OD remains the only man whose love slips through my heart unconsciously.
Why aren’t we together? Story for another day.
When we met 2 years ago, we knew we were the same person in different bodies. I am sure some of you have somebody like that in your lives.
Anyway, when OD called me and asked in his usual impudent tone if my night was busy, I badly wanted to say “Yes! I am busy!” But marghn, the silk in that voice, tickled me in a familiar spot.
And then he said “please babe”
I really couldn’t keep fighting that. This was about the 100th call to meet up OD had placed to me in 2 years. My heart was still vacant and instead of the usual boring Friday night, I decided to have a date.
He got to my gate over two hours late and I was already seething and texting him blastings. It brought back horrible reminders of why we broke up in the first place. But the best thing about OD, was his boyish charm, his easy way of making me forget the world wasn’t ours.
The moment he jumped out of his car, he had me in his arms and lifted up so tickly I was squealing with laughter. I had to force him to drop me long enough to warn him never to keep me waiting again. He murmured a seductive sorry. That sweet, chiseled face with chubby hints of age, the toned body I knew which was giving way to a slight lackadaisical pot belly. Very slight. I joked about it, he laughed about how I was privileged to have known it in it’s hey days. Hahahaha! Yea, this was my good ole OD. A mixture of easy going love and rich, deep, warm laughter.
My twin of a different gender…perhaps that’s the main reason it never worked.
The only man who ever got me scared was OD. Because he was a walking, talking male version of me. So bad we even had the same birthday. Yea! We did! We spoke the same things at the same time, thought the same things at the same time, found peace in each other’s eyes.
So, we headed to a cosy little spot down my road. Good music, soft sofas which we sunk in and ordered drinks. I am a wine freak…so is he. We indulged.
Thank God the place was largely deserted except for two other lovers who were more engrossed in themselves than we were. Our hands, lips, bodies found each other without prompting.
This was old, cherished, familiar and still hyper exciting. OD was the man I could kiss an hour and still feel 16. The time flew somewhere between the long convo we had to catch up on. And when we got back to my apartment, we kissed long at the gate. His hands were beneath my scandalously skimpy dress, pressing into my pelvis. He begged to be let in and I begged him to just go home.
He wouldn’t hear it. Eventually I wrestled myself out of his arms with a lot of effort and run upstairs.
Some ten minutes afterwards, I walked out onto the balcony and OD was still parked at my gate. Nopes, he wasn’t leaving.
I went down, opened the gate and literally flew into his arms.
He carried me halfway up the stairs before our bodies took over. Pent up need, fury, certain but halting love and a need of familiar fulfillment drove us.
His dick wasn’t exactly big but it filled me just when I managed to crawl onto the hall carpet.
We were delirious, drawing on each other like we would never have this night again. All I remember afterwards is that I woke up very thirsty and very naked in OD’s arms at about 3 A.M.
As I moved, he stirred and we made our way to the bedroom…