So my three faithful readers (you know who you are) may be wondering what happened with Jen, my more-off-than-on ex-girlfriend. I wrote this a while ago, but I didn’t want to ruin the Holiday Spirits by posting it (or something) We left off at Birthday Sex.
The good thing about working on a Saturday is I can cry at my cubicle as much as I want.
So Jen and I were getting pretty deep in our conversations on the phone. She even told me she loved me…with just the right amount of awkwardness and self-effacement. In no time she had me opening my heart back up to her. I was feeling close to her.
She said if I came over last night she wanted me to bring whipped cream so she could lick it off my nipples.
But when I got there she barely wanted to touch me. I know she thought I just wanted sex from her…but I wanted intimacy as much as anything else. I wanted her to kiss and hold me and talk with me as much as fuck me. I know I can be over-eager–I need to work on that–but she was so cold to me.
Then the next thing I know she’s got her shorts off asking me if I want her to sit on my face. I told her I wanted her to kiss me, and she said “there’s no way that’s happening.”
So like a fool I sucked her until she decided she was done. I wanted so badly for her to hold me, touch me in return. Then she put a robe on and told me to get dressed. I felt so used like a fucking sex toy.
Why do I keep opening myself up to let her hurt me?