If It Isn’t Love…

Once upon a time, there was a girl who met a young man and found him to be, in all ways, entirely irresistible. He was attractive and funny; the easiest person in the world for her to get along with, and the chemistry they had together, well you could see it in the air if you watched them closely.

She had every intention of resisting him. There was some friend code or other which declared him completely off limits; no exceptions. But she had never been good with rules, and left herself unmistakably open to him. It took him no time at all to find his way in, but it felt like forever to her, because she had wanted him the moment she laid eyes on him.

And once they started, neither one of them could stop. They snuck around using pager codes and excuses to be together every chance they could. They would stay up late enjoying each other sexually, and wake up together in the morning to share breakfast before they would go separately about the rest of their days.

She was quickly falling for him, but the situation was so… complicated. She really didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially the people she cared about, but she wanted him more than she wanted to play it safe. So she continued seeing him, enjoying his company immensely, and not telling a soul.

One day, as she was relishing the way his body felt on top of hers, and his dick felt inside of her, she reached up and put her arms around his neck, rubbing the back of his head. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to do in that position, but his comment when she did it caught her completely off guard.

“Don’t put your arms around me unless you love me.”

“What?” She stopped moving under him, and looked at him quizzically, not letting go.

“Don’t put your arms around my neck unless you love me.”

What was he saying? Did he want her to love him? Was he toying with her? Playing some kind of game with her feelings? Why would he say that? She hadn’t learned how to read him, his eyes were always guarded, never telling her anything he didn’t want her to know. She looked hard in their milk chocolate depths, but she couldn’t see what he was up to. She decided he was fucking with her, and as she was used to playing along with him, she coolly replied,

“Maaaaaannnnn, I put my arms wherever the fuck I want,” and pressed herself up so his dick went in further as she said it, thinking he would keep playing.

“So you love me then?”

She stopped her movements and stared at him again, searching his eyes. Why was he asking her that? Did he love her? Could he? What if she said yes and he mocked her, or tried to take advantage of her feelings for him? Worse still, what if she said yes and he bailed, the truth being more than he could handle or wanted. She suddenly realized, she couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer. She didn’t understand what was happening and so she kept her response casual, “Man, I got love for you, homie.”

She didn’t let go of his neck though. She couldn’t. Though her mind formed words to mask her true feelings for him, her heart and body wanted him to know the truth. She never knew then whether he received the silent message or not. They kept pressing their bodies together hard and pumping fast and deliberately until they climaxed together into a heap on the bed.

They did not speak of love again for more than 20 years. He never again brought it up during that part of their situation; never asked the question of her in jest or frankly. His silence on the matter made her think it had been a joke, a tease, a game. But the statement itself had made her realize she had fallen in love with him, and that knowledge had her scared shitless.

Image by Steve K

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