6/2/26
The angel came over again. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in forever. I asked him if we could be friends tonight and go from there. I was worried I would not be attracted to him again. Within a few minutes, I know I am excited to have this man under my fingernails. I listen to him talk about things he’s passionate about and for two hours we talked about ourselves and our passions. He has been very kind to me. I softly land on the realization that I have let people treat me worse than I want because I think I deserve it.
I tie him up and give him head and I can feel the power and control in my shoulders. I feel out of practice. He is a verbal processor - like me - but I have a hard time doing so many things at once and can’t talk him through the orgasm. I feel like I am underserving him, but I decide I do not care. He would say I am doing enough. After he cums, I take all of him in my mouth and hold it. I roll it around with my tongue and savor the mouthfeel.
Apropos of nothing, he breaks the silence with, “you are the first person I’ve had sex with in over a year.” I was surprised - he’s handsome, I would have expected him to have a roster like I do. But he says the last year has been really hard for him, and that he really needed this. He uses those words - “I needed you.” I know he regrets them as soon as they’re out of his mouth. He is afraid of doing something wrong and scaring me off. But I am familiar with the dance of being too much for people, and I tell him to lay down. This is a conversation for when we’re horizontal.
We talk and cuddle and exchange back rubs and I, as I do, show too many of my cards during pillowtalk. It feels like he sees me without judgement. I told him I have a hard time feeling beautiful. I told him I like it when he touches me. I tell him it is hard for me to ask for things. He puts his warm hand on my hip as I talk and my body glows at the heat.
Some things are clear about him and I: we are not going to be casual. I am happy we have an end date. There will definitely be a zine about him after he’s gone.
He has left marks on my skin and the smell of him lingers in my bed. I try not to think about how much I would like for him to spend the night.











