What means to Fuck you now

During this past month, he has been feeling melancholic and depressed.

He hardly ever goes out; I caught sight of him a few times appearing on the verge of tears...

Three weeks ago, he confided in me, and I empathized with him as I am familiar with the same emotions. My relationship with Nico's father mirrors his, yet the tendency to endure suffering can cloud our perception of it.

On a Thursday early in the month, I realized he was more than I had believed. He spent over an hour talking to me about the experience of losing oneself to satisfy someone who betrays you, acknowledging the pain, yet remaining true to his word and honoring his commitments.

As he spoke with tears in his eyes, I shared with him the advice I had once given myself. Having endured a toxic relationship for a decade, he was only in the initial year...

The conversation was incredibly deep and meaningful, resembling a couple overcoming their shared traumas. Despite my greater experience in the matter, he possesses a remarkable ability to articulate it and an impressive wisdom for someone ten years my junior.

He sat atop the chest in the kitchen, while I was standing between his legs, laughing and trying to maintain a light-hearted atmosphere, avoiding internalizing the negativity surrounding our emotional turmoil.

I acted like an infatuated teenager, feeling now a bit embarrassed about it, but I provided him with what he needed - hope, a touch of joy, and encouragement for his aching heart. He is suffering more than I am, after all. It's all very fresh, and a man rarely accepts even half of what he is enduring.

After coming off the chest of a top drawer in the kitchen, he takes my hand and expresses a desire to watch something on TV. we go to the living room and i turn on the tv and I play music, I sit close to him, captivated by his flawless eyebrows, plump and beautiful lips that appear meticulously crafted, his sorrowful and teary eyes reflecting self-disappointment. Consuming most of the wine has left him unable to handle much, exacerbated by excessive marijuana consumption, rendering him vulnerable. Despite my reluctance to engage closely, I sense my spiritual strength compelled to alleviate his distress in that moment. I kiss and embrace him, aiming to absorb his pain, aware that I possess better coping mechanisms. Overwhelmed, I remove his boxers, driven by a desire to intimately connect with him, wishing to bring him comfort.

I began to press and rubing myself against him, feeling his arousal, yet he refrained from touching me much. His gaze was intense and sorrowful simultaneously. I sensed guilt for taking advantage of him, so I stopped and embraced him tightly for what felt like an eternity. Passionate kisses i was giving towards his face and lips, my desire for him was causing him pain. I could tell he didn't want it, but he couldn't resist. Without delay, he penetrated me, and we engaged in a brief yet profound moment that left me hurting in the end...

He climaxed inside me, his silence echoing loudly as I felt the aftermath of our encounter. The melancholic expression remained...

I rose and went to clean myself, removing what he had left inside me. I felt remorseful; he simply wanted to converse...

Seeing him standing by the TV near the door, I urged him to wash himself at least. He complied, resembling a lost child...

He cleaned up and departed...ashamed and bashful, a side of him I had never witnessed before.

A week went by without him calling after that shameful thursday , but on the next Friday, he attempted to contact me. I deliberately avoided meeting him, not wanting to take advantage of the situation again. However, he showed up three days later on a Monday and behaved possessively towards me. When I expressed my desire to take things slow that day, he proceeded to have sex with me without even cleaning up afterwards. He left without washing up, and moments later, his girlfriend arrived at his place. Despite his lingering sadness, I could sense his inner turmoil every time we crossed paths in the building. The initial excitement and enjoyment of our encounters had transformed into something unfamiliar and unwelcome to me. Consequently, I chose not to respond to his messages or calls, feeling emotionally detached and unavailable.

The second intimate encounter in that difficult month was brief, lasting only 5 minutes before he ejaculated. He seemed more interested in hugging and kissing me than in the act itself, which left me feeling perplexed. I was growing weary of his despondent state...

Not long after, within 4 days, he returned, visibly troubled by something. He appeared anxious, constantly checking his phone and peering out the window while smoking, seeking my assistance in identifying passing cars. My patience was wearing thin as I tried to engage with him, all the while dealing with my own issues. He reclined on the window by the kitchen and requested stories about wine, a task that felt forced and lasted 45 minutes.

I kept my distance, feeling drained by his behavior. It was a peculiar Friday, and I was exhausted from his demeanor mirroring my own. He sensed my lack of enthusiasm and I refrained from physical contact when he positioned himself on the chest of the drawer of the kitchen he so much enjoyed sitting. He wanted closeness, but I no longer desired it. If he sought to confide about his partner about his frustrations, rather than ending things abruptly, expressing his weariness of forcing a connection, I recognized the pattern all too well. I had endured a similar situation for a decade with Nico's father. Witnessing it in someone else was exasperating...

As he was about to depart, he requested a hug, to which I acquiesced. He lingered, inhaling the scent of my neck and hair so intensely that it seemed as though he desired a kiss. However, I did not reciprocate this sentiment. He remained there, savoring the fragrance, expressing his enjoyment of being in my company. He conveyed feeling accepted, at ease, and unburdened by judgment. He professed his fondness for my scent and expressed a desire to meet up soon, to share drinks, laughter, and carefree enjoyment, without any pretense.

I hardly spoke, simply providing him with the physical contact he craved so much, it was the best I could offer... I was feeling socially withdrawn...

He left but kept seeking contact through messages... I responded briefly and went to bed...

However, the following day... yesterday... he visited twice, first to borrow a cigarette, now I hold onto his cigarettes, knowing that his request indicates urgent situations... Following the handover, he expressed frustration at having called me multiple times and waiting to depart, but assured me he would contact me upon arrival, noting that he intended to make a brief visit as he wished to see me afterwards. I remained awake for an hour before succumbing to a profound slumber. Due to a shoulder injury on my left side a few months ago, I took pain medication that restricted my mobility and drained my energy. The pain became intolerable, causing me to eventually pass out.

He called me at 3 in the morning, and I nervously picked up the phone. He required assistance to enter the building due to a power failure, a common occurrence in the old building. I allowed him in, assuming he was going to his apartment. However, as I turned around after entering, he jokingly slapped my buttocks, igniting excitement in me. Before we could even shut the door, he started undressing me. The loud noise of the door closing woke me up abruptly for real now, and we quickly undressed. I lay on the couch, still feeling dazed from sleep, as he kissed me passionately, making it hard to express my pleasure. Throughout the intense encounter, he kept kissing me non-stop, leaving me breathless.

It turned out to be the most intense missionary position of my life. His strong penetration stirred something deep inside me as he skillfully moved within me, hitting spots that caused a blend of pleasure and pain, muffled by his captivating kiss.

Feeling his large presence on top of me, penetrating me with vigor and depth, unleashed a sense of uncontrollable pleasure within me... I craved to climax, but knew I wouldn't be able to release him from within me... he was fully focused on kissing me and thrusting with intensity... in a way I hadn't experienced in a long time, he took charge as if he owned that moment, it was truly amazing, just the memory of it arouses me once more, 45 minutes of pure passion without a word spoken... he slipped away momentarily but then resumed his position... his desire was so strong that there wasn't even time to move to the bed... yet it felt right, like we were in sync again, a perfect kiss as if I were embracing my true man... his muscular and imposing body growing larger and larger... while I remained the fragile, enraptured girl at his mercy... caressing his buttocks, arms, and back, I felt the lust of a teenager exploring sex for the first time... His scent... intoxicatingly sensual...

As we approached climax, a sensuous moan escaped amidst our kiss, our heavy breaths intertwining, he paused the kiss and let out a loud, satisfying moan... without withdrawing from me first, he released himself on top of me. I was drenched in cum... so much so that my face until my thighs got wet... it felt like an experience long overdue... I remarked that it's refreshing... good for the skin... he chuckled and I hastily got up, feeling a bit lightheaded... rushing to the bathroom to freshen up... I overheard him asking if he could put on his shoes...

He lit a cigarette and rested against the window in my laundry room, facing his apartment, listening and singing along to music from his phone while staring outside. I relaxed without waiting for him to finish his song and smoke before leaving. It was already past 4 am, and tiredness started to set in. He departed without spending even 5 minutes, sending me a picture of a piercing that wasn't mine. I laughed and clarified that it wasn't mine, perhaps a subtle test of my jealousy, which I simply do not possess, something that does not resonate with me. I had seen him countless times with his girlfriend for as long as I can remember.

Jealousy isn't something I typically experience, especially when my sexual partner doesn't either... I see myself as a mirror... and he's always transparent with me, I sense no deception...