He remembered Adrian’s fingers grazing his skin and the buzz that followed, the way he kissed down his stomach and licked him, how he kneed his ass while admiring his cock.“You are so damn sexy, Lo,”he heardthe fantom of Adrian’s voice as he lavished attention on his dick like a desperate man.
His eyes were closed as he let the memory engulf him. Logan’s dick finally came to life, showing interest in the memory of the man of his dreams. “You take my finger so well,”he heard Adrian’s voice, the husky way he’d said it, the way his breath ghosted over Logan’s skin.“I want to eat you out,”Logan audibly groaned as those words played in the depths of his mind.
Then Sandy let him go and pulled him to the bed as she lay on her front, spreading her legs and inviting him in.
Logan reached for a condom from the nightstand, even though he knew Sandy was on the pill, Logan wasn’t willing to take any chances with pregnancy.
He got himself ready and stroked himself a bit as he felt his passion cooling down. His hands tugged the little thong, pulling it down from Sandy’s body. Almost mechanically, he positioned himself against her entrance and filled her with one push, making her moan. Dissociating himself from this scenario, from the moment, from the life he was trapped in, he drove in and out of her. At this point, Logan did not know if it was actually related to Sandy or to the deep melancholy that suffocated him, taking his air, and drowning him.
Sandy reached between her thighs and started rubbing her pussy as Logan continued fucking in and out of her. Her moans and whimpers fill the room, and she screamed as her orgasm ripped through her body, shaking and quivering around Logan, who was far behind her.
He moved within her with the rhythm of someone keeping time, each thrust a heartbeat closer to silence. His body obeyed its duty, but his minddrifted elsewhere, to the man whose touch still haunted the edges of his skin. He counted the moments, not in pleasure, but in escape, each breath a quiet plea for it to end.
She bit her lip beneath him, her body trembling with life, while his remained elsewhere, hollowed by absence. The room pulsed with her sounds, with the illusion of closeness, yet he felt nothing but the slow suffocation of repetition. It was not desire, but endurance, not love, but the dull choreography of need and guilt.
He closed his eyes as she came, not to savor it, but to vanish, to slip back into the dream of another body, another truth, one he could never name aloud.
Eventually, the sounds in his head swelled into noise, drowning her soft breaths. He withdrew, half-hard, half-ghost, the weight of her body fading beneath his hands. What lingered was not release, but the hollow ache of unfinished desire, the taste of someone else’s name on his tongue, swallowed before it could escape.
“I… can’t come.” He said silently.
She was panting and turned around to him. “Keep going,” she urged, her hand softly touching his thigh.
Logan wiped the sweat from his forehead and shook his head. “It’s… just not. I, hum… guess I’m just tired from work, and… there is that someone… thing. Something with work… that I… have to do—” he started mumbling, trying to find excuses as to why his sexy-as-hell wife wasn’t enough to get him off.
Sandy took her thong completely off herself, then her bra, leaving her wearing only the suspender belt and the chiffon-laced thighs.
“What do you want me to do, Logan?” she asked softly, palming one of her breasts.
Shame engulfed him as he watched her loving eyes gazing at him. She was probably willing to fulfill every bedroom wish he had, no matter what came to mind. And he knew she wouldn’t drop the subject if he asked her to just leave it alone, that he was too tired to come right now.
He sat in silence for several minutes, trying to find something to say to her. He couldn’t understand what was different about today. When they had had sex previously, Logan managed to get himself off, at least to calm his body’s needs.
He gazed at the lifesaver bracelet on his wrist, its charm shimmering like the first day he received it. It still carried the essence of salty ocean air, cool water, and soft sand.
Even now, as he stood firmly on solid ground and breathed freely without struggle, it continued to protect him in its own quiet way. Each day, it offered a gentle reminder that the memories he held were not merely figments of his imagination but tangible pieces of his Adrian.
“Porn maybe…?” she suddenly offered and rose to her feet.
“Wha…?” He blurted out. “Yeah, okay.” He managed to say.
“Your laptop is here?” she asked.
No way was he going to let her touch his laptop. He would never let any living soul look at this device for even a second. His laptop contained a world he wasn’t ready to share, a place where secrets and personal reflections were safely tucked away from prying eyes.
He shook his head, and she went for a second, then came back to the room carrying her own. Sandy typed on the keys and the screen.
“What do you want?” she asked silently, sitting on the bed with the laptop next to her.
“I… hum.” He started and felt himself blushing in embarrassment as he watched the little pictures that represented videos and categories.
“Don’t be shy with me, Logan. When you watch porn, what do you like?” she asked, her little soft smile easing his embarrassment a bit.
When he watched porn… it was always the same type. Always men who looked likehim—tanned skin, muscular build, long hair that had some blond sun-kissed strands in it, a perfect mix of soldier and surfer. That rare, impossible blend that only Adrian had ever truly embodied.
There weren’t many videos that fit the mold. Not enough to satisfy the ghost of what he craved. But it never really mattered. Because in the end, when he got himself off—on the rare occasions he even felt the need—his mind never needed substitutes. It was always Adrian.
It was Adrian’s hands he felt, Adrian’s voice in his ear, Adrian’s body pressing into him, claiming him, undoing him. The memories were sharper than any fantasy, burned into his skin, etched into his bones.
