Introduction:
The worst thing for a guy to do is lose his mystery.
My girl and I had been together for about three years. But we had fallen into a routine. We had sex once a week or so. Maybe every other week. Nothing too crazy. Nothing too outrageous. Wholesome, almost.
She loved me, yes. She was devoted to me, no question. But I wasn’t the same guy to her anymore. I could tell. I wasn’t Christian Grey anymore. Hell, I wasn’t even Christian Slater.
It wasn’t always that way. When we first started dating, we were crazed. This is the girl who I once fucked in an amusement park. There was this kiddie booth that had these animatronic singing bears. We were so into each other, so needed it to happen, that I broke the lock, stuffed us in this tiny shed and fucked her standing up while the bears sang “You Are My Sunshine.” It was the hottest experience ever — and also the opening clip on my “you are going to hell” highlight reel.
That was then. Last week, we did it missionary and fell asleep watching “Golden Girls” reruns. By 9:30 p.m.
I knew the problem: I had lost my edge. I was mysterious in the beginning. All men are mysterious to women in the beginning. You don’t need to look like Brad Pitt stuffed into Henry Cavill, if a girl is into you, she will devote herself to figuring your shit out, even if you know, deep down, your shit is pretty easy to figure out.
You can be a boring accountant who collects comic books and lives with his mom, it doesn’t matter. Find the right girl and to her you are exciting and dangerous and an adventure. Why? Because men and women are so different, we SOOO don’t understand each other, that to THAT girl, you are a unique and beautiful snowflake.
Your quirks. Your tics. Your jokes. If things are firing right, she will be into you because she has no idea what you’re thinking. And that drives women crazy.
Now, eventually – more than likely – she will get you. Chip away. Solve your riddle. Unfortunately, those comics are not a metaphor for an abandoned childhood. No. They are because you like to read picture books about goddamn super heroes.
Hopefully, by the time she figures out you are full of shit – or by the time you stop trying to be awesome – she will love you enough to stick it out. My girl did.
I take the blame. All of it. You try to keep it fresh, keep that wall up. But men want to find someone they don’t have to try hard with. We forget that the “trying hard” is what got us the girl. It’s a Catch 22.
Hailey is smoking hot. Easily the hottest girl I’ve ever been with, breathed in, smelled, tasted, shook hands with, talked to for more than an hour, etc., etc. And I am not a bad-looking guy. I have a decent job. I work out. I wear clothes that fit. But I can’t compete with her perfect blend of spot-on DNA and God-given sexiness.
It’s not JUST that she is out of my league – brains, humor, beauty, class, you name it – it’s that her league is so far away from mine, she needs to catch a flight just to visit.
But, three years in, I find myself doing shit like saying to her – as she is parading around the living room wearing next to nothing – “Can you give me five minutes, babe. I am in the middle of an intense Call of Duty battle.”
If 13-year-old me could time travel to the present and catch me, on a couch, playing a fucking video game instead of banging this goddess, that kid would kick me in the balls and take my Xbox back to 1998. No question.
This had been bothering me a lot. And like lots of men, I didn’t know what to do about it and did not feel comfortable enough talking to Hailey about what was bothering me. I internalized it, discussed it with friends, took polls around the office – normal things grown men do instead of confronting their issues.
I needed to seize back my mojo. I needed to remind her of the man I was in the beginning. I needed to channel my inner bad boy.
***
She was in the kitchen when I came home. “Hey there,” she said, facing the sink, her back to me. She did not turn around.
I put my arm around her waist, I pulled her to me. My cock was already hard. It dug into her ass.
“Go the bedroom. Take off your clothes,” I growled into her ear, slipping my lips down and biting her neck.
She glanced back, eyeing me. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Bedroom,” I said, staring at her with intensity. “Now.”
She smiled for a second, then took it back. “Yes, sir.”
She turned and walked away, and I swiped at her ass, connecting with a loud pop. “Ow,” she said, covering her butt and walking faster.
She was in her panties by the time I joined her. Lying on the bed. The lights were off.
I turned them on.
“I don’t like the lights on,” she said.
“I don’t care,” I said, taking off my tie. “I thought I said nude.”
“I am.”
“All the way.”
“With the lights on?”
I shot her a glance. “Do it.”
She wasn’t sure where I was going but played along, hooking her thumbs under her panties and pulling them down. Like most gorgeous women, she was not confident about her body. And like most gorgeous women, she should have been.
I undressed slowly. I had been hitting the gym hard the last few weeks, and had lost some of the booze weight I put on over the winter. I unbuttoned my shirt, one button at a time, never breaking eye contact. I slipped my pants off. Then my boxers, my cock hard and thick and throbbing
She sat up, moving toward me.
“Lie back down, bitch,” I said, sternly. Her eyebrow shot up, but she complied.
I grabbed my tie, pulling one arm, then the next up to our head board. I fastened her wrists.
“You need to learn to listen,” I said.
She smiled.
“Say yes sir.”
“Really?”
“Say. It.” I said, coldly.
“Yes, sir.”
I leaned down, kissing her, our first real contact. I wanted to melt. The old me would have. I would’ve just hopped on her and gotten where I wanted to go. But, no. Self control. Confidence.
I kissed down her neck, caressing her soft skin with my palms. I slid my hands under her ribs, pulling her body up, her pelvis. I licked down her stomach, her skin full of goosebumps with my soft touches.
I rarely went down on her anymore. She rarely went down on me. That was the first thing to go.
I cupped her ass, pulling her up, slipping between her legs. I glanced up. She was watching me, her wrists straining against my tie, her body wiggling.
“You want me to lick you?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“Please lick me.”
“Lick you where?”
She swallowed. “Please lick my pussy.”
I smiled.
“No,” I said, kissing down her thighs, she grunted in frustration.
I wanted to tease her but not too much. I moved back north, spreading her wide. We had not had sex with the lights on in so long. I liked seeing her like this. So vulnerable. Delicate.
My mouth covered her, my tongue slipping inside. She was warm. Wet. I licked up, teasing her clit with my tongue as I slid a finger inside. She moaned, lifting her hips up and grinding against my face.
I licked harder, sliding two fingers in, curving them up to find her sweet spot. I pressed my shoulders into her thighs, pinning them, opening her up to me.
“Fuck, fuck,” she said, lightly, her body straining against the tie. Her eyes were shut tight, her mouth gripped closed.
I stroked her with my tongue, matching the rhythm of my fingers on her clit. I wanted her to cum. Needed her to. She was mine. I was in control. I wanted this fast and sloppy and out of control.
She grunted, pressing up to me. “God, fuck,” she grunted, cumming hard against me. Her thighs clamped. Her toes curled. Her stomach flexed.
“Good girl,” I said, finally, crawling up. I straddled her chest. My hard cock resting between her tits. I traced her lips with my fingers. She stared hard in my eyes. There was fire. A little danger. It felt old and new.
She reached out with her tongue, and I jerked back my fingers. “Don’t be greedy,” I said.
“Tease,” she said.
I let her take a finger in, tasting herself. She moaned and twirled her tongue and licked me clean.
“Do you want my cock?” I asked, lifting my hips, holding the head just out of reach.
“Please,” she said, looking at me.
“Are you going to choke on it?”
“Fuck,” she said, biting her lip. “Please.”
We had never dabbled in rough trade, but she seemed to like it. The new me was liking it, too.
I leaned forward, easing my cock pass her lips over her soft tongue. She craned her head up, trying to take as much of me as possible.
She was great at sucking cock. The best, actually. I am not sure why we stopped. You get into bad habits. Routines.
She was gentle but firm, eager but patient. I eased more in, pressing forward, her head in my hands. I pulled her back and forth on my cock, sliding deep.
“Fuck, bitch, you love sucking this cock, don’t you?” I ask.
“Yes,” she said muffled.
I pulled out, sliding my balls up. She licked them too. Sucking them. I grabbed the tie, pulling it, freeing her wrists, which were red from the knots.
Her hands found me quickly. On my ass, stroking my shaft, jerking it as she licked my balls.
She pushed me back, swallowing me again, her hands on my hips. She pulled me deep. All the way. Gagging on my cock, her face red.
“Fuck,” I said, finally. The sight too much. I had awoken something in her. I worried I could keep up, but tried to not think about it.
“You want this dick?”
“Yeah,” she said, freeing me.
“Where?”
“In my pussy.”
“You want me to to fuck you?” I asked, sliding down.
I grabbed her hips, hard, jerking her ass up, resting it on my thighs.
“Fuck, yes,” she said.
“You want me to fuck your brains out, cunt?” I said, and as soon as the word slipped out, I worried I had crossed the line. She just smiled and said, “Yes, sir.”
I sank into her, parting her thighs, burying my cock into her pussy. She was so wet. So ready.
She inhaled sharply, her hands on her tits, cupping them, pulling on the nipples.
I pulled her hips further up, almost pile driving down into her. Her back was curved and her pussy was facing up. I pinned her legs down.
It was working. I was deep. She was moaning. Cursing. “Fuck, fuck.”
“You like that?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Tell me to fuck you .”
“Fuck … me.”
“Tell me to fuck your cunt.”
“Fuck … my … tight … cunt.”
My fingers white knuckled her hips. I pounded into her. We kissed. Our bodies reaching out to find each other. I drove deeper. Harder. Faster. I was a sex God. A man of mystery.
I leaned back, on my knees, my cock pounding away. I could tell she was close. Could feel it. Sense it. I reached my hand down, lightly choking her. Tightening the grip around her neck.
“Cum,” I said. “Now.”
Her eyes rolled back. She gave her body to me in a way she never had.
I felt her squeeze. Cum around me. It was too much. I tried to hold on. Tried to ride it out. But I couldn’t.
I dropped her body, pulling my cock out. I jerked the shaft and shot the first rope across her stomach and tits. She moaned. The next two were further, grazing her neck and lips. I drenched her in my lust. Covered her in my desire.
I collapsed. Beside her. We laid there. Dazed. Uncertain.
“Wow,” she said, finally. “What was that?”
“A new beginning.”

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