It's too early to be awake.
"u up?" A text from Camilla.
The clock reads 5AM.
"nah" I type back. Trying to signal a sort of detachment. Her text doesn't mean anything. None of them do.
"can i cum over" Huh. She really knows what I'm about.
I tell her to come over as soon as possible. I don't have time to waste. Claire is coming around 11.
She arrives and she's wearing pajamas. It doesn't matter if what she's wearing is sexy because I only care about what's beneath. The moment her cloths come off it's all fair game.
She takes her place on my bed and lies down.
"I've been thinking about you--" *I haven't.* "And I was sad that you didn't text me back."
"Oh, sorry. I just got--Busy." That's reasonable enough, isn't it? What can she say?
*Busy? With what?*
"With what?" *Ah fuck.*
"Work. Just managing people is a lot." That isn't a lie. Managing people is hard. Managing the various dates and times doesn't come easy. It's a task that requires curating who and what I am perceived to be.
The pieces fall easy once you have good looks in place. People talk about women as if they're some sort of monolith. A symbol to be figured out and dissected. That couldn't be farther from the truth.
If I've learned anything from the, now thousands of, messages I've sent it's that women want the same as men. Not in the same way and not in the same words but they want. They want to be loved and appreciated. They want to fuck and be fucked. They want to be grabbed by the throat and given their fantasy. The difference? For women the fantasy is about giving control. No longer holding onto the world. Letting go of that fear and letting somebody bigger and stronger take over.
For men the fantasy is taking that control and doing with it what they want. Using somebody for the purpose of just *using.* The purpose of treating somebody as disposable. The fantasies almost match up. The problem lies where men and women differ. For a man the disposability of women *is* the fantasy. It is the case that being able to replace girl after girl is where every man wants to end up. If, and this is a big if, men were honest it would come to light that none of them truly wanted to be monogamous.
It just doesn't make sense does it? Not evolutionary speaking and not in the fantasy that men all share.
That's why it wasn't hard for me to sit in front of Camilla and tell her that I had missed her. Missed her form and her laugh and the everything. Because it wasn't true. It didn't have to be true. It just had to sound *good.* That's a thing women don't like either. The idea that they're being lied to. But is it a lie? If I tell a women that she's sexy, and beautiful, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Does the truth matter? If in that moment I mean it?
Because I do.
Camilla and I are in bed and she's leaning into my shoulder. I've turned on my bedroom TV and there's nothing on. I put on a show for background noise.
The pressure of her weight on me is comforting. It's the one consistent thing about her.
My mind wanders as I look down at her blonde hair. Her tits are highlighted by the fabric of her fuzzy pajamas. Her hand is over my crotch but it's reaching for the other side of me. I want her to know... To understand that I need her to grab my cock. Need for her to blow me because that's the only reason she's here. The only reason I even bothered to respond.
I wrap her ever closer with my arms. My thumb is rubbing her shoulder and she tucks her head and closes her eyes.
This is not what I wanted.
The time is 7AM and we still haven't fucked.
She's barely even awake. I've been in a paralyzed position trying to think of how I can get her out. I have time. More than enough but I don't want this time to be wasted. I need her to be a good girl.
So I nudge her awake and a small kiss on the head.
"Tired, huh?"
She doesn't answer. Not with words. A soft release of air and stress. She turns toward me and tosses her leg over mine.
My dick is getting hard. I want to place her hand on it. So that she understands the state she has me in.
That's one of the secrets of women. You have to let them think it was all their idea. Let them think that they're the sexy ones. And the truth is they are. Because more than anything every guy wants to fuck them. The secret is to give them the very thing they want. The feeling that more than anything you want her and forever. Because the fantasy for women isn't about power. It's about giving power to somebody so that they'll be accepted. Embraced for an indefinite amount of time.
I notice her body start pushing against mine. In small rhythmic movements.
"Camilla?"
"Hmm?"
She doesn't look up at me. Her body continues moving.
I place my hand on her back and kiss her head. She lets out a small mewl. Her movements become more rapid. I understand that she's humping me. Slowly.
Her leg raises itself and it rubs ever so slightly against my crotch.
I look towards the clock and it's 8AM.
She's wasted my entire morning. I have to do this. It can't wait. But the art of seduction requires waiting. Much more attractive men than me have failed. Purely because they weren't able to wait.
Her leg is lowered again and she's wrapped both her arms around me. Her eyes are open and her face is rubbing against my chest. The movement is strange but the anticipation is building.
She stops for a moment and looks up at me. I gently place my hand beneath her chin. Tilt her head up towards me and lean in for a soft kiss. I pull back and then kiss her again. For a final third time I kiss her cheek and lean in to her neck. Planting a kiss where her vein would be.
Another mewl escapes her.
I am doing the right thing.
She stops moving and then looks up at me. I can see a look in her eyes. It's obvious what it means. She's been so desperate and alone for so long and she's placed her hope on me. For everything. She wants this to be meaningful. If only I could tell her it's not.
The look almost breaks me. It takes everything in me to not be honest. To not tell her that she needs to leave because I already have a girlfriend and it'll never be Camilla. She's just a girl that I matched with on a dating app and that means less than nothing. I want to tell her.
I don't.
For thirty whole seconds our eyes are locked and I kiss her again. This time I pull away and get close to her ear.
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
I might be. Or I might not.
"Me too." She says.
*Fuck.*
With a final kiss I wrap both my arms around her. Pulled tight against each other I can feel her tits. Her tongue as it pushes up against mine. This is all I've been waiting for. The moment of release is close.
She continues to grind against me. Our mouths are interlinked and she feels my hard cock against her legs. She knows what I'm feeling as well as I do. The ever present need to fuck.
I've referred to it as an itch in the past but more recently it's become a scream. A necessity for calming that ever present voice inside.
It's a denial of the past. A denial of the damage and hurt I've faced but I don't want to hear it. I don't want to look at it. I don't want to know it exists.
So when she finally puts her hand on my dick and rubs up against my pants I can feel it receding. The voice disappears and I finally feel safe.
Her hand rubs for only a few seconds before she climbs on top of me. Her pussy is right over my hard cock. As soon as she sits it will be in near contact with her tight cunt. It's what I want. The voice inside requires it.
"Do you like what you see?" She asks me while still wearing her flamboyant purple pajamas.
"Yes." I lie.
She giggles a little before removing her top. She's not wearing a bra. She leans forward and kisses me on the lips.
