Misunderstandings

He had me off balance. Quite literally, as it turned out. As we walked into the silent, deserted center of the project, I stumbled and fell into some planking. I think it made much more noise than harm, although it did stun me for a moment.

When I was able to focus again, there was Sandy. His face was close to mine, giving me a concerned look that had much more depth of feeling and interest in it than the accident warranted. And he had both of his arms around me, ready to help me up. But he didn't help me up. His lips were on mine and his body was pressed to mine there on the soft ground, amid the scattered planking.

I heard the roaring in my ears, the roaring I had heard mingled with the surf back in that convertible on the overlook above the sea during that disastrous blind date so very long ago. And I heard the sound of Ned's moans and groans from the backseat of the car as he moved between the legs of his date. But were those Ned's sounds or Sandy's sounds? Or maybe mine? It was all just too new and too strange and too wonderfully frightening to know what was happening.

It was hot, so damn hot. I was struggling to loosen my clothes. I had to escape the heat. And Sandy was helping me free myself.

The roaring in my ears. He was murmuring questions at me, and, in my panic at the newness of this, the glorious threat of this, I was whispering "no" to each of his questions, knowing that he had to stop. This wasn't what I did. This wasn't the icy me. I was so, so hot.

He had his hand on me again, but now there was no trouser fabric between his hot, hot hand and my manhood. Someone was moaning and groaning and whispering "no" to each of Sandy's questions.

He asked me if this was new to me, and, misunderstanding him, I whispered "no."

He asked me—repeatedly—if he should stop, and, misunderstanding him, I whispered "no."

He asked me if he was hurting me when his battering ram was at the gate, and, misunderstanding him, I cried out "no." And then, as he stormed the gate, he asked me again if he was hurting me and whether he should stop, and, misunderstanding him, I clenched my teeth and cried out "No! God, NO!"

And the heat flooded in, melting the iciness that had long clutched at my heart, and the hot poker split me asunder and moved inside me and filled me and stretched me.

We were beyond misunderstandings and "no." Heat and understanding and acceptance and love flooded inside me as Sandy fucked me relentlessly, flooding me again and again, driving the ice floes away with the lava of his love.

But, loud praises for the scorching release of misunderstandings—and fuck the cake; let it burn too.