3 min read

photo: SexArt

It was the little things I noticed first. Holding the door open for me. Making sure I drank enough water after the gym. Inviting me into his shower. And when I started putting love notes in his lunchbox he always texted me something sweet. Then one day we walked downtown and he stayed on the curbside for the entire afternoon, sometimes even holding my arm. I had to mention that when we got home.

“You walked next to me on the traffic side all day,” I said. “That made me feel really good. Very close to you.”

“Yeah?” He pulled me in for a quick hug and I felt him smile into my hair. “I’m so glad you like it, baby. I love being with you.”

I pulled away and looked at him carefully. “There’s more. You’ve been… doing more things. Asking me questions. Texting me more. I love it but… why the change?”

“Does change have to be bad?” He was a little defensive.

“No, I said I love it and I do but… when my boyfriend of over five years starts doing different stuff, I just wonder.”

We were in the bedroom now, sitting on the edge of the bed. He searched my face for a moment and then went for his duffle pack, the one he always had on the motorcycle. Inside was a little packet and in that were small pieces of paper he laid out on the comforter.

“I found these,” he said, quietly. I peered down at them and gasped.

“I threw those away, how did you find them?” They were torn up bits of drawings — doodles really — that I had forgotten about months ago. “Seriously, these were in the trash.”

He nodded. “I know, baby, but the dog got into the kitchen can one night and these were in there. I thought they were beautiful and I saved them. This one’s my favorite.” He indicated an awkward rose doodle that was kind of like a pussy if you looked at it right.” I blushed.

“These aren’t good. I threw them away for a reason.” I pawed through the rest. Some bits had writing, one or two were flowery penis sketches, and the rest were line doodles that melted into words. “I can’t believe you saved these.”

“Baby, look at me.” He took my face in his hands and gazed tenderly in my eyes. “These are beautiful because they’re you. I look at these and see your secret thoughts, your little words about how you feel. ‘Protection.’ ‘Crave.’ ‘Soft.’ It’s on everything. My cock and your pussy together. The different colors you used for the flowers.” He brought one piece up by his face. “And this is a half a page of raw sex positions, things we’ve never done.” He paused. “It made me sad that you didn’t share this with me. That you didn’t feel you could.”

Little tears were in my eyes and I hung my head. “I just didn’t think it would matter. I thought it was… too mushy for you. Again, I just do these when I’m bored.” He ignored me and looked at the rose pussy drawing again.

“I realized that I had been with you so long and there was so much of you I don’t know. That we haven’t shared. And this part of you was almost lost in the trash. Baby.” He held my face again and looked at me earnestly. “I just decided I was going to pay you lots of attention because I don’t want to miss anything anymore. I want to know what you like, what you dream about.” Some tears seeped out onto his hand. I sniffled.

“But, does that turn you on? I worry that what I like doesn’t excite you.” It was hard to say those words. Always a fear of rejection. So much easier to throw things away.

He kept one hand on my face and used the other to place my palm on his zipper. My eyes widened. I could feel him. Him and the bolt of heat that shot up my arm.

We sank onto the bed, whispering and touching, clothes melting away. There was a different feeling now — sadness mixed with excitement, my very skin fragile and tender as my heart. He touched me carefully, held me firmly, even guided my hand to his naked cock.

“See what you do to me?” he whispered.

I nodded, tears at the corners of my eyes again. We kissed like that for the longest time as I stroked him, the head of his cock occasionally bumping my clit. Eventually he slid inside and I wrapped my legs around his waist for a brief minute.

“Put those back,” he ordered softly. I did and he rocked in deeper. “That’s it, baby. I want to feel you.”

He kept one hand in my hair, looking in my eyes, locked and grinding together. I started to moan and tremble. His rhythm never changed. Steady, sure, moving together.

“I forgot how passionate you are,” he said, eyes roaming all over my face. “I’m never going to forget you again, baby. Don’t ever throw parts of yourself away. I want those parts. Understand?” He drove into my pussy more harshly as I tightened around him. A few more strokes and it washed over me.

“Yes,” I cried, softly. “I’ll give you everything.”


Leave a Reply