"Blow me, Becky. Suck my cock. I need to cum in your sweet, pretty mouth." Treating her in the same way that I treated all my other slutty women, I didn't realize she was my special one.
I just wanted to get laid. Oh, yeah, considered a bad boy, a four F kind of guy, find them, feel them, fuck them, and forget about them was my motto back then, that is, until I met Becky and until she branded me with her smile and tied a leash, albeit a long, loose noose, around my neck. Yet, it was still some time before she hogtied me down with an ultimatum to marry and live with her on her Daddy's farm.
"If you don't settle down with me, Tommy, we're done and it's over. You decide right now if you want me and our baby or your wild life."
Not much of a choice, thinking about all the women, the sex, the drinking, the drugs, and the days filled with good times without responsibility, I was considering returning back to my old ways, that is, before she called my life wild. As if that one word was a splash of cold water to my face, before giving me a dose of electrical shock therapy, it was then that I realized she was serious. The immature dope that I was, if I didn't stay with her, if I didn't repent, reconcile, and make my claim on her and my baby now, I'd lose them for good.
In an instant, I realized all that I already had with her was what I was looking for with someone else, another who wasn't even as pretty or as good, pure, and honest inside. Fortunately, I realized the better life that I could have with Becky, instead of the worse life I could have with someone else, someone who was just as wild as I was then. It was then that I realized that Becky and our baby were the best pieces of my perceived pie and the biggest pieces of the puzzle missing from my life. If I didn't make my claim now, not having them in my life, I'd stood to lose everything I could have wanted. My choice was an easy one to make.
Struggling to resist the truths she already somehow knew from that first date she was with me and from the unflappable insights she possessed, as if she were clairvoyant, when I think back, because of my immaturity, we had so little time and I wasted too much of the time that we could have had together. It took me too long to grow up to be the man that I am today and the man that she saw and needed me to be, when I was still just a horny boy. Even though the sex was good, the best sex I ever had, now that I'm older, I realize that the sex was the smallest part of what we shared. Lucky to have found one another so early in our lives, we were lucky to have shared something special, something deeper, something more meaningful, comfortable, and pleasurable, and something that so few people ever experience, and something that I never had and never will have with anyone else again.
More wanting to do things with my friends, never was I comfortable enough just sitting with a woman and talking, as I eventually grew to be with her. She was comfortable staying home and doing nothing, that is, if you call cooking, cleaning, taking care of our baby, and making a better life for us doing nothing. I always needed to go out and to do something, that is, if you call wasting my time and my money by hanging out and drinking with the guys doing something. What I thought was doing something then was more like doing nothing now.
With our relationship evolving to be more of a love bond than a sexual one, quickly growing to be my best friend, I told her things that I never told anyone else, not even my best buddies that I've known all my life. Compared to her, every other woman was an empty shell and just a vessel for my cum. I never clicked with another woman in the way that I clicked with Becky. A Thanksgiving Day seven course meal with the sex being the cherries jubilee, the other women in my life were just fast food that gave me indigestion, instead of love.
Yet, compared to everything else she gave me, the sex wasn't even the cherry on the sundae. The sex, the holding, the talking, and the cuddling was more the glue that connected us, when we suddenly found ourselves unraveling, pulling apart, and coming undone over something stupid. In hindsight, as if we just wanted to and needed to fight to clear the air and to have makeup sex, now that I have the time to look back with renewed insight, our disagreements were always over something stupid that got blown out of proportion.
With the sexual pleasure placating the pain we both felt from growing up poor and in dysfunctional households, the sex was sometimes what we needed to reinforce that there was a reason for all that we suffered through to be together now as man and woman, husband and wife, and lifelong lovers and partners. If it wasn't for her insisting that we were meant to be, I would have made a mistake by being with someone else, no doubt. If she hadn't forced fate by telling me that I was the one and telling me that she loved me from our very first date, I never would have known that then, as I truly believe that now.
Our good times sitting on the front porch and having a cup of coffee, playing whist, or a game of Scrabble and talking dwarfed whatever pleasure we had from having sex. The content happiness from the warmth that I felt being with her throughout the day far exceeded the pleasure I received from the few minutes of humping and sweating we did late at night or early in the morning. Sometimes and more as I grew older, I looked more forward to those quiet times with us talking, holding hands, and hugging, than I looked forward to us having sex. We never could watch television or a movie together without remembering something that made us start talking and laughing over the things we saw, heard, or did. Talking about everything and laughing over nothing, I never had that comfortable closeness with anyone but her.
It was the conversation that helped grow us closer by knowing more about one another than if we were brother and sister growing up in the same house. It was our words said in private to one another that cemented our relationship in an unbreakable bond of unified trust. We shared our secrets and fears with one another. As if the words were the bricks and the sex the mortar, we had built a strong foundation. Writing this now, I didn't have to tell her that then, she knew all of that already. I was the one always playing catch up to what she already knew. Compared to her, I was the one who didn't know anything. She was the oracle and I was the fool.
Even though she had beautiful breasts, the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen, felt, and sucked, I grew to look more forward to holding her hand and playing with her fingers, while walking and talking, than holding her breast and fingering her nipple, while making love. As if making a permanent connection with our lips, putting an arm around her waist and kissing her meant more to me than putting a cock in her mouth or pussy and fucking her. Now that I think more about it, I couldn't treat the woman I loved and the mother of my children as a whore, in the way that I did with the other women that I was with before her. Different from all the other women I've been with, we never fucked. We always made love.
Maybe the fear of falling in love is why I resisted her. Having such strong, strange feelings was new to me. Never depending on a woman before, always feeling superior to them, and now looking to Becky to fulfill most of my sexual, emotional, and spiritual needs, wants, and desires that I never knew I needed filled, made me feel less of a man in the beginning. I just wanted to have sex without having the accountability for everything else, the commitment of being with just one women, the complexity that comes with a relationship, and the responsibility for the happiness of someone else that went along with love.
Having to expose myself so openly, more terrifying than facing a linebacker on the open football field or fighting a professional heavyweight boxer in the ring, she frightened me, when she told me she loved me. As if she drove an icicle through my brain and another through my heart, having a sudden and detached aloofness that comes with severed emotions, feelings I couldn't give in to and share with her or with anyone else at the time, she froze me into inaction. Loved me? How could she love me, when we just had the one date? She doesn't even know me.
Obviously, I can see now that it was all meant to be and I was too tempted by and preoccupied with others to see that the one I loved was standing right there in front of me. Thinking that love had to be more complicated than that, thinking that I'd have to scour the countryside, search the planet, and be with and make mistakes with dozens, before I found the right one, we were lucky to find one another right away. Had I known then what I know now, things between us, especially in the beginning would have been differently better.
