Confessions logo

Wings of Pastrami pt. 4

take these melted wings

By Elle Published 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 4 min read
Like
Wings of Pastrami pt. 4
Photo by No Revisions on Unsplash

I try to pinpoint the exact moment I tipped over into “catching feelings” with my favorite FWB (friend with benefits), Aaron. I think it was post marathon-blow-job, in the backseat of his car as he relayed the details of his family tree. I remember noticing that his voice sounded different in those moments. He tends to speak in a slightly sardonic, vaguely mocking tone but as he recounted his distant family background, his voice was deeper, calmer, and with no pretense. It was also one of the few times we’d lingered after sex. We’ve spent entire nights together and cuddled in various beds, but we never really have conversations about everyday things.

The timeline of my downfall is thus: He messages and tells me it’s his birthday and he wants to spend the day with me. We meet up uncharacteristically (for us) early in the evening and drive around a bit before I suggest we go to the hourly motel. I proceed to give him a blow job about which he will later wax poetic. I don’t recall doing anything particularly special for his Bday BJ but hey, I’ll take the compliment.

The birthday sex, however, I do vividly recall. I was standing along the side of the bed, bent over as he fucked me from behind. It was intimate and intense and I was surprised that I actually had an orgasm with no clitoral stimulation whatsoever; just good ole P in V. As he worked up to his own orgasm, he fucked me harder, low moans emanating from his throat that sent aural tingles down my spine. As he came inside me, he gripped my shoulders and laid his front against my back with his face in the crook of my neck. I reveled in the feel of his hot cum filling me. We collapsed on the bed where he proceeded to sleep like the dead as I marveled first at his beautiful profile, then at the impressive volume and timbre of his snores. We only had the room for three hours so I eventually awakened him mid-snore.

Another nail in my emotional coffin was in the making of a signature playlist at his request. He once told me I had the best car-CD collection and I took that as the highest of compliments. I’m of the generation that created playlists to signify affection status for friends and lovers. Presenting someone with a mix tape was like giving them a ring. When Aaron casually suggested I put together a playlist for him, I was (too) happy to comply. I cobbled together 50 songs, each song a private or mutually-known connector of our four-year acquaintance.

Some highlights:

Fly on the Windscreen/Depeche Mode We’d mused on the (U.K.) use of the word 'windscreen' as opposed to (the U.S) 'windshield', and he mentioned again his inexplicable disdain for the English.

Everlasting/Manic Street Preachers I already associated this song with Aaron from the many car journeys we'd taken over the years, but it is now forever cemented in my mind as the song that happened to be playing as he came inside me.

Not in Love/Crystal Castles f. Robert Smith This was a later addition to the playlist as I tried to convince myself I wasn’t falling. Also, he loves The Cure and thinks I’m a bad old goth because I don’t.

I had his playlist running throughout our motel liaison. My mixtapes/playlists have always been the soundtracks of my life. To gauge my mood all one has to do is observe the music I have playing. Sucking and fucking Aaron to the music specifically curated for him was a bit too much cross-stimulation for me. As we prepared to leave, Aaron turned to me and said,

“You know what made this time different?”

“Yes, the music.” I blurted out, for I’d been marveling the experience as he’d slept.

“No…,” he answered, looking amused. “But I gotta download the app so I can listen later.”

“You don’t have to be a premium member. You can listen for free but there’s commercials.”

Wasn’t I just a babbling fount of helpful information? He never did tell me what he’d been about to say.

I went No Contact two weeks ago. For despite being “in love” and hiding it reasonably well, now the sporadic hookups and unanswered texts were taking their toll. My thoughts were not my own, but the tears were. So not acceptable. I may secretly yearn for love, but I WILL NOT chase after it and refuse to let it destroy me. I sent him this text: It’s become clear to me that A) We’re not friends and B) there aren’t enough benefits. Lose my number.

I’ve blocked and unblocked him half a dozen times. Hope is a dangerous thing; so is curiosity. It drives me crazy not knowing if he has tried to call or text. If I Block and Delete, I’ll never know. Putting myself in a position of not knowing is worse to me than knowing he doesn’t care enough to try to change my mind.

And now I know.

Bad habits
Like

About the Creator

Elle

my slutty adventures...

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

Elle is not accepting comments at the moment

Want to show your support? Send them a one-off tip.

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.