Do You Remember?

Jay -

We haven't spoken in awhile, and maybe that's my fault. Maybe it's yours; I don't really know. After receiving no response whatsoever when I told you that yes, I am still wildly attracted to you, I assumed that I wasn't what you wanted anymore, and decided to go on about my business. It's not that I wanted to stop talking to you or seeing you, but you've made it obvious that you simply aren't attracted to me anymore.

While we were seeing each other, if you want to call it that, there were only a few times that you initiated any sexual activities whatsoever. Were you ever truly attracted to me, or was I merely a distraction from your loneliness, an oasis in your desert of celibacy? I'll never know the truth; you and I can't have these discussions face-to-face, remember?

I want to talk to you specifically about the first time we had sex. Since you have such a shitty memory to begin with, I want to know if you remember what happened that night. I do, and I think about it often. So often lately, in fact, that it's kept me up nights, my own hands tracing the path that I remember yours taking. It's kept me up thinking to the point that I'm now writing this letter.

This whole thing started when you invited me to hang out at your place. I think it was a Friday night. It was cold out, I remember, but wanting to impress you, I wore a low cut v-neck shirt under a snug fitting hoodie. I figured it really wouldn't matter, seeing as how you live just three doors down from me.

You opened the door, looking sexy as usual. You are still the only boy I know who can make sweatpants and a t-shirt look so good. I sat in your living room while you tinkered around in the kitchen, fixing us drinks. You gave me a tumbler full of something, I don't remember what exactly, and we sipped and talked, occasionally watching the TV in the background.

After two of those tumblers, I remember getting very warm and taking off my hoodie. Then I remember you saying you were playing ball earlier.

"I really fucked up my shoulder this time," you told me.

"Poor baby," I purred at you, "What can I do to help?"

You grinned at me, dimples deepening in your cheeks. "Give me a back rub."

I sat in your chair, with you sitting between my legs, and started to knead your back. First over your shirt, but eventually I worked my hands underneath and started rubbing your bare flesh, tracing my fingers up and down your spine, rubbing the base of your neck, massaging the hollow spots behind your ears.

While I did this, I remember you rubbing my calves with your hands. Leaning forward, you ran your hands up and down my legs, making my heart race. This was probably the least erotic thing a man had ever done for me, rubbing the bottom of my legs outside my jeans, but since it was you, and any touch you give me is fare game, I was instantly turned on.

I finished your massage with a light kiss to the back of your neck. After a few minutes, you went to your bedroom and grabbed the comforter and two pillows, and announced you were going to lie down. It was getting late, so I lay down with you, and you pulled me close to your body.

Emboldened by the alcohol, I'm certain, I started to rub your abdomen and chest. I remember (vividly) how your shirt rose over the defined muscles and lay in the valleys between. Your body always amazed me; you are an athletic guy, that's for sure, and evident in the definition and tone of your body. When I fantasize at night, it's your body that I imagine holding mine.

At this point, my memory does get a little fuzzy as to the events. I do remember you sliding my body on top of you, running your hands all over me. I remember you kissing my violently, and me being able to taste the alcohol on your lips. At one point, you ripped the shirt from my body and started kissing my chest, moving your mouth back and forth, licking and sucking on each of my breasts.

Then I remember you turning and pinning me to the floor. With one hand, you clasped mine together, over my head. The other you slid down my body and unbuttoned my jeans. I tried to move my hands to pull them down, but you held firm. Instead of pulling them off me, you slid your hand inside and started to play. I remember you stroking my clit, softly at first, then more rapidly. You started tugging on it, moving it up and down with your fingers. At this point, you let my hands go, and I grabbed at your head, the floor, the carpet.

You continued your assault with kisses to my chest and my stomach. Tracing your tongue along the lines of my abs, my tattoo, and circling around my navel ring. You finally pulled off my jeans and continued the journey to my thighs, swirling your tongue around, and leaving little hickies on the softest parts of my inner thighs, like a brand.

I remember you stopping, and leading me into your bedroom. I remember us both naked, lying in your bed. You moved between my legs, and let your dick slide inside me. You started moving very slow at first, in and out of me, but you soon started pumping harder and faster, either from the excitement of the situation, or because you hadn't gotten laid in awhile, I'm not sure.

We switched positions a few times. Once I was on top of you, riding you, and then you were behind me, hands tight around my waist, pumping in and out. I think you liked this position the best, because you grabbed my ass, my hair, and my breasts. It seemed like you had eight pairs of hands, and they were all touching, caressing, grabbing my body. I remember you moaning, almost growling softly, in my ear as you came. A few seconds later, I came too, my whole body going into convulsions, and screaming your name.

I stayed with you that night, and for a few nights after. In the morning, you made me breakfast, and we joked around like we were still just friends. Like nothing had changed. Maybe for you, it hadn't. I'd like to think that I was more than some random piece of ass for you, but I'll never really know. The great thing about this site is that I know you'll never see it, so I can say whatever I like. What I guess I'm trying to say is that I remember what it was like, when we were still close. I hope you do to.

With love and much respect,

Rae