My name is AndrewNotChris – Part II

22 September 2017

My best friend once told me I trust too quickly and too easily. That I take people at their word, when others would question their motives. And I fall quickly and hard.

I fell for him. And after Terrible Tuesday when his web of deceit began to unravel, that was the time to end it. My self-respect demanded it. But instead I let him back into my life, again and again. And I paid for that trust with my heart.

Last night was the last time I saw him. I had booked a hotel and planned to stay the night with the Professor in the city. But when I mentioned my plans to Andrew, he told me he could see me, late after a kids’ play. Not for the night, but for a few hours at least. He told me he wanted to stroke my hair until I fell asleep. I cancelled with the Professor, and told him I was heading home instead. He didn’t ask questions for which I was grateful.

Almost from the moment I stepped out of the lift into the hotel lobby and saw Andrew waiting with his back to me, something felt wrong. This wasn’t like our other meetings. I could sense his desire and it didn’t feel like love.

My hotel room door closed behind him and we were entwined. Lips, bodies, hands. We couldn’t get enough, couldn’t press our bodies any closer together. Our kisses were hard, fierce, our hands desperate in their exploration over clothing being pulled from waistbands and pulled to the side. He pulled my top up and over my head, exposing my breasts trapped in my bra. The blinds on my windows were up, my room was well-lit. For any casual observer in the adjacent buildings, it would have been a titillating sight.

I pulled at his buttons, hurriedly undoing them one by one, sliding his shirt down off his shoulders. I wanted to feel him skin to skin. His hands across my body, inside my wet and waiting cunt. I tugged at his belt, slipped it from the buckle, undid his fly. His cock was hard, straining to be freed from the confines of his jeans.

He pushed me down on the bed, his weight on top of me. His kisses were ardent, his hands frantic. He tugged my bra down and took my left breast in his mouth. I cried out at the exquisiteness.

There was no time for words. I had him for only a few hours. I wanted to spend them with him inside me, licking me, fingering me, holding me. I felt the same intensity emanating from him. And yet, it wasn’t like the other times. He felt distant from me. Physically, it was as it had always been, but mentally our connection was broken.

His cock free, he pulled my head down and I took it eagerly in my mouth. I swallowed it deeply, feeling it pressing against the back of my throat. It was hard, hot, throbbing. I sucked and slurped, letting him force my gag reflex, choking me until I spluttered loudly. I knew he liked that. I wanted to please him. I wanted him to love me.

I was desperate to feel him inside me and fill me up. Our clothing was off or in the process of becoming so, and he lay down on the bed. I wasted no time straddling his hips, his hardness pressed against me. I slid my cunt over him to lubricate him with my juices before easing myself down. It felt divine. A feeling of fullness, warmth and utmost pleasure. I cried out and he groaned.

I began to rock, moving my body with his, as he thrust in and out. I tried to lean back, pushing myself against his chest, but he held me tightly to him.

“No, I want you to come babe. I want you to look at me.”

He was gazing into my eyes, holding my head with his hands so I couldn’t look away. My clit was grinding into his pelvic bone while he filled my insides. I could feel myself building to orgasm and he could feel it too.

“Come on babe, come on. Don’t stop! Good girl, come babe!”

I was moaning loudly, feeling the tell-tale pressure, feeling my cunt clench around his shaft. I started to come hard.

“Good girl! Don’t stop, don’t stop! That’s it, there you go!”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I was startled. Why was I crying? Why was I letting him see this? I stifled my sobs, burying my face in his shoulder. Fuck.

I was spent but we were only just getting started. I wanted to taste my cum on his cock, suck it from him. I kneeled between his legs, my mouth swallowing him, my tongue spiralling around his shaft.

“Oh babe, oh babe! God, I love how you suck my cock!”

I held him by the root of his cock, sliding my hand up and down rhythmically as I sucked. Every sound only made him want it more. He pushed my head down, driving himself into my throat until I gagged.

He sat up and flipped me onto my back and positioned himself at my entry to my cunt. He slid inside me, deep, my ankles around his ears. We both watched as he slid in and out of me, feeling how I tight it was clenched around him …

***

He didn’t say goodbye when he left about midnight. There were no parting words of love or affection. He told me later that day he hadn’t wanted to wake me because I needed my sleep. It felt furtive, secretive. I didn’t like it.

I didn’t like waking alone the next morning either, an uneasy feeling washing over me as I dressed for work. Something wasn’t right. He’d told me he didn’t have to take his son to daycare that morning. His “partner” and he weren’t together. It didn’t fit. What did fit was that he couldn’t explain to her where he was if he had stayed overnight. A late night can easily be explained as drinks with friends, a catch up that ran late.

But me? He couldn’t and wouldn’t explain. And he never would. It was slowly becoming clear what we were, and what I was.

That night, via text, I asked him if he loved her. He replied “I don’t know”.

One thing I have learned from leaving someone who desperately loves you, is that you always know. You always know who you love. “I don’t know” is the coward’s way of saying “Yes I do”.

And that was that. I was done. I knew then what I was and I didn’t want to play anymore.

It’s been one week since I ended it. And every day it gets a little easier. I hope, one day, it will be nothing but another lesson learned.