Forest Neo-Romanticism
Lately, I've been thinking only about him. That fairytale prince with blue eyes and a tender cock. I call him a fairytale prince because he appeared in my life so unexpectedly and magically. We lived on the same street for 18 years and knew nothing about each other... In childhood, we went to the same arts school, he was in the art department, I was in the music department...
Well, why, why, why didn't we meet earlier, when I was a sweet girl with a braid down to my waist, and not that deliberately vulgar, big-titted punk girl who doesn't know her limits with alcohol?..
I vainly try to drown these thoughts with cigarettes and alcohol, but they still stay with me.
We met
online. We accidentally stumbled upon each other in that brain-devouring virtual plague. After three months of virtual interaction, we decided to meet and walk in the botanical garden, which is very close to our houses.We walked. Chatted about various things. Both of us had accumulated a lot of unsaid things, but it didn't turn into mindless chatter, but rather a quite harmonious conversation. Externally and internally, he was the complete opposite of my ex, my evil genius. I always liked blondes, but he turned out to be a burning brunette... Before, I thought I liked cruel and brutal guys, but he seemed simply sweet and kind. Although, for some reason, he didn't consider himself that way at all...
That was the truth. He wasn't cruel, but he wasn't sweet either. His head was full of all sorts of crazy and funny little quirks. And in his eyes — two blue little devils.
The third time, sex didn't happen either. There was even something funny about it — we told each other so much about sex, but never actually did it together...
The fourth time, he suddenly wanted to sit under a fir tree. We have these sprawling Siberian firs with branches all the way to the ground, under which a group of 6-7 people can easily fit, drink and hang out there, have collective or paired sex, and no one will see them... though they might hear.
We crawled under the fir tree, sat with our backs against the woody trunk. The twigs painfully dug into my back. We had sat before, leaning against a tree, but that time it was a pine and a birch. The fir turned out to be much less hospitable.
"So you wanted to sit under the little fir tree, but I think I'll lie down under it..."
I throw my bag on the ground and lie down with my head on it. Right on the ground, still warm in August and covered with prickly fir needles. He silently lies down next to me.
"What a wonderful fir scent... Want some gum?"
That's me.
"Of course... I'll take anything you give me..."
That's him. So quietly, uncertainly. I immediately understand — it's time. He likes it when girls take the initiative in sex. But I need to play coy for a couple more minutes, for the sake of formality. Say a few words. My voice is low, and hoarsely-vulgar. It's been low since childhood, and now I've completely ruined it with cigarettes, so it's also hoarse and vulgar.
"You said that just now..."
"Said what?"
"Well... 'I'll take anything you give me.' As if you want me to give you something else, more global... you know..."
"Ah... right. That was me, it just slipped out... Listen, you smell so wonderfully of raspberry jam..."
"That's not jam, that's homemade raspberry wine. I'm an alcoholic."
"What jokes you have..."
"Yeah. I like to joke. But I can be serious too..."
Silence. I turn onto my side. He doesn't move. I hug him and lie on top of him. "First move." That's what he whispered. And suddenly I feel lips on my neck. So tender and simultaneously burning, as if running a lighter along my neck. And his slightly stubbly chin tickles... My ex loved to bite my neck. And not just my neck, but other parts of my body too. Once he bit me so hard that I had a bruise half the size of my arm. I felt so hurt then... after all, I'm no masochist.
I move closer and kiss him on the lips. Then I lie on my back and roll him on top of me.
The foreplay lasted about two minutes, after which I felt it was time to stop with the romantic kissing and get down to business. And then he says to me: "Your hand isn't in the right place." And puts it where it needs to be. I adore caressing a cock with my hand. Feeling its power, strength, and whatever else distinguishes this organ from ours. And suddenly I hear again: "You could at least unbutton your pants..." It's all clear, you don't even need to continue. You want a blowjob, baby, I can feel it. And I thought you were completely untouchable...
He gets on his knees. Waits. But what should I do next — I don't know. My ex, over two years of relationship, conditioned me to the fact that he undresses himself, roughly pulls me onto his sinewy dick with his mouth, after which he banally and with terrible fury fucks my mouth, cums, and instantly falls asleep, thereby instilling in me a terrible aversion to blowjobs. I dreamed of doing it tenderly and with feeling, first with my tongue, then deeper and deeper... but my ex immediately made it clear that for him it was just pink snot, and nothing more.
But here, it seems, it needs to be different... "Sorry, could you unbuckle your belt? But I'll handle everything else myself... honestly-honestly." That's it, with joint efforts, we're done with the pants. I see his cock. Well, I'll be... His cock is as beautiful as his thoughts... Size never interested me, it was the aesthetic side that was important. Before this, I had seen four cocks. The first two I don't want to remember, because they were random. I just wanted to express my independence childishly and fuck for real. There was no love, but there were a couple of one-night-stand lovers who happened to be around at different times. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but I clearly wasn't mature enough for it back then. After that, I had a complete aversion to sex for two years. The third cock belonged to Dan, who was 18 years older. He taught me a lot, but his cock was already withering — for me, at least. And anyway, I never needed a sugar daddy. The fourth belonged to my ex, and it was, as already said, sinewy and resembling a fir tree root.
The prince's cock turned out to be tender and strong at the same time. Which didn't stop me, out of old habit, from starting to suck dumbly and intensely. "Why so rough..." "Sorry... I'll fix it." I take it gently in my hand, first run my tongue over the head, then go lower. Take it into my mouth and start moving slowly. So there's no stupid smacking sound. Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but I hate that terrible slurping and grunting. There's nothing wrong with it, of course, but some people like it, and I don't.
He started breathing heavily. So he likes it. He strokes my hair from above. Great. And again a voice above my head: "You know, I still have one rubber left... not chewing gum, the other kind..." That's him. "Cool... I'm all for it." That's me.
He pulled away and kissed me. No guy ever kissed me on the lips right after a blowjob, they considered it something disgusting. But he kissed me. Thanked me for the pleasure delivered. I told you, he's a noble prince.
But where are we going to have sex? Both of us are at our limit, we don't want to run to another place, and here — it's all twigs. If we do it doggy style, one of them will inevitably poke me in the eye. Leaning against the tree with my back is even more impossible because of those same twigs. Idea. Cursing, I untie the laces on my sneakers, yank them off to hell, after them — my pants, throw them under my butt as a mat and call the prince. My bag wasn't under my head at that moment anymore, it was lying somewhere nearby, but I couldn't care less about that.
End of August. Night forest. And two young people, fucking under a fir tree on bare ground, fiercely and with rapture. In my opinion, it's beautiful. And most importantly, unexpected.
Neo-romanticism, in short.
"I still can't believe that happened... It's like we just went out for a walk..."
"Don't even say it. My first time was so unexpected..."
"Mine too..."
"Yeah... In a barley stack, or on a strawberry field, or on a beach — anyone can do that. But like this, in a northern way, under a fir tree — that's more our style..."
He kissed me goodbye.
We still constantly chat online, even planning to meet and walk again when it gets warmer... But not a word about sex. It's hurtful... Of course, it's autumn now, and in autumn the prince always gets depressed. And he's very busy with work. And in general, he's a shy person, he won't start making advances until the girl herself suggests it. But I can't shake the thought that he doesn't need me at all. Except maybe as a pleasant conversationalist... I'm just an insufferable, overly drinking, always ruining everything brat. Maybe that girl in the blue dress with a braid down to her waist still lives in my soul, but externally it's completely unnoticeable...
And he — is a prince. Without exaggeration.
The other day I shared my thoughts with my brother, and he said an encouraging phrase: "Don't worry for no reason... If you had such an awesome fuck, it means you're both drawn to each other, and it's not just another fling. You'll have more. Seriously." My brother is a hopeless romantic and idealist.
Although anything is possible... Or maybe not.
Everything is very uncertain, but that's what's calming...