i Use to be a fan of the one night stand. There were no emotions, you both knew what was going to happen after the sex, no I'll call you later, so I would wait for that call. Just pure lust, human needs being filled, I learned how to fuck like a man. I learned that you can have sex without commitment. I had a period of six months were I lived for these one night stands. The one man I always wanted one with I never had, until recently. I am so glad I had to wait almost 7 years to be under his power and control. I thought he would be another one night stand until I started talking to him, he would talk and hold up his end of the conversation. He almost lingers on my words. He listens with this content way of getting to know me again that it makes me want him even more. I try to remember everythign that he tells me. I try so hard to push all the useless information I have stored up in my brain to fit what he tells me. He calls me baby, and babe and it makes me feel alive. He likes my friends, and I hope I'll like his. He likes me for who I am, and I have never had that. I had to act like I was tough, or sweet, I was not allowed to be me. With him he just wants me to relax, enjoy the moment, be spontanious except in the middle of the night. He lets me know it is not rejection but that he needs his sleep. He makes me laugh, he makes me wait, he teases me, he makes me studder. He makes me want to tell the world about this amazing feeling, that only he has been able to unearth. He makes songs make sense to me finally. He is probably the type of man Elizabeth Barret Browning wrote about. He is a John Keats poem, one I could read over and over again, try to memorize so that I could go to an open mic night and make the crowd understand what he does for and to me. I have his face memorized, his movements, his hands, his thighs, his looks. I simply want to memorize what he tells me.
