting me ever since. Why on Earth did I say yes, why did I come to your door already tipsy from two glasses of wine to help me relax. It’s been five years and I felt more tense than before.
“I made gnocchi with truffle sauce, if you’re hungry”, you said and looked at me knowing that I wasn’t hungry like that. My hunger for you conquered the warm space of your dining room, you knew what I wanted, but you couldn’t say it.
“You know what? I should leave. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place”, I said and made my way to the door.
“Why”, you asked trying not to laugh.
“Because…”
“Emma”, you grabbed my hand and pulled me towards yourself, “Emma”, I could feel the warmth of your breath on my neck.
Why, why did the temperature in the room change within seconds? Suddenly, it was too hot, I was sweating, and all you had to do was say my name.
“Emma”, you stood behind me, still holding my hand tightly, “Emma”, you lead my hand to your crotch, “touch me, Emma.”
“I can’t do this”, I tried to fight you but your grip was too hard.
You slowly began thrusting, I felt your warmth touching my back.
“Emma”, you were hungry for me as much as I was hungry for you.
“Can I go, please”, I asked, desperately trying to fight the urge to just surrender completely.
“Emma”, you squeezed my hand even harder, and then… You pinned me against the wall, still standing behind me, you lifted my dress. You repeated my name over and over again as if your mouth no longer knew any other word.
“No, not like this”, I said.
“Emma…”
“Michael…”
“Emma”, you softly began kissing the back of my neck, I got shivers from each and every move of your lips.
“Fuck me”, I said.
“Oh, Emma…”
“Fuck me.”
Your thrusts became more intense, and before I even realised what I was doing, my hand was deep inside your pants, wrapped around your warm and hard cock. I wanted to look at it ever since that night when your twitching bulge was the only thing my eyes could focus on. And now I was holding it, playing with it, squeezing it softly and releasing it when its warmth made me feel like I was about to get burned.
“I want to fuck you so bad… Oh, Emma.“
“You’re so fucking hard.“
“The nights I’ve spent thinking about this…”
I always thought of you as someone who could never be that vulnerable, but that night we both turned into a disastrous fragility.
“Shit, I need to grab a condom”, you said, breaking the stampede of gasps that ran over us.
“No, just…fuck me”, I said, I don’t know when your pants dropped to your knees, but I know that at that moment I was leading the tip of your cock to my wet pussy.
“You’re so wet…“
“Mhm”, I managed to utter.
“Wait”, you said and quickly took off your pants, then you approached me from behind again, my skin shivered as you slowly took my dress off and removed my panties. I was stuck to the wall, I felt like if I moved for a second, this moment would be wiped off and we’d be parting ways forever without knowing what it felt like to finally make our dreams come true. You had a fiancé, after all, and we were standing in a hallway of your house, her house, nothing about that was right, but it didn’t feel wrong either.
You touched me with your fingers, slowly pressing my clit.
“You’re so wet”, you repeated over and over again, pressing my clit and drawing circles on it with your finger, while touching my opening with another one.
“Oh Michael… Fuck me”, I gasped.
You enjoyed the agony that I was trapped in, you loved watching me beg for you. You placed your cock between my legs and thrusted several times, touching my clit with its tip, teasing me.
“What did you say”, you whispered in my ear.
“Fuck me.“
You entered slowly, and it just fit perfectly, my body knew it for years, it knew that if this moment was to happen, we’d be a perfect match.
“You’re so wet, holy shit”, you said.
I couldn’t say a thing, with your hot cock inside me all I could think of was how I wish for this moment to never end, “and tight”, you added and thrusted harder.
“Holy shit, Emma… you’re so hot”, you said, fighting for air.
“Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me hard.“
“Oh baby”, you grabbed me with your hands and lifted me up, “oh baby, holy shit.”
“Yes, fuck me.”
You held me tight as you carried me to the living room. You threw me onto the sofa and within a blink of an eye you were on top of me, fucking me and panting into my ear.
“Michael”, I shrieked as an intense orgasm made my body numb, and then my whole body began twitching and convulsing.
“Oh baby, you’re so fucking hot, come for me, come for daddy”, you said and another one followed.
I didn’t know you were comfortable with that, but hearing you say come for daddy just made me even hungrier, I shoved my fingers into your skin and pinned my body against yours.
“Fuck me, daddy”, I told you and you began fucking me even harder, I felt your balls slapping my ass, so hard that my skin was burning.
“Oh baby…”
You got off me and turned me onto my stomach, then began fucking me from behind once again.
“Oh baby”, you said, “Oh, Emma…”
I came once again, my muscles began contracting fast, taking you in even deeper.
“Yes, daddy, fuck me harder.”
“Oh god, you’re so hot, baby.“
You grabbed my hair and lifted me up, and I was surprised it didn’t hurt the way I thought it would.
You then grabbed my tits with both your hands as you were fucking me from behind. Your balls were now slapping my pussy, I remember wishing to tell you how good it felt, to describe it in details, but all I could say was “Yes, daddy, that’s what I want!”
You were moaning along with me and that was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Oh baby, I’m close”, you said.
“Yes daddy, cum inside me”, I screamed.
“Oh yes, baby”.
“Cum inside me daddy, breed me like the bull you are”.
You were surprised, I knew it by the way you grabbed me tighter, by the way you smiled when you responded:
“Oh baby, I’m gonna breed your tight little pussy.“
“Yes daddy.”
“I’m so close. Oh my god”, you groaned, “I’m gonna breed your pussy.”
“Yes, daddy, fill me with your cum!”
“Oh baby…”
“Cum in my pussy, daddy!”
“You’re all mine.”
“Yes, yes, daddy, I’m all yours.”
“Oh baby I’m gonna cum…”
“Yes, daddy.”
“I’m gonna breed you!“
“Yes, yes!“
“I’m”, you thrusted hard, slapping my pussy with your balls, “gonna”, your balls were huge, you thrusted again, “breed”, you went in balls deep, and then you paused, “your”, you thrusted again, “pussy”, you groaned as your warm cum began filling me inside, your throbbing cock was pulsating along with my whole body, I came once again, receiving your cum like a present I never hoped for.
“Holy shit…baby”, you groaned as your cock twitched once again.
“I could do this all night with you” I said, with your cock still inside me.
“Stay for the night. I need some time to… you know. Jesus Christ, I could fuck you until I die”, you said.
“I can’t… This isn’t okay… What about Clara?”
“About that…”
“Yeah?”
“I lied. We actually broke up.”
“What?”
“When I saw you two days ago I couldn’t get you off my mind. I realised I’ve been lying to myself all this time, I never loved her, I never wanted to marry her, I wanted you… Just you. And she noticed that. I didn’t have to say anything, she knew it.”
“How did she know?”
“When we came back home that day I was very much in the mood. And we fucked… But it was different.”
“How different?”
“She said she felt like a blow-up doll. I didn’t pay any attention to her, and she felt like I used her just to fulfil my urge for someone else. She believed I was thinking of you.”
“Were you?”
“Yes, yes I was. Your lips, your hands, your eyes, your ass, Jesus fucking Christ. I haven’t been that horny for years. And she was aware of that. And she left…”
“So you knew we’d… you know, if I came here tonight?”
“I hoped so.”
“And you lied because?”
“I don’t know, Emma.“
“So our first fuck ever was based on a lie.”
“Do you have to make things so complicated every time we meet?”
“No, this one’s on you.”
“Jesus Christ, Emma. Fuck you.”
“Okay”, I teased you with my fingers, they were almost dancing around your balls, and then your thighs, your groin, your stomach.
“You’re insatiable”, you chuckled.
“Well, our second fuck better be based on truth and nothing but the truth.”
“Yes, ma’am”, you said and saluted with your right hand.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Jesus… I don’t know.”
“What did you fantasise about all these years?”
“Nothing can get past you, huh?“
“Come on… Tell me.“
“Alright… Suck it. Gently, make love to it like you’d make love to me“, you said in a strange, shy tone.
I continued teasing you, touching your thighs slowly with my fingers. You were lying on the sofa, resting with your legs spread in front of me. I’ve never done this with a man, I’ve never done anything with a man, up until that point I’ve only slept with women, but I couldn’t tell you that. It would be too much, the meaning of this moment would become even more significant, and I couldn’t stand the idea that you might think of me, or all of this, differently. And now you were lying there, with your legs spread, the familiarity of that moment confused me and I was afraid that my approach will not please you. Women are different, at least from my experience, they’re more tactile, more gentle, a soft breeze could be an erotic sensation, while men, at least I thought so, preferred it rough, fast, almost primal. But I did it the way I’ve done it many times before with women, I softly licked your inner thighs, still slowly teasing you with my fingers. Your skin was warm, soft and it shivered as I kissed your groin, barely touching you with my lips. Your breathing became faster at some point, and I knew that was the clue. I began licking your balls, taking them into my mouth and sucking them gently, while slowly jerking you off with my hand. I then moved to your cock, licking its warm and soft tip as I, once again, watched your skin shiver. I gently stroked your balls and began sucking your cock, moving up and down while letting my tongue play with it and disobey the rules of motion. I loved the sensation of pressing my tongue against the veins on your cock, then sucking you faster, licking the tip, sucking it like a lolipop. The game we played was dangerous, Michael, because nothing and no one tasted better than you, felt better than you. I made love to your cock the way I’d make love to you, gently, passionately, and suprisingly, it felt natural, as if both of us were made for this moment, if someone else was there instead of you or me, it wouldn’t be the same, our bodies were perfectly made for each other, and you knew that.
“Oh, Emma“, you whispered.
I began sucking you even faster.
“Oh my god, Emma“, you said and began moving your hips up and down.
“You taste like heaven“, I said.
“Holy shit, Emma…“
You closed your eyes and let out a sigh:
“That’s beautiful.“
“You’re so hard“, I said, “and warm.“
“Get over here, baby“, you said and gasped.
I sat on your lap, moving my hips while kissing you, the tip of your cock softly touching my pussy.
“Oh, Emma“, you said and positioned me on top of your hard, warm cock,
“Emma“, you repeated as I began riding you, your hands holding my hips.
It began as a soft, slow, breeze, I was riding you in such a slow motion that it felt like I was barely moving, but it was so hot that no words could ever describe it. Your dark eyes were a bit dreamy, teary, and you looked at me as if nothing else existed in that room, nothing but the two of us, playing, dancing a slow dance with our casual moans as background music. You moved your left hand and began pressing my clit with your thumb, in circular motion.
“Come for me, Emma“, you said.
“How about I come for me“, I teased you and you laughed, still rubbing my clit with your thumb.
“Oh, yes, yes, just like that“, I said as a tempting tension began conquering my body.
“You’re so hot“, you said and placed your head on my shoulder.
“Oh my god“, I shrieked as I came, my whole body began convulsing and shaking, my pussy tightening around your hot cock.
“Oh baby, fuck your daddy, make love to me“, you said a bit louder, in between moans and sighs and the cracking of the sofa beneath us.
I spent what seemed like an hour rocking in your lap, moving up and down, front and back, left and right on your cock. When you grabbed me and shoved your head right above my chest, I knew you were close and I began riding you faster, but you grabbed my hips and began thrusting fast, you went in balls deep, reaching places I didn’t even know existed within my body, shoving your cock so deep I was stunned by your force.
“Oh Michael, oh my god, fuck me“, I said as you were going in faster, deeper, “fuck me, daddy!“
“Oh yes, baby! Oh, Emma!“
“Yes, daddy! Oh, daddy“, I came again and you began groaning louder and louder.
“Oh, baby, I’m close“, you screamed.
“Yes, daddy!“
“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum!“
“Yes, daddy, cum inside me!“
“You want daddy to cum inside your little pussy?“
“Yes, daddy! Fill me with your cum!“
“Oh my god, Emma“, you groaned, “I’m gonna cum… Holy shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum in that… precious, little pussy! Oh, baby, I’m gonna breed your little pussy, holy fucking shit“, your voice was cracking, “Oh, baby, I could cum inside you all night! Oh, baby I’m gonna breed your… hot… tight… little… pussy“, I felt your hot cum filling my pussy as you still held me tight. I was slowly rocking on your throbbing cock.
“I wish for this to never end“, you said.
“Damn, that was…“
“The hottest fuck I’ve ever had“, you finished my sentence, “and gosh, I’d give you anything you want for another blowjob like that.“
I laughed and licked your upper lip.
“I love this“, I chuckled.
“I love you“, you said and the temperature in the room changed again. It was too real, too much of it was going on at the same time and I no longer knew what to focus on.
“Run away with me“, you said.
“What? Where“, I asked, raising my eyebrow.
“I’m going back to Italy on Monday, come with me“, you said enthusiastically, and I hated your enthusiasm, I had a job, a family, future plans, I couldn’t just leave everything and go with you to a country where I had nothing.
“I can’t, Michael. My life is here.“
“So what? You can get a job there, you know the language. And I have an apartment in Turin. I left my family there to come here and I promised I’ll come back.“
“And you decided that now is the perfect time to go back? After, how many… Six years?“
“Yeah“, you said and shrugged your shoulders, “oh, come on, Emma. It’s not like you’re living the perfect life here, you can find a better job over there, and stay with me.“
“I can’t, Michael. It’s so sudden… And it’s not that simple to just… pack all my shit and leave.“
“How much time do you need?“
“I don’t know, I don’t even know if I want to go, let alone how much time do I need.“
“You’re telling me this meant nothing to you?“
“No… It was great, but it doesn’t mean it’s an intro to a marriage proposal.“
“I didn’t propose.“
“Let’s see… We have a good fuck, I pack my shit, quit my job, leave everything behind and run away with you to Italy, to live with you… That doesn’t sound like marriage to you?“
“Well, if you put it that way…“
“I gotta go“, I got up looking for my clothes.
“Emma, Jesus, wait a second“, you said.
“What? Why?”
“Let me at least drive you home.“
That was the most awkard ride ever: you trying to convince me to go, me trying to convince you it’s not possible, me getting mad at you for not understanding how life works, you getting mad at me for being way to obsessed with safety and stability at my age, me getting mad at you for being too irresponsible for yours. When you finally stopped the car in front of my house, I just slammed the car door and ran into the house as fast as I could. We didn’t talk after that. You tried reaching out, I would write back, but I never sent it.
Two years after our encounter I spoke to David, he told me you lost your mind. Of course, he didn’t know anything about us, but he told me that only a few days before you went back to Turin, you began drinking too much, acting insane, he told me you broke all the mirrors in your house, packed your things and left. And when you came to Italy, you continued drinking. He told me that Clara came to see you and stayed, you got back together, but you destroyed her.
“He made her cut her hair, lose weight, learn Italian and German… I mean, it’s terrible“, David said, then looked at me for a couple of seconds in complete silence, “Jesus, it’s almost like he made her look and act like you.“
“That’d be strange“, I said, shaking.
“Yeah, it would… He beats her, you know. Every now and then, in his drunken rage… He’s lost his mind.“
I don’t know if that’d be my outcome if I stayed with you, if I packed my life into a bunch of suitcases and left everything behind. Would that be my life now? Is it wrong that it’s not, just like it would’ve been wrong that someone else was in yours or my place that night? Is it my fault? You’re punishing another woman for not being me, because I, being me, could never be with someone like you, and I knew it ever since the day we met, that we were the polar opposites that could never work, and perhaps it was one of those moments where my pessimism saved me from the ultimate destruction.
I’m sorry for the way it ended, and I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.
I want you to know that I do miss you, although I cannot condone your actions.
Clara didn’t deserve any of that, she didn’t deserve it from me, from you, or anyone else.
Other people shouldn’t be hostages of our feelings or mistakes.