Chapter 14 – Chapter 14

There was something about being away from him. During my week in Dallas, I decided I could not be JJ's sexless lover. I needed and wanted more, he couldn't or wouldn't provide it, and his presence would inhibit my ability to find it elsewhere.

I also had great sex. While Barrett and I weren't generally compatible, we were definitely bedroom compatible.

"Jesus," he said, the morning I was leaving, after surprising me in the shower with a furtive blow job and then a ravenous dicking from behind. "I've had more sex this week than I've had in most months, and I have a lot of sex."

"It's been great," I said. "But, my dick is just about dead and my ass is wrecked. It's good that I'm leaving. I couldn't take much more."

"I could. I love your ass. It's fierce."

"Well, I love your dick. It's fierce."

Our dicks were similar. Neither was long, but both were thick. During one of our sessions, he held them together and announced "they could be twins."

I corrected him. "Aside from the mole on the right side of mine, they could be identical twins."

"Mine's more vocal."

"More vocal?"

"I was being funny. I shoot more."

He was right. I don't know where he stored it, as his testes were not big. But, he pumped a massive amount out every time he came, no matter how many times he had already come. It was astonishing.

To bid him adieu, I took one last load as he drove me to the airport, my head bobbing in his lap as the mile markers whipped by.

"Don't talk to the other passengers," he said, hugging me good-bye and squeezing my fierce ass. "Or they'll know what you've been up to…. Your mouth smells like cum."

I licked my lips. "Tastes like it, too."

*****

When I arrived back in Madison, I arrived to a very large box in front of my apartment door. I opened the note first:

H:

Sorry, I should have given this to you before you left. Instead, I was petulant. Anyway, congratulations on your graduation.

Yours,

JJ

He was not mine. I wanted him to be, but he was not.

I opened the box to find smaller boxes. The first was long and slender and, when I opened it, held a tie. It was purple (my favorite color) with silver stripes (my favorite pattern).

"For leverage the first time someone really kisses you," the note said.

The next box was larger. It held a purple swimming suit and a white, insulated, waterproof top.

"For the water," the note said.

The next box was about the same. It held purple cycling shorts, a purple cycling shirt, and a purple cycling hat with a tiny bill.

"For the ride," the notes said. "Although, looking at it now, it may be 'Barney Rides a Bike'. I should have gone with the white shirt."

The next box was about the same. It held purple running shorts and a white running shirt.

"For the run," the note said. "And, I learned my lesson. See prior box. All purple not repeated."

There were not more boxes, but there were more gifts. The first was a book — "Peace Like a River" — with a note that said "For the mind."

The second was also a book — "Healthy Eating for Healthy Living" — with a note that said "For the body."

The final was also a book — "The Seven Story Mountain" — with a note that said "For the spirt."

At the bottom of the box, there was a letter, folded, but not in an envelope. It was tri-folded and sealed with a gold sticker, but not a Gold Crown sticker.

I peeled the sticker open gently and unfolded the letter. In JJ's tidy script, it said:

I know this isn't easy on you. If it's any consolation, it's not easy on me, either.

I know you want more. If it's any consolation, I do, too.

I know you love me. If it's any consolation, I love you, too.

Very.

Very.

Much.

[Please note the effusiveness of the double "very." When you have stopped noting and can breathe again, read on.].

I know it doesn't make it any better for you, but….

I'm happy when I'm with you.

I miss you the moment you're gone.

I'm bereft when those moments add up.

I'm giddy when they evanesce.

I'm happy when I'm again with you.

I know this is a lot for you. Rest assured, it's also a lot for me. Just putting the words down is breaking me.

But, I also know that I'm breaking you.

I'm so sorry that I can't act on the above and give you what you want, what you deserve.

And, I know that what I'm offering is unacceptable. [If you were offering it to me, I'd scoff at it.].

I don't know where that leaves us, but I understand if it means you leave me. If the tables were turned, I'd leave you.

Heavy stuff, that.

Too heavy for me to keep at it.

So, with all that I am, congratulations, H.

I am proud of and I love you.

And, even when it doesn't seem like it, I'm

Yours, JJ

PS I wanted to inscribe the books, but "no evidence." So, there is no inscription, but "Love, JJ" is on every flipping page.

PPS Please burn this letter. Don't keep it, no matter how much you want to keep it. Because, someone will find it. "No evidence."

I had never received a more thoughtful collection of gifts. They didn't seem very JJ to me. He was not sentimental, and the gifts were.

I had also never received a more revelatory letter. It, too, didn't seem very JJ. He played his cards close to the vest; he didn't splay them on the table.

I ignored his request. I did not burn the letter. When you receive a letter like that, you hold onto it, so you can return to it, so — when you're down and out or grey and almost gone — you can re-read it and remember "I once moved someone that much" or reflect "I remember when, for the first time in my life, someone else laid himself bare."

I also pulled back my "I can't be JJ's sexless lover" card. I could no longer play it.