My whole heart

 

    Falling in love is hard I’ve heard. For me, I feel like the falling part isn’t hard, it’s the being in love part that is challenging.  I’ve been a person who was never able or willing to express their feelings, usually until it’s far too late.  And maybe I’ve never been in love at all, not really, since I don’t think I’ve ever given my whole heart to someone, or really wanted to.  Even my one major relationship I feel I was always looking over his shoulder sizing up options should things go awry with us…and naturally they did.  I’ve spent the last couple weeks collecting the pieces of my heart that had been given away, so that should I meet someone (or perhaps in case I have already met him) that I wanted to give my heart to, that it wouldn’t be tangled up in so many other past people who were never enough, and for whom I wasn’t enough, as I am.  But what if you meet someone who makes it seem worth the risk?  Giving your heart to someone is scary, but then perhaps once in a lifetime, you find a person who makes it seem worth it.  And this guy, he deserves all of me…not just whatever tiny piece of my heart was left after all the past mishaps, and that’s what I tried to give him initially (a tiny piece, with a dozen or more pieces all tangled up in other people’s hearts and energies)…no wonder it wasn’t enough for him, or for me.  Because this one is different.  He needs more from me…more than I’ve ever given anyone.  He sees all the parts of me that have scared off plenty of weaker constitutions, and he likes all those parts (pretty scary in and of itself).  This amazing man (who doesn’t like it when I call him amazing) needs my emotions, expressed out loud, and NOT in the form of metaphors.  I’m a writer, my writing thrives on metaphors that make my feelings more relatable to others.  But now, now…I need to make them more relatable to one specific person: him.  Can I do it?  I have wondered this everyday so far of knowing him—can I?  Could he be the one to teach me how to really love someone, completely and with my whole heart?  Maybe I could learn.  I knew when we first started talking that there were plenty of things he could teach me, and he knew the same about me.  We both have different lessons to learn I know, but it doesn’t mean one or the other of them is more or less important.  All of my other stories about other people are full of the emotions I had for those people at the time, but were written post mortem…it’s scary to write my emotions into the stories about him because I’m not entirely sure he feels the same, and also, I’m not entirely sure it’s over.  So much easier to write your feelings about something that has already ended, because then the only people who know them are NOT the person about whom you felt them.  And speaking of those other stories, I don’t even feel like I relate to them anymore…tried reading them last night and it made me uncomfortable since I don’t feel those feelings anymore.  I needed to write the stories to fully release those feelings, to get those pieces of my heart back, to be ready to give my heart to someone new…but now they feel false. 

            He likes when I’m vulnerable…because he really understands that it’s not something I’ve let myself be often, if ever.  Everyday of knowing him, he has found a new way to make me feel vulnerable…and it seems like I keep trying and falling just short of where I would be fully vulnerable.  Protecting my heart is a hard habit to break.  So hard…yet something I haven’t ever fully done—judging by the number of pieces of my heart that I realized were still with others prior to this week. 

            For him, I feel like I would try to change time and space to make everything perfect for him and for me…but yet, this time it feels like I don’t have to go even half that far, as though there isn’t a problem that could arise that we wouldn’t be able to get through together, without having to or needing to change what has already happened.  Our last day spent in each other’s presence, everything that happened felt like it had already happened, like I was watching a movie…all the new people I met, I thought I already knew them…all the things that happened seemed so familiar.  Maybe it was a dream I’d had so long ago that I forgot, maybe it was supposed to be a warning to not just turn tail and run…and I kept trying not to, but fuck was it hard!  But is anything worth having supposed to be easy?  Plenty of things have come easy to me, and to him as well, but if they were things meant to be thrown away, does it matter?  Plenty of things have been hard for me in my life, and the getting them has seemed all the sweeter because of it…or perhaps in spite of it. 

            So now…how do I feel?  Let’s see if I can write it, pretending that I won’t show him…if I pretend this is just for me, can I write it out?  I feel terrified.  All the things he was able to bring out in me, the way his energy fills me up with just a few touches of his strong hands, the way I can feel his energy whenever he’s thinking of me, and it washes over me like a wave trying to drown me…all of it feels so real, so tender, but that’s also what makes it feel so scary.  What am I really scared of?  Am I afraid to be happy? To be loved, since basically nobody has ever really loved me in my life?  Maybe.  I also feel safe…when I’m in his arms, when he’s near, safe to be myself, safe to be different than the crowd.  I feel inspired.  It’s been years since I’ve written anything new, and he brought that out in me by just telling me that he believed in me, that if I wrote a book and failed, so what? That I could just write another one…so weird.  Was that all I needed?  And why the fuck haven’t I been able to get that from any other person ever?  My own insecurities all on display for him, and that wasn’t what made him back away…he backed away when he saw the destructive part of me, the part that tends to ruin things that are going well.  Not that I blame him at all…but for him, with him, I don’t feel that I want to be destructive.  He makes me want to build new things, try new things…to be the best version of myself—basically me from my 20s but without all the mean girl shit I used to put people through to prove themselves worthy.  But was the test really for those people or myself?  Was I pushing them away because I knew I wasn’t a good person, and that I would never be for them what they wanted?  Most likely.  But his touch, his interest, his energy, his attention…they brought me back to life basically and now I WANT to be the version of me that I always knew I could be, but hadn’t found anyone worthy of having it, until now. 

            It scares me to like someone again.  Even more scary that I like him enough to want to let go of all the past shit, so that I could be fully his, should he want that…to be fully myself and have a whole heart to give.  No one has ever wanted all of me before, and maybe he doesn’t either, but I’ve also never had all of me to give before either.  Makes me wonder what is so different about him.  Is it his piercing green eyes that see right through my bullshit?  His gentle way with me? The way he pushes my boundaries but in such a way that it doesn’t seem like pushing at all?  Maybe the way he can calm me when I’m upset or angry (something no one has ever been able to do)?  Or is it something much more primal…like the way he can make me feel fully alive with just a kiss or a bite of his lip?  You spend so long desperately clinging onto things that are bad for you, maybe that makes it hard to want to hold onto anything that might be good for you because it feels so different.  But I’ve always been different, and maybe so has he…maybe that is what makes it feel so…well, different. 

            With him, I don’t feel the need to look over my shoulder or his for other options…I don’t want to waste my energy and time cultivating options that I don’t really want or like that much just to have an option.  I want to be able to just cultivate the one option I have in front of me…but does he want that too?  Or is he still looking out for and cultivating his other options?

            Just the way his smell entices me so much whenever it washes over me, makes me want to devour him, but also terrifies me…not wanting to lose control, not wanting to show too much interest, not wanting him to run away…it’s exciting—he’s exciting to me.  He’s endearing, and sweet, and he captivates me so thoroughly that I know if I give in even a little, it might break open the flood gates to my heart and soul, and, again, I’ve never given that to anybody.  I guess maybe that’s why it’s called “falling” in love (not that that’s what I’ve done…at least not yet—maybe one day), because you don’t step gingerly into it, you fall off a cliff into it…and I’ve never been brave enough to even get close to the edge.  Damnit! Metaphors again.  But everyday it feels like I’m inching towards that edge, and all it would take was me letting go fully and allowing myself to fully feel him, to fall.  And nobody really likes falling…the threat of falling, sure, can be exhilarating…like in rock climbing—you could fall to your death, but you know you have your ropes tied securely and, barring equipment failure, a fall is just hanging from a rope until you get your footing again.  But this isn’t rock climbing.  This is much better, more exciting, more terrifying…so much more than my favorite outdoor sport, but might not ever be. 

The lip bite that I might change time and space to see again

 

We had had a long day, fun but long, and we had just talked through our first “fight” of sorts…me and this beautiful man I’d recently had the pleasure to get to know.  Very tall, very strong, dominant, but surprisingly not in the way where he’ll yell about every little thing that gets him riled up.  I haven’t known men like that before, having dated guys more punk than sweet in the past.  But this one, while he still has a punk streak, it’s the sweet side I like best about him. 

We were walking out of the event along a wooded path, he was still seeming very nervous about our disagreement, thinking perhaps that I needed him to change somehow to be with me.  I stop him…grab his sweaty but charmingly cute face in my hands, running my fingers through his curls as I hold onto his cheeks.  “I don’t need you to be any different than you are…I already like exactly who you are.  If you ever change anything, it should be because you wanted it to change…I’m not trying to change you.  Like I just said, I like you exactly as you are already and I don’t need you to be different.”

“Promise?” he says to me.

“Promise.” I say, then he holds out his pinky.  I take it in my pinky, but then feel obliged to tell him that pinky promises don’t mean much to me, having not grown up in the generation where children were always making pinky promises.

“Well it means a LOT to me…” he bristles.

“What I mean is, explain it to me, so it will mean the same thing to me as to you.”  He softens again, and we continue walking to my car.  It was time for me to go, having other things that required my attention even if they weren’t half as interesting as being there with him.

At my car, he unlatches my belt and removes it, then he begins unlacing my corset.  Next thing I know we’re kissing again…not quite a goodbye kiss, but not quite I’ll see you again either.  Looking into those gorgeous green eyes, I get lost in his embrace and his tantalizing scent: part long day spent in the sun, part dominant male-ness, and 100% desire for me.  Interesting that you can smell someone else’s desire for you in their aroma.  We keep talking a bit in between kisses, both wondering if we’ll ever see the other again.  I study his eyes, wanting to remember every detail, especially the tiny black dots of color mixed in with his green.  Three in total: two in one eye, one in the other.  His eyes change color a lot I’ve noticed, but not until this day had I seen the black specks in his eyes.  Right at this moment they were bright emerald green—the color they go when he’s happy. 

He bites his lip, in that delicious way that drives me wild.  I could live 100 more years and never forget how that lip bite makes me feel inside: totally free, totally wanted, and completely desired.  Even writing this now, it gets me excited just thinking about it.  I put my hands behind his head again and pull him into me.  Our tongues and breath mingling deliciously with the overpowering smell of him.  His sweat runs down onto my face, like a trickle of hot desire that might just devour me.  We break kissing and just look at each other again. I run my thumbs along the underside of his eyes, wiping up the sweat that’s forming there, and I bring them to my mouth one by one licking off his delicious saltiness.  This act drives him over the edge. 

He pushes me back against the car, his hard cock pinned against me.  Then he lifts up my skirt, runs his fingers along my inner thigh…and then licks the sweat from me off of them.  I reach out, shove my hand under his pants, wanting to feel more of him.  Finding his cock, I take it out of his pants and pull him closer to me with it. 

“Fuck me,” I whisper in his ear.

“But people might see…we might get arrested.”

“What a delectable reason to get arrested.” I raise my eyebrows at him, daring him to do it anyway.  I lick at the sweat on his neck…so tantalizing, so salty, so much erotic pleasure coursing through me as I do it. 

My hand still on his cock, I guide it under my skirt and put it inside me.  He startles at the warmth, but pushes into me in spite of his worries…he lifts me up a bit in his strong arms and props me against my car, and proceeds to fuck me right there in plain view of anyone else who might be leaving the event.  Little moans of pleasure escape his lips…I clamp my mouth onto his to stifle my own cries of pleasure.  Kissing so hard and his hard cock pumping back and forth, my knees start to get weak, he grabs me under my ass cheeks to support me, pulling me back and forth on him as I fully reach climax, my fluids running all down both our legs. 

“Give it to me baby, I need it…and quick, I think someone is coming.”

He pumps faster and faster quickly reaching his own orgasmic pleasure, spraying his semen all over my insides…then his legs go weak too…and he falls onto me, pinning me against my car again.  We both look over then and can’t quite tell if the person who was leaving had seen or known what we were doing, my long skirt doing a pretty good job of covering the actual act, suppose we’ll never know what she saw or didn’t.  We both laugh a bit at the thought that she probably had seen based on the shocked look on her face.  Then it’s time to go.  His brothers had left the event also and were trying their hand at getting a girl’s number, and they were now headed directly for us.  I reach down and pull his cock out of me, and help him get it back into his pants, while lowering my own skirt again.  He kisses me again, full of the kind of abandon and passion that only comes from shared secrets, and he walks away. 

“I WILL see you later,” he says as he walks away.  “So don’t say goodbye.”

“I hope so,” I say. “Until then…”  And I really do hope that he was right, and that it wasn’t goodbye.  But only time will tell. 

the real beautiful night part 4

 

We arrived at his room both still swirly-headed from all the kissing, and he let me in.  Still determined that I wasn’t going to sleep with him that night (I managed that part), and determined to try to control the situation (absolutely did NOT manage that part, at all…like not even a little bit), I looked for somewhere besides his bed to sit and talk…or whatever we were about to do and everything seemed normal enough for the beginning. But then it started to get really weird. I don't remember all the steps...but it took some doing. Either way I ended up sitting on his bed and chatting with him...and he was still constantly saying.... "What are YOU doing here???" And I would respond with...I don't know...and then finally I realized what he was talking about...he just couldn't believe that I was there with him...like I was treat for him. ...and the truth was that I really honestly and truly did NOT know what I was doing there. He wasn't my normal type and I was nursing some really bad wounds from previous relationships. But when we kissed...when we kissed that was a whole other ball game...

But he was a very minimalist person…and there was no seating outside of the bed. “Typical of special forces guys,” I thought to myself, “don’t keep a lot of sentimental crap, so there’s less to deal with when you have to leave suddenly for long stretches of time, without a word.”

            Of course, it would happen that sitting on his bed was seen as encouragement to keep trying to undo my defenses, and the kissing began again before I even had a second to breathe or barely collect my thoughts.  I stopped trying to control the swirling head and weird random thoughts that kept cropping up in my head at some point.  Musta been just about then that the walls of his room completely fell away, transporting us to somewhere new.  And I know you might be thinking that’s just pleasure…but no, it was Ancient Egypt.  Suddenly, the entire room was gone and was replaced by a desert, and people in very strange garb.  We were in some random locale that if pictures in history books are accurate was Ancient Egypt.  People walking by smelling strongly of oils and perfumes long since used, and long since needed, thanks to modern sanitation.  Dark skinned beautiful people, wearing gold flat jewelry and half dressed…bringing offerings to what I can only assume must have been the pharaoh.  People working hard in nothing more than loin cloths, carrying, en masse, enormous cube shaped rocks to destination unknown (probably a pyramid)…vendors selling their wares…things I’d never seen before in this life, hollering at passerby that they have the latest thing that everybody needs.  All of it so real…so vivid.  All of it so familiar.  But none of it what I was actually doing at that moment…which was kissing a beautiful strong BoY.  The whole of it shook me to my core, and it all happened right before my eyes, but not quite.  When the kiss broke for a second, the desert faded, and the room returned…but my desire for him did not fade.  Though now I was feeling very terrified of what might happen if I actually did break my commitment to not sleep with him.  If not for Ancient Egypt appearing suddenly around us that night, I just might have changed my mind from all the delicious kissing.  As it was though, having a flashback from what I can only assume was a past life lived with this BoY, and with me being at a place where I only wanted a fling…I wasn’t ready.  Amazing how you can be looking for nothing and find something so real that your soul remembers it…life’s great irony I suppose.  We kept kissing after that, but it was far less passionate and far less of me being out of control, and I think I let him take off my shirt and rub me delicately, sometimes roughly, in various places…and I did sleep over.  It was late and we were both tired, and he was very respectful of my not wanting to go further that night…but I often wonder if he saw the same things, or if he was just being a nice guy.  Maybe it scared him too…and he didn’t know if he wanted to take that road…maybe he was just happy to have a beautiful woman in his bed that he could hold onto all night.  All things I never found out…but waking up cradled in his arms, I do know that I tried to convince myself it never happened.  But I’m not that stupid.  That beautiful special forces guy helped me remember another of my past lives and I’ll never forget that, but he has long since been anyone important to me.  So many possible paths in the world, all directed by the choices we make.  What would the world be like had I decided to just give in to the full weight of what he offered that night?