Since reading my journals, I’ve become consumed by memories of Blake. I forgot the intensity with which I loved him. The fun we had together. The happiness I felt every day I was with him. I forgot how special our relationship was because of how badly it ended. I want to be in love like that again and can’t help but fantasize about the possibility of reuniting with Blake.
Even though I desperately want to see Blake, I have absolutely no desire to go to the reunion. My only friends in high school were Blake’s two best friends. The rest of my classmates had teased me unmercifully. I left those kids behind, moved to the big city after college, and never thought I’d return.
But I have to go to the reunion to see Blake, so I responded to his invite with the most vanilla response I could think of: “I’ll be there. It’ll be good to see you too!” He replied, “Good! Can’t wait!”
I know I shouldn’t go. If Blake doesn’t act like he’s ecstatic to see me, I’ll be upset. If he wants me back, I might throw away the good relationship I have. After all, I have a boyfriend. Marcus and I live together. We’re committed. Marcus is the boyfriend who loves me now and I love him too. Just not as much as I loved Blake.
Marcus isn’t happy that I want to go to the reunion. He knows about my past. He knows about Blake. He knows I had been madly in love with Blake when he dumped me. He knows the relationship didn’t end that abruptly, we continued seeing each other off and on during college; although, our relationship was never the same. He also knows I hated high school.
Knowing all this, he concluded that the only reason I want to go to the reunion is to see Blake. I denied it. We fought and he walked out. He came home a few hours later, drunk, half-empty bottle of Jack in hand.
He slurred his words, “If you go to this thing, I’m coming with you.”
I sighed, “I never said you couldn’t go. You flew off the handle as soon as I mentioned going.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I stood on my tippy toes, nibbled his ear and whispered, “I want Blake to know how happy I am without him.”
He looked me in the eyes and smiled, “So now you’re using me.”
“You’re never happy.”
He started to teeter on his feet. He held onto my shoulders to steady himself.
“You’re drunk,” I said, “Go to bed.”
“Only if you’re coming with me.”
I didn’t want to go with him. I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to have sex or worse, listen to one of his hour long drunken ramblings. But, I didn’t want to fight either, so I followed him to the bedroom with the intention of waiting for him to pass out.
He collapsed onto the bed fully dressed.
“Are you at least going to take your shoes off?” I asked.
He kicked his shoes off. “Are you going to lay down or not?”
I laid down next to him without bothering to undress.
He didn’t move, but yet complained. “You know, it’d be nice if you touched me.”
I smirked. “Please, you can’t perform when you’re drunk.”
I accepted his challenge. I rubbed the front of his jeans, felt him harden.
“Pull my pants down.”
I did as I was told and stroked him, making him moan. The sound of his pleasure triggered my desire for him.
He ordered me to stand and take off my clothes. I obeyed. I looked down at him as I undressed, admiring his beauty. His milk chocolate skin. His full, soft lips. I watched as he took off his shirt, exposing his muscular arms, chiseled chest and perfect six-pack abs.
I wanted to please him.
I sank to my knees. I took him into my mouth. He inhaled sharply. I increased speed, felt him tickle the back of my throat, but he wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed my hair and forced me to take in more of him, making me gag.
I loved being at his mercy.
He gathered all my long hair into his hand and yanked me off his dick. I fought against him, struggling to get back to my job. He toyed with me. Made me beg to suck his dick. Gave me little tastes before yanking me off.
I was his puppet, controlled by my hair. He threw me onto my back. Twisted my nipples, making me scream out in pain. Choked me with his free hand as he put the tip of his dick inside me, loosening the grip on my neck only so I could beg him to slide all the way into me.
After hearing me beg, he plunged into me and began fucking me as hard and as fast as he could. I couldn’t catch my breath. I came within minutes.
Still he didn’t let me catch my breath. He flipped me onto my stomach and continued fucking me with the same ferocity. I felt his sweat drip onto my back. I told him he was the best I ever had and meant it.
He responded by stopping, yanking me by my hair, forcing me to take his dick into my mouth, taste myself. He demanded I spit on it. Get it nice and lubed up.
He forced me onto my hands and knees. He slowly entered my ass.
“Play with yourself.”
I complied. He fucked me until we both came. We collapsed onto the bed together. Panting. Shaking. I couldn’t move.
He hadn’t fucked me like that in a long time. I knew he was marking his territory. Trying to make me forget about Blake. But it didn’t work. I’m still thinking about the fucking prom king.