The second thing that caught my eye was the bed—freshly made. The cuddler sat in the same spot on the far side of the mattress, leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs. He remained little more than a shadow in the darkness, faintly silhouetted against the blinds as the streetlamps outside seeped weakly between the black slats in thin, horizontal stripes.
I stared at his back, unable to look away; it was my first time really seeing him, even though I couldn’t make out much. Something about his silhouette, the way he sat hunched forward, almost tense… gave off a sense ofvulnerability. I’d imagined him years older than me—early to mid-thirties, maybe—but now I wasn’t so sure. I believed hewasolder, but maybe notas muchas I’d first thought.
Did this change my feelings about the situation? No. No, it didn’t. I preferred older men, whether just a little or a lot older than I was.
I walked to the bed, naked as a jaybird, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, the soft threads weaving between my toes,making no sound at all. As I drew closer, my heart skipped—it was doing that a lot tonight—when I saw the single rose lying on my pillow in the shadows. I stood and stared at it, my pulse picking up speed.
I picked up the rose and touched it to my nose, my gaze shifting to the cuddler as my heart performed a funnyflip-flopit hadneverdone before. A completelynewsensation that, at once,thrilledme—and scared thefuckout of me.
Holy shit, is this what LOVE feels like? Was I falling for him?! Was he falling for…?
Ascrazyas this night was—as crazy asIwas—it still couldn’t possibly bethatcrazy… right? Just because he lit a candle and left aroseon my pillow didn’t mean…
My attention was suddenly drawn to the nightstand. There, in the glow of the tea-light candle, were three tiny, pink, heart-shaped Valentine’s Day candies, with two little words stamped in red on the chalky surface of each.
Be Mine. I’m Yours. Hard Pass.
I’d never been in shock before, but I thought the feeling coming over me then was what it must feel like. I sank onto the bed, every ounce of strength leaving me, the rose pinched between my fingers as I stared at the three candy pieces.
My lips pressed tight as a small laugh tried to escape.Hard Pass.Why did that tickle my funny bone? I numbly reached for one of the candy hearts, and my hand shook—actually fuckingshook—as I plucked it from the nightstand. The tiny pink heart nestled in my palm, my eyes glued to the two words:I’m yours.
I sat there for what felt like much longer than it actually was, reading those two words over and over. Across the bed from me, I felt the cuddler shift slightly and quietly let out an uneven breath. Was henervous?Did he think I might choose theHard Pass?What would he do if Idid?Just get up and leave?Murderme?
Why take chances, right?
Okay, I didn’treallythink he wouldunaliveme if I rejected him. That didn’t feel like where this “relationship” was headed. It didn’t matter, anyway; I’d made my choice.
I laid the rose on the nightstand, then leaned over and set the heart-shaped candy on his pillow.I’m Yours. I sat forward again. The cuddler, almost tentatively, plucked the candy from its cottony bed and sat quietly.
I softly blew out the candle, then lay face down on the bed, arms tucked under my pillow, head turned away… and waited.
6
Nervousness took hold—nervousexcitement—as if I were about to make love for the first time in my life. Maybe I was. My first timefuckingfelt nothing likethis.I was sixteen, awkward, didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and neither did my partner. We were both in the closet and scared shitless someone would catch us. He was afraid tocatch, afraid it would hurt, so I let himpitch.Turns out, he was right—itdidhurt.
As I said, we didn’t know what we were doing; just a couple of horny kids eager to dip our wicks. He didn’t “prepare” me for his cock—we didn’t know that was something we were supposed to do. Hence, I was tight as a fucking drum. Luckily, we had enough sense to use lube, but when he pushed in—my ass still saidno.
I had second thoughts, but he pushed harder. The faces I made were not pretty—teeth gritted, expression contorted, eyes bugged out—but I took it. A few “pumps” later, my ass was full of cum. He pulled out, flopping on the bed, panting and grinning like a fool, as if he’d justrockedboth our worlds.
He hadn’t. Notmine,anyway. I didn’t even get to cum. But the pain in my ass had killed my erection anyway, so… whatever. I’d had visions of grandeur leading up to that first fuck—I had watched a lot, and I do meana lot,of gay porn. Suffice to say, I was foolishly expectingfireworks.At most, I got asparkler.If that.
After that lackluster experience, I wasn’t ready to bottom again. The second, and last time, we fucked,Ipitched. Again, we didn’tprepare.His experience was the same as mine. I barely got my dick in him before he squealed in pain and made me pull out, which didn’t seem fair, but I wasn’t going toforcehim. I ended up jerking off alone.
Later, he told me he didn’t want to do it anymore unless I bottomed. I said no. That was the end of it. No more bedroom experiments for us. No more friendship, either. He thought I was a jerk for not letting him keep fucking me, saying he knew it didn’t hurt as much for me to bottom as it did for him. Not true—I just handled pain better.
Even as I grew older, learned more, and found more experienced partners… it was still justfucking.I got fireworks now and then, but nothing that made me want to stick around. I’ve never been in a “serious” relationship with someone I truly believed I was in love with. And no one’s ever beenin lovewith me. I didn’t even know how that might feel—tobein love… or justbe loved.
Until the cuddler.
Lying there in the dark, my heart thrumming in my chest, feeling more exposed than ever in my life… I felt like avirginagain.
Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.
Exactly.
As if my entire sexual history—what there was of it—had been wiped clean, leaving me “fresh and new.” There were a couple ofexperiencesin my past so filthy that I wouldn’t have believed Icouldfeel “fresh” again. But as I lay there, naked on my bed, waiting for the cuddler to come to me, I didn’t feel dirty or used. I felt brand new. SopristineI was fuckingsparkling.
Something I didn’t know I needed… until I felt it.
