How I met Jeremy

It began with José, of course. Flamboyant José. Who would not take any woman as equal, who was so damn macho that sometimes it made him look like a child. José who’d take your hands and show you how to please him, José who was never in one place for long but stayed with me for a while. For him, this while was greater and longer that any other and he was surprised by it.

His usual routine was to come back, late at night, from stripdancing. I was already sleeping by then, and he smelled like sweat and unsatisfied sex; I could feel him then as he thought no woman ever would. Natural. He was cuddling behind me, in my half-sleep, was burying his nose in my hair and whispering some “I love you” in Spanish, kissing the back of my head. As soon as he was feeling me awaking, his persona always switched and the macho man surfaced… I loved him so. He was younger than me, I felt like we both could teach one another. Both could learn so much… he introduced me to things I never even knew existed.

He was my extrovert side. Even if I never have been really shy, he pushed my limits, made me exhibit myself for his pleasure and sometimes his amusement, kissed me like there was no tomorrow, masturbated me in every cab we took, pressed my naked breasts against the window while he was taking me from behind, he took me out of myself.

One late night, José came home with his friend Jeremy. The contrast of those two men was so great, never one would have ever thought they could be friends. Tall versus short. Strong and athletic versus skinny and frail. Loud mouth versus silence. Vanity versus pure intelligence. And Jeremy stayed there, the whole night, while we smoked and laugh, silent in his stare at me, silent in his dream world. When José started to kiss me, as he always did, kissing me as he lived, bluntly, Jeremy just sat back and looked. It was the very first time I had a crowd as obvious as this one. I still remember his lucidity, his taking us in, like a picture being taken of my soul being kissed and later fucked.

And while the cars’ lights kept sweeping my bedroom through the drapeless windows, sweeping over my bed and us on it, I had José’s mouth all over me, like a vampire offering me his eternity, and Jeremy who watched. Soon my t-shirt was dragged up, soon my breasts were offered for him to see, José never touching it, just exposing me as his trophy and, to tell the truth, I really didn’t care, for it felt so damn good…

He just took my pleasure as he knew where it was. His direct ways pleased me, they didn’t bury me in this female stereotype of a woman who must be aroused, must be seduced, licking ears or kissing her fingers… of a woman who must be recited all kind of false love declaration, who must be conquered with obscured caresses and all of the Kama Sutra…

No, he never approached me as if he ignored where my pleasure was, he honoured me by not making me feel like a dumb one. They were there, my pleasures. They were offered, awaiting already and didn’t want anything else than his hands and body.

So he took me, his hands in between my legs, my breasts the only part of me naked and showing, his mouth kissing me like no one ever did before. And in front of him, in front of the watcher, I came. And fell asleep. In José’s arms, while he continued to kiss me and caress my hair with his hand moist of my own waters, I simply fell asleep while they talked about music and planned their week-end.
That’s how I met Jeremy.