Once Upon a Time...

Something about my tea boy leaves me without words. Like I can't tell you the story just quite yet because I don't know how it ends. Which is ironic, since he and I are all words. He tells me he fell in love with my words first (since our first meeting was a prolonged back and forth through email and then IM) and then with the physical me when we met face to face. But I've forbid him to use the L word, for now, so he hedges around it and makes up all kinds of ways to tell me he loves me just the same. Puppy love. Infatuation. Rutabaga.

And, since we aren't in love, we certainly aren't a couple just yet. Nor are we partners, or boyfriend and girlfriend, or even dating. I've committed to "getting to know each other." We're getting to know each other. But that's about as far as I can go.

And, by way of getting to know each other, we decided we need a certain amount of face time to offset the virtual time. So we spent last weekend together. And you know what? It was really nice. Not crazy bacchanalian fuck fest nice. Just really rutabaga nice. I woke up Saturday morning all the way scrunched over on my side of the bed, almost falling off, with him all hot and sleepy and snugged up against me. I had to butt shove him back to his side so I wouldn't fall out of bed, but not before I made note that he's the first person in a long while to reach for me even in his sleep.

It turns out he fucks not unlike me: sort of bitey and thrashy and switchy. He knows what to do with me when I go all limp and subby, and yet without so much as a word we can switch places; me pinning him beneath my weight, grabbing his balls and biting into the thin skin above his collar bone while his eyes roll back in his head and a beatific smile spreads across his face. He instinctively grabs my wrist when I rest my hand in his, and yet he follows my lead when I grip his hair and guide his mouth to my breast. And when all is said and done we fall asleep in a puddle of sweat and a knot of limbs where it is hard to say exactly where one of us begins and the other ends.

And speaking of knots, he's gonna be one fine roper one of these days. I don't know if he is just so darn eager to please me or if he truly is a natural (I think maybe a little of both) but he picked up that 30 feet of nylon and started tying and wrapping and looping like he knew instinctively what to do with it. He was like a brainy kid with a Rubik Cube, turning and tightening and twisting until the thing magically fell into place. As we watched a video (Alfred Hitchcock's Rope, appropriately enough) he absent mindedly fiddled with the lengths of cord until I looked down and found my feet bound together in these funky stirrup kinda things. Then he stood up, smiled at me devilishly and went out on the porch to have a cigarette leaving me to hop about the house dragging 28 feet of rope behind me or figure out how to get the things undone myself so I could go out and join him for a smoke.

And if that wasn't enough I knew we would get along just fine when he emailed me this after our first night together:

"The little ache when I walk is a pleasant reminder in a twisted way, though. As were a couple of bruises I found when showering."

The funny thing was that I had found bruises in exactly the same spots on myself that very morning and wrote him an almost identical email.

So, as I said, I have no idea how the story will end. But with any luck there will be lots of chapters and a happy ending one way or another.