Thick, Kinky, and Loves A Good Meal - Part 1

Transcript

It had been at least a couple years since I'd heard from you, and I can't say I wasn't shocked, perhaps even surprised when I got your message. I mean, I'm glad I didn't delete your contact. But before I responded, I thought deep and hard.

I definitely remember this one. How could I forget? She shaped my life.

In fact, I even remember the first interaction. We were talking, and something came up about self-descriptions, and you said, Thick, kinky, and I love to eat. Ding, ding, ding.

I mean, if that didn't check all the boxes, I'm not sure what else would. And speaking of would, you blew my mind. We met and instantly, instantly connected.

Sexually immensely compatible. You brought out this dominant side of me that I didn't quite know existed, or wasn't even sure I wanted, to be fair. And it was as if you were always telling me, it's okay to try this.

We can try it and see if we like it. And try it, we did. I remember the butt plug.

I remember the ropes. I remember the endless amounts of lingerie, the stockings, those semi-transparent panties. Those tops that withheld those perfect, perfect breasts that allowed me to see those perfect nipples getting hard.

You loved me in control, and you would tell me that often. And you brought out that monster in me. Fast forward to the present.

I'm feeling a little bit different about life these days. I'm struggling emotionally. I don't know why.

Maybe it's the idealism of getting older. Maybe I'm just not the same person I was when we were in full force. And I guess we both wondered sort of what happened, but I think to be fair, life just got in our way.

And eventually, you moved away, you moved on, and we had stopped communicating. Of course, I think about you and have thought about you often. I might even use you as the barometer.

For all the others. Well, when I say all, any of the others. I probably shouldn't be telling you this.

In any case, when you got back in touch with me and we talked, I remember kind of being on the fence when you suggested that we get together just as friends, just grab some dinner. Just catch up for old times. You're only going to be in town for a week.

And then I said something to the effect of how I could never, never forget all those amazing, amazing experiences. And then you said, I don't know how to forget you. That was definitely the nail in the coffin for me.

I had thought about making an excuse as to why we couldn't get together. Why I didn't want to ruin all those great memories that we had had. I wasn't going to tell you that I'm not that crazy, dominant guy that you had been with before.

That I had been exploring myself deeply, working on myself. I'd become much more of a listener than a talker. Much more someone who's trying to understand instead of somebody who is trying to talk over you.

I figured, hey, I'm just going to be honest and if you're just here for that other guy, well, so be it. But to my surprise, you took that dominant role and you insisted that we go back to the way things were. You insisted that we go through with your suggested plans.

Thick, kinky, loves to eat. Come on, Jay, you know where all the good restaurants are. I know you like to eat too.

Come on, pick out a good one and we'll go. My treat is what you said. Your treat.

Girl, you know I never let you pay for anything. Now you're just insulting me. I met you at the spot.

You were already there, already sitting down and there was a glass of red wine in front of you. I could already see the dark lipstick stains on the rim. Sexy, and sexy indeed.

You looked fantastic. You had definitely, definitely put on a little bit of girth or weight. I don't know what the appropriate thing would be to say.

But you looked beautiful as ever. Whatever this new you was that was sitting there, God, I almost wanted to turn around and run the fuck right out of there. I wasn't feeling me.

But you, you looked divine. I pulled my chair out. I sat down.

You bent forward and asked me, is that how you greet a girl these days, Jay? My Lord, you, you, you've become the star of my life. You've become a dominant person.

I was embarrassed. I sat back in my chair, tilted my head, extended my arm, placing my hand on your face, my thumb, touching your cheek. Immediately, memories started flooding in.

How many times had I taken my hand to that cheek, slapping it, demanding you to tell me how much you wanted this cock, asking if you were my good girl. How many times had my thumb been between those lips, feeling your tongue, your teeth against my skin. I pause, not sure what to say.

You, you look great. We ordered. We had a great dinner, followed by some fantastic conversation.

Never once did I pick up my phone or look at the time. We reeled through all the memories, all the fun and crazy things that we had done. All the wild places.

Sex on an airplane. I would have never thought to actually do it. So many, so many things.

And as dinner finished, I picked up a napkin and brushed it across the corner of your lips. I got you. I watched you blush.

There he is. You responded. There he is.

You responded. And when the maitre d' came to the table and asked us, is there anything else I can get you? We both said no simultaneously and giggled.

He dropped off the check. I went to place my hand on top of it and you took yours, slapping it right down on top of mine. No, you said.

Who are you? I don't know this girl. You insisted.

You would not allow me to treat. You for dinner. I wanted to put up an argument and a fight, but it was just emotionally not there.