Breaking up is always hard to do.
The dissolution of my last relationship was no doubt one of the most difficult things I've had to do in a minute. But it had to be done.
Love cannot thrive in a space where respect doesn't live.
And no matter how many times the man I loved claimed to love me, the clear and resounding truth was that he had no idea how to truly value me.
I was meek, I was weak, and the harder I held onto him, the more I lost the woman I had worked so hard to become. At the end of the day, it was either him or me, and I finally learned how to be strong enough to make and maintain my decision to stay away from a man that's purpose in my life had been fulfilled.
Nevertheless, the clarity and the peace that I felt soon after allowed me to make no apologies for it. Not a single regret. My sense of self-worth was back in full effect, my self-love was well underway, but my confidence was at an all-time low following the cycle of toxicity and emotional abuse that was my on-again off-again relationship with my ex.
I honestly didn't know what I needed after something like that, aside from alone time, my breakup playlists on repeat, and plenty of journaling and self-reflection. I was putting in the work to return to me, but I still felt somehow out of reach. I had no idea that not having any expectations about what I needed would lead me into the arms of a much younger man.
What's more, I had no idea that he'd come equipped with the exact remedy I needed to reconnect with the self I had lost.
It all started back in July. Our shared birthday weekend was the beginning of a lot of things, namely the spark of our connection. I felt it the moment our eyes met the night before, on the eve of his birthday festivities that a friend, his sister had invited me to. The party before the party. My birthday fell on Sunday and his that Saturday. I had absolutely no birthday plans for my 26th birthday but he had them all for his 20th. How could I say no?
Maybe it was my quarter-life crisis revving up to run wild, but I remembered him as the kid brother of one of my friends that I first met on New Year's Eve two years prior. Back then, he was 18 and I was in the limbo of a relationship so whatever attraction I felt came to an abrupt and speedy halt. But now, a blink away from 20, instead of a red light saying “stop," I only saw “proceed with caution." While we were on the river (celebrating his birthday), I admired his caramel skin and taut body while he walked around shirtless with an air that commanded. And a smile that absolutely dazzled.
At the end of the night, we made our way to a lounge and stole glances at each other across the table. He continued to be very intentional about the way he took me in like I was the glass of water his thirst called for. It was the same one I held in mine. The desire I felt there was too hot to look away. But logic would override my lust that night as we parted ways and he wished me a happy birthday and thanked me for joining him at his. He was too damn young. Little did I know, it was a prelude to our relationship.
I was willing to allow the idea of him to remain a fantasy of what could never be until a couple of days later, I found myself on his couch with his lips at my neck, alternating between kisses and soft bites. I learned what it was that day. I wanted him, but it was more than that. He made me feel desired, like I was the sexiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. It felt specific and genuine in a way that I didn't know my confidence or my ego needed, but it did.
He kissed me with hunger, and although I wanted to back away from him for the age difference alone, it was something I hadn't experienced in so long. I valued myself and felt valued by other men since my ex for my mind, for my creative, maybe even for my heart – but he added another layer to the wholeness that escaped me. I wanted him because he made me feel wanted.
High as f*ck, hot as f*ck, horny as f*ck – hours later, we made our way upstairs to his bedroom to surrender to the tease we had created for one another.
It was such a turn-on to experience the effect I had on him. I felt so powerful as I took him into my mouth, sucking him into oblivion. He gripped the sheets so hard, arching up into me. He returned the favor, slipping on protection and then entering me. We sighed into each other's mouths, a deep exhale, expletives on our tongues. Sex with him was like letting go. Each thrust was the culmination of gaining something new: relaxation, surrender, rebirth, renewal. It was an awakening and in the wake of being dormant for so long, I was reminded of what it was like to feel alive.
When he orgasmed, it was like music to my ears – the most intoxicating sound. We made out afterwards for what felt like hours before he had enough and decided he wanted more. I giggled to myself. It's quickly become one of my favorite things about him – aside from how womanly he makes me feel – even in moments where he comes too quick, it's made up to me by a second, third, and sometimes fourth round of lovemaking. He's as insatiable as I am.
In the early hours of the morning, he tightens his embrace around me and brings me in closer to him to kiss my back, my neck. He slips his hands between my thighs in effort to initiate wetness where there's warmth. I writhe against him and he breathes against me in anticipation. It isn't as urgent and it doesn't demand. It's a slow dance that builds purposefully into a crescendo of completion. Sometimes we finish together, profuse sweating and heavy breathing. Other times, I finish alone and he taps out involuntarily. We touch ourselves while holding onto our gazes and I come again as I watch him make himself come for me.
The relationship between the two of us has quickly turned into a relationship of convenience with the only strings attached being a couple of guidelines we laid out: open communication and having respect for the other's health. I think he's drawn to me because of the enigma and I'm drawn to him for the thrill. We have a fun, easy-going vibe, have conversations about everything underneath the sun, and overall just have an understanding:
We know what it is, what it isn't, and what it will never be.
One thing's for certain, he has reminded me of who I am during a time where I needed an extra voice and I will always appreciate him for that and for helping me to undo some of the damage I incurred from the man before him. There is an absence of expectation – other than the ones that derive from our mutual pleasure.
We just are.
And whenever I feel a familiar ache between my thighs, I send him a quick text that reads: “Tonight?"
From there, he hits me back with says, “Come thru."
Happily, I oblige.
Have you ever been with a younger guy? What did it do for you? Let me know in the comments down below.
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