His thick thighs, muscular and damn near furry with hair would press against me, his hand would find its way to my hair. But, Baylor’s lips and other hand wouldn’t stop. We never got to too much edging; we were too eager with too short of refractory periods to care about that.
Ah, youth.
No, Baylor would keep going, relentless with his kisses — a press of lips I can still feel — and his hands, stroking my dick and cupping my balls until I was panting against him. He would make me come first, like this, then fuck me into the mattress until I came again.
Even now a whine escapes my lips.
I fucking miss that. I miss sex that could be rough because I trusted my partner. I miss the romance that was always in Baylor’s touch, his kiss.
Miss it being his hands, his lips.
I misshim.
I miss the quiet man who has the words I don’t for how I feel about him. Every song he writes, I could have written about him if I only had the words. Words he writes about someone else. About a life I don’t know.
I miss the feel of his body against mine. Of waking up in his arms.
I miss the weight of the emotional anchor that is Baylor Mann, tethering me to Earth.
My body rocks into my hand and the fantasy that is fueling it plays on a loop and I come hard, just like I always do when it’s Baylor. Hard enough to erase finding release with someone else backstage last night. Or this morning. Whatever.
Baylor wasn’t my first, and he hasn’t been the only. But, I can’t even remember my own first time clearly anymore, the memory of losing my v-card overshadowed by sex with Baylor. That’s the seminal sexual experience of my life — not something as simple as virginity.
I rememberourfirst time. Our first everything. I don’t remember any other dick, any other mouth.
These days, I barely undress enough to get the job done. I always leave my lovers satisfied, but I don’t want pictures of my junk all over the internet. There isn’t enough of a connection with any hook-up to trust them not to try shit like that. One guy even tried to steal my used condom. Well, one guy that I know of. It was months after that before I even tried another hookup.
Right now, on this bus, even after thirteen years I could still draw you a perfect picture of Baylor Mann’s glorious cock. Nine inches of cut, thick perfection that made me dizzy on sight and made me come screaming his name enough to be put on vocal rest.
I could not even give you a decent description of the face of any person I have fucked since.
The cool of my release on my legs and abdomen remind me that I am just laying here in the early morning, my mind just as alert. So much for sleeping.
Sometimes, I can come hard and go back to sleep, but this will not be one of those mornings because as I come down off my orgasm high I feel the wetness on my cheeks.
I came hard and cried. Pathetic, maybe, but definitely not new.
Poor little rockstar, I chide myself as I pull myself through the routine of a shower and go sit at the kitchen table with coffee and my laptop. Caleb comes out of the other bedroom — our bus custom with two bedrooms, mine with a door and his more a cubby with a curtain, and only one lounge and the tiny kitchen. The solid wall of muscle is my bodyguard and the husband of my best friend and PA, Nix.
He shoots me a look and begins the coffee, making it just like Nix and I like.
“You’re up early; want a run?” he asks, casually leaning against the counter, and taking up damn near all of it with his bulk. “We have time before the thing this morning and we get moving.”
His build is muscle on muscle with these fucking gorgeous hazel eyes, and with my girl Nix, he’s sweet as a kitten. He’s not though, not really — he’s a former Marine for fucks sake who smells out danger like I can smell out the right set list. I’ve seen Caleb move way too fast for someone his size, and walk back paparazzi with nothing more than a flat stare and a shift of his arms.
I smile as the woman herself comes out, all cute and curvy plumpness with short, wavy, almost black hair. I watch as Caleb eats up the look of her in pajama pants and a tank top, as she pulls a hoodie on against the constant bus chill when it’s parked. Thankfully, I have never actually heard or walked in on them having sex. But I have definitely seen the signs that it was about to go down when they take off together or what has just happened when I see them again. Jealousy and happiness for my friend collide like always.
Who wouldn't want their spouse to look at them like these two are right now, even though they just spent the night curled tightly together?
I’ve seen so many skinny bitches try to make a play for Caleb, even to the point of ignoring his wedding ring or Nix by his side. That never ends well for the ladies. Those two are in love. The real, deep, inseparable kind.
And so am I.
Can you be in love with a memory?
‘Cause that’s how it feels with you and me.
I sigh. There’s a reason that line was the one that took off from one of our first hits,Midnight Blue.
