The Last Gent

Honey

I remember the day I first ate your pussy. To this day, I have enjoyed no other. It was dark outside, but probably a little after noon. Your boyfriend had just walked down the stairs, waiting for a taxi to go home and I was already in your bed, feeling like your man. Dairy milk was your trademark taste and Rihanna Unforgiven was the smell as you sat on my face. I was licking on your clit while my hands were on your voluptuous ass with a deadly anaconda squeeze that refused to let go. At that moment, I told myself that you would be mine-but, the truth was, I was already yours; a slave for you because of the feelings I developed from three years of our prior friendship.

Even after our sexual encounters, I felt guilty every time because no matter how many times you ignored your boyfriend calls in front of me, to show me in the moment that your interest was on me, it meant nothing. When I left your presence, I meant nothing, but I was trapped. With every action, every thought, I felt like you had full control-almost trained in a hereditary sense because of your mom's ill feelings towards your dad; programmed to never be satisfied. "Corey, you don't love me like he does," was the constant line you used as a way to keep me in check. I wonder if you rode the fence using the same line on the other guy, just a substitution of names.

Angelic white was what you had on the first time I laid my eyes on you at the high school fundraiser. You walked in-sync with the music (Buy You a Drink by T-Pain) almost as if you timed it. I remembered how disappointed I was when I found out that you were my friend's ex-girlfriend-a symbol meaning that no one should even attempt to know you. All five us walked back to your father's house for refreshments. I might be crazy, but it felt like it was just the two of us because of our eye contact. After we used your father as a checkpoint, my friends and I left-my heart wanting to stay and say, "Fuck it... I want to get to know you." But, I lacked the courage, or maybe I had the common sense to walk away; honestly, to this day I don't know the difference.

Finally, I reached home and my mom asked if something was the matter, as she could tell that something was bothering me. I didn't even respond; I just faded away into the darkness of my room. As I sat there thinking, suddenly my phone rang and I answered with, "Who is this?" To my surprise, it was you responding to a missed call my friend had made because his battery died earlier, before we met. A sensation of relief vibrated through my body as I asked if it was ok for us to exchange numbers, officially-not knowing that it was a blessing to come, but a burden to inherit.

As the weeks passed, I began thinking about how couldn't I live without you. You became my best friend and that prominent female figure in my life. Conversations on the phone three times a day every day, I still wonder how we slept as it felt like we were always together mentally and physically. Soon after, you told me that your boyfriend at the time was going through some problems. When you finished school-I believe on a Wednesday afternoon-you came across to my house and, although it's been five years, I still remember hugging you. Honestly, you had my heart; I just didn't know how to express myself because of a low self-esteem at that time in my life, as well as wounds from my father and surroundings.

After we started playing around, I led you to the guest room of my house so we could have some privacy, as my sisters would be coming home shortly. As I locked the door, you immediately sat on the bed, signifying that you were ready to be pleased and no more games would be played. When I came across the room, my heart started pounding. I was nervous because, to me, it didn't feel right since you had a boyfriend. As you pulled your lingerie down, I could see your moist regions. I quickly jumped off and told you that my dad was on his way. Honesty, I lied; I was nervous and intimidated by the stories you told me of your past lovers and I was not trying to embarrass myself. You had more experience than me; to this day you probably don't know, but I regret not taking action that day. If I had, maybe you could have been mine and I could have saved you from your future self.