The room was completely dark except for the thin light rays from the lamp post across the road beaming through the curtains which were clumsy pushed together. drank some wine earlier and was feeling tipsy. I was also horny as fuck but couldn’t get myself to touch him since I came back. ‘I have to get over it’ i said to myself. We started making out. I couldn’t see him but only felt his skin against mine and heard occasional ahhs and oohs he made. I tried to picture his face but all I could think of was some hair, lots of hair. I was illusioned and pained. Forced myself to wake up from that illusion and concentrate on the moment but I was estranged from him. It felt so wrong to be with this man, so inappropriate and ugly. A wave of guilt, disgust and upset washed over me and I started crying. More than 5 years ago, when he touched me for the first time on this very coach, there was guilt again but along with pleasure. I cried even more.
He was so gentle and soft all the time -when he kissed me, when he fucked me, even when he was angry with me. He said are you ok. I said i felt strange. He stopped. We slept.
In the morning, before he said good morning he asked ‘Do you still love me?’
I love him. I loved him. For 5 years. What now?