I despise those who judge others in the name of their Gods. It is something I myself refrain from doing, and I only ask the same courtesy from those around me.
One of the technicians I work with is a hardcore Christian, one who feels it’s his duty to share his views with anyone who will listen- and those who don’t want to, namely me.
I apparently offend him with my perfect happiness in my life decisions. I apparently am evil in his eyes. I apparently am damned to an eternity in hell, just because I don’t believe the way he does.
He claims that the relationship I have with Jane is not real. That it’s just an illusion sent from the Devil to tempt me. Well, if this is an illusion, then I don’t want reality. I enjoy my illusion- and I know that my ‘illusion’ is the best reality I could have landed in. I know Jane will never hurt me the way that my husband did, I know Jon will never hurt me the way my husband did. I know that here, and here alone, I’m safe and loved and if that is an illusion, then I reject reality and substitute my own (to paraphrase Adam from Mythbusters).
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A fantasy:
Tech stands in the doorway, gazing at me as I lounge in my bed. He’s been here for hours, watching wrestling with me and my family, and now everyone but the two of us are abed. Tech’s wedding band is no longer on his hand, and the glaring absence catches my eye. He sees me staring and acknowledges it.
“She’s gone. She left me last night. I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Was it me?” This question was important to me. I had to know that it wasn’t my fault or the guilt would eat me alive for the rest of my life.
“No, never you.” He moved out of the doorway and towards me on the bed, slowly, like a man in a trance. He perched on the edge of the bed and took my hands in his own. His eyes glistening with unshed tears, he pulled my hand towards his lips, touched it gently to them. “I knew it was coming, but it still hurts so badly. It’s like my heart’s been torn apart.” My own heart swelled in sympathy for the forlorn figure sitting in front of me. No one understood that pain like I do. Of their own will, my arms wrapped around his shoulders as they sagged with unspoken pain.
Gently, he raised his lips to my own, and the heat from his kiss seared through my very soul as it went from gentle to demanding. His hands started to wander and tug at the buttons of my Tire and Lube Express uniform shirt- one that matched his own. My own hands began to slowly undo his belt buckle and the button on his uniform pants. My shirt melted away and my chest heaved in my best black bra. His fingers traced fire down my back, and I began to tug at his shirt. Too. Much. Cloth. Between. Us. Finally, after moments that felt as though they were hours, nothing stood between us except our skin. I leaned back and allowed his to feast his eyes upon me, unashamed of myself. He pushed me back onto my pile of pillows in a reclining position, and slowly crawled towards me, his body slowly covering my own as every nerve ending crackled and sent electricity flowing down in between my legs, into my brain, and everywhere. I felt as though I were glowing. My hands flew over his body, settling themselves around that part of him that I’d dreamt of and glimpsed in tantalizing outline many times as we worked together on a oil change or as he toiled over a flat tire as I wrote up cars. It was as beautiful as I’d imagined. Slowly, so slowly, he traced small circles around my large coffee-and-cream colored nipples with his tongue. My back arched under him as his hands found my clit and slowly rubbed it in those motions that bring so much Pleasure. My breath coming in ragged gasps now, somehow we turned so that now he lay against the pillows and I lay next to him. I inched my way down his fine body, lightly running my fingers through chest hair that I find so fascinating on a man, until I rested my chin on his thighs and lightly blew on his cock. It bounced up and stood as though begging me to take it in my mouth. I did as it commanded, slowly (always slowly, no need to rush) working my way down to the base of him. He was long and round, but somehow I managed to fit him all the way down. He moaned and I picked up speed just a bit. His strong hands weaved their way into my hair and gently took control, setting a pace for me, until he couldn’t take it any more and pulled me away, settling me again on my giant pillow pile. Now it was his turn to work his way down into my secret area and drive me nearly crazy with the feelings of wanting to explode and needing to come. I was drowning in it. Then, suddenly, he was inching back up to me, bringing his face close to mine.
“Do you want me?” His voice was husky and low, as though he didn’t want to be heard. I nodded, unable to utter a sound.
“Then I’m yours.” He sat up and brought himself close to me, then suddenly- oh so suddenly!- he was in me, pushing and pulling back, driving me over the point of no return quickly, once, twice. I felt him quiver inside of me and then I was filled with his warm come just before he collapsed, sweaty and exhausted, on top of me. His sweat felt cool to my feverish skin, and I once again wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He looked up, his glasses slightly askew on his nose.
“Was it worth the wait?”
I nodded, still unable to speak.
“You’re better than I thought you’d be. You’re the best.” He rolled off of me and settled next to me on the bed. I turned and snuggled up against him, my head resting comfortably on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you won.”
“What do you mean?”
“The game of my heart. I’m glad it’s you.” He smiled, his heart-shaped lips parting a bit.
‘I am, too.”
We dropped off to sleep that way. In the morning he was still there.
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I’d like to state that the above story was STRICTLY FANTASY, born from a lovesick heart, and is in no way based on reality.
But oh how I wish…
