PR and I had a lovely dinner and topped out night off with a scary movie marathon. When we were sufficiently scared and tired, we went to bed.
I purposely turned off my alarm that night because there was nothing pressing to wake up for in the morning. We could sleep in and enjoy each other’s company in my uber comfortable bed.
I liked sleeping with PR. We snuggled and cuddled before finally dozing off. He didn’t wake me throughout the night with tossing and turning like so many others do. We slept well together. Of course, in the morning, we shared more than just cuddling or spooning. There was still plenty of snuggling, but things escalated to a new level with the discovery of his matching morning libido. We didn’t have “sex,” as in we didn’t have penetration, but we did just about everything else.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. While our mouths went wild exploring every inch of each other’s bodies while our hands enjoyed the touch of skin in symphony. I was constantly lingering at his back door as well. I was testing his limits. I wanted to see how comfortable he was with me back there.
He even mentioned his interest in bottoming for me, but it wasn’t going to happen immediately. He needed to warm up to it first; rightfully so, considering it’d been years since someone penetrated him. I was willing to be patient. I was just concerned that it would happen at all. His willingness to play ball in down the road was reassuring.
It was late when we finally motivated ourselves to get out of bed. I think it was our grumbling stomachs that finally inspired us to make moves. I cooked us another breakfast while he sat on the island chatting with me. I was getting used to having him around, and I liked it. He was a very caring and sweet guy — A hopeless romantic much like myself.
After we ate breakfast, we cuddled a lot on the couch. I was still horny from the morning romp and started to get frisky, pulling down his shorts and exposing his ass. He was getting a little bashful since we were in front of my apartment widows with the street below, but chances are no one was able to see him. At one point, I even completely removed his shorts. It was cute watching his bashful squirm. I was starting to get off on it.
We decided to go to the gym, so we finally picked ourselves up off the couch and went to the bedroom to get ready for the day (now that it was about 3:00). Of course we didn’t simply get changed and head to the gym. We got frisky once again as I pulled him onto the bed. He certainly wasn’t complaining.
My motivation to have bigger biceps finally overtook my sexual desires, and I suggested we finally get ready for the gym. He went home to change, and I got dressed. He was starting to take a long time, so I told him I’d just see him there — I was on my way.
I nearly finished my workout before he arrived. It was slightly awkward cause I wanted to kiss him when I saw him, but I didn’t want to make a scene. We had plans to go to a Super Bowl party together, so I told him I was going to head home to shower and get ready. I implored him not to doddle since I didn’t want to arrive at the party after the start of the game. He assured me he’d be ready in time.
Once again, he was running behind, but after hopping in a cab, we arrived at the party just in time for kickoff. A lot of my friends were there, so I introduced him to everyone. This was going to be a test. He would he interact with my friends? Would he be outgoing? Would they like him? I care a lot about what my friends think of the guy I’m dating. I was trying out a new strategy this time around. I was introducing him to them much sooner than guys past.
The whole time, I sat next to him on the couch watching the game, I wanted to hold his hand or have him sit in front of me in my arms, but it wasn’t that kind of party. I would keep my hands to myself. I wanted to jump his bones the whole time we were there. I was showing restraint however.
When the game ended, we walked home with D. The majority of the second half, I kept expressing my desire for cake, so we decided to stop at the A&P and grab something. D got some cake as well, and since he lived nearby, we made a pit stop at his place to relieve our bladders and snag a bite of his cake.
PR came back to my apartment to share the carrot cake I bought for us. While we walked, he asked me the most forward question any guy on a date has ever asked me: “Have you ever had any STDs?” I paused for a moment in shock. I indeed did, and it was an embarrassing story. I wanted to know if he equally shared in my shame before I would volunteer that information. He told me he did, so I explained the time I contracted chlamydia. He then recounted the story of the time he got crabs. It was a bizarre but interesting conversation.
While we ate cake, we discussed zodiac signs. We looked up each of ours and checked the compatibility. I don’t believe in that sort of thing, but it was fun and something to pass the time. We moved things to the couch to relax and discussed everything. I told him about all my exs and he told me about all his. We sat there talking until we realized it was 2:00am. I asked him if he was going to stay the night, and he graciously accepted.
Sleeping with him just felt so right. I was happy to have him there. He was a good guy, and I was really enjoying his company. I liked where this was going, but his future was a little uncertain. He was applying for numerous jobs and attempting to figure out a more permanent living solution. For the meantime, we were meshing so well, and I was enjoying every minute of it.
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Wednesday night arrived. It was “date night” for San Francisco and I. We were meeting in the Castro to grab a drink and maybe some dinner together. It had been a while since I’d seen him last, and we were due for a catch up.
Since work was paying, and I was too lazy to learn the public transit system in San Francisco, I decided to take a cab. We arrive in The Castro neighborhood, and I witnessed the largest rainbow flag I’d ever seen in my life. The only thing I could compare it to (for the Americans in the room) is the giant American flags that adorn the poles in the parking lots of Perkins across the country. If you read my blog, you know how much I’m not a fan of the rainbow. However, I’m embarrassed to admit, the sheer size and presence of this thing actually made me a little proud.
I got out of the cab and met him on the street as we exchanged a hug and a kiss. We made our way to Badlands just up the street just in time for some happy hour specials. We caught up on the other’s dating life over the past few months. I learned San Francisco is currently casually dating someone. In the back of my mind, I’m very happy to hear this news. I didn’t want things to escalate beyond drinks for us, and this news was reassuring.
I told him the abbreviated story of Smiles and what I did on New Year’s Eve. He was a little surprised, but certainly didn’t judge.
As the alcohol flowed, his emotions escalated. He became much more affectionate, and even started to get a bit hot n’ heavy. I just went along with it. I had no emotions attached to these actions. I was fully over San Francisco. I tried changing the subject so he wouldn’t keep putting the moves on me.
He talked about the possibility of moving back to New York, but said it would be very different this time around. He’s a completely different person. Everything he was saying were basically the reasons why I ended things with him. It was as if he’d read the blog. (To my knowledge, he still does not know about the blog).
We started talking about his dream of opening a bar in Hawaii. We talked a great deal about even the smallest details in his dream. I suggested a name for his bar, and he immediately fell in love with it. He even went as far as to register the domain immediately from his BlackBerry. I told him how to do all this with my advertising background and knowledge and my recent experience of purchasing my own domain for this blog.
He then brought up the possibility of checking out a drag show that evening, but then he remembered it wasn’t my thing. Instead, he suggested we grab dinner at one of his favorite restaurants.
The meal was spectacular, and it wasn’t that expensive. I was also introduced to one of his friends who is a server there. As the night went on, San Francisco grew more and more inebriated. He wasn’t’ too much to handle yet, but he was drawing closer. He started growing louder and more indignant.
When the bill arrived, I think he thought I was going to take care of it. I think he thinks I have an unlimited expense account (which isn’t the case at all), when in reality I paid for his meal the last time I was out there because I wanted to thank him for hanging out with me that night. We split the check and made our way for the door.
The whole time, I was trying to send a pretty clear signal I wasn’t interested in hooking up that night. I was failing. He asked if we should go back to my hotel or hit up his apartment. Then he answered his own question when he realized how close to his place we were. Again, I just went with it. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t just go home. I think I thought I could get him home and then say goodnight.
While we rode in a cab to his apartment, he asked me about the stuffed animals and orchids he sent me for my birthday. I explained that was over nine months ago. I was lucky I kept the orchids alive for six months. As far as the stuffed animals, I told him I gave the mistaken monkey away, but I still had the bear (of much more significance) at my parents’ house.
When we got to his place, I met his roommate for the first time. One had only seen me on Skype and heard lots about me, and the other had never met me. Ironically, the other share the same unique name as me and joined on as a roommate shortly following our breakup. I’m not going to lie; I thought it was a bit weird.
When we finished tormenting the roommates with S.F.’s drunken antics, we went into his room. It appeared I was spending the night. However, it was just going to be that. I was not having sex with him.
Of course the makeout session ensued. I thought to myself, “At least he’s a good kisser.” Then the makeout session morphed into more passionate actions, and I found myself with no clothes on. S.F. put me in a position to begin to penetrate me, but I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. I kept casually squirming so it wouldn’t be possible. He kept gently trying, but I wasn’t going to give in. There was no way in hell I was going to have sex with him, but I also knew I was dealing with a drunk man. I gently whispered into his ear, “Let’s just spend the night together.”
With that, he rolled over into little spoon position. I curled up with him and went to bed. In the morning, when my alarm went off for me to head back to my hotel to go to work, I found myself with his mouth on my “morning excitement.” I had forgotten how good he is at that. It didn’t quite matter. I wasn’t in the mindset to finish with him, and we know how difficult that can be even when I am in the mindset.
I got dressed, and he remained in bed. I could tell he was disappointed, but I didn’t care. I was not going to revisit old territory.
I didn’t hear from him until much later the next day. He told me how hungover he was in the morning, proving to me how drunk he was. He asked what my plans were for the remainder of my trip, but we didn’t discuss meeting up again while I was there. I was happy to dodge that bullet.
I let things go further than I wanted, but at least I didn’t hurt his feelings too harshly in the meantime. In my mind things wouldn’t quite be the same for us going forward. No longer did I feel the urge to call him just to chat, which is sad. It appears I have collected what pieces of my heart I left in San Francisco…
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