Me And My Desire

My relationship with Aim has improved in many ways. He talks to me more instead of pushing me away when something is wrong. Although he kind of disappears at night when I fall asleep to lock himself in his office, he works like a beast.

I no longer live on a little cloud; as I usually say, it's more than that. I live with the angels. If we could give a face to happiness, it would be mine, and I would definitely win the prize for the best illustration of fulfillment in itself.

I don't like being alone in this big bed in the middle of the night. I feel like I'm missing something to fill me up, and this feeling worries me a lot, but I can't ask him to stop working. To put his life on hold for the sake of my capricious body, which can no longer stay alone in a bed after nineteen years of life sleeping alone.

I spend much more time with him, even if he has to ditch his friends to come to me. After class, I sneak up to him, and we hug and kiss.

Once back at home, I manage to join him at his place without Zack needing to lecture me about my outings, which have become too frequent for his taste.

These days, he acts as if he was my father. He is no longer my beloved friend but my father. That situation pushes him to spend much more time with his family at his house. We argue too much about those questions: with whom and where am I going?

I didn't think he could be so annoying and me so annoyed by the behavior of anyone other than my dad.

I practiced the art of ignorance with my father, but with Zack, it's impossible and different. I can't ignore him, and he doesn't get discouraged easily either, so if I don't do anything, he will start following me everywhere until the end, even spying on me to find out where I'm going.

So we come to the point of yelling at each other, endless crazy yelling, insulting each other like spoiled toddlers until one of us leaves the room, slamming the door in anger, leaving behind a flood of well-meaning swearing in our wake.

In a way, it makes us seem like we really are from the same family. It's only brothers and sisters who act like that.

But most often, it's the case with Zack; he's the one who goes away most often. He is easier to get angry than I do, so I do everything to piss him off by pushing him to the limit. I don't want him to follow me to Aim, either.

When he returns home at these times, all those in his way certainly taste his deadly venom, which can be his treacherous tongue when he wants it, and his violent actions.

It's not a gift to have an angry Zack in your paw. If he can't vent his anger on the person who is the cause, he will do it on objects, but before he took it out on him, he even banged his head against the walls until he hurt himself.

I taught him the other technique myself when we were younger; it's better to break and smash things that you can replace easily instead of yourself, and he puts it into practice at every opportunity.

Sometimes I doubt a little that it was a good thing. We were punished more than once for pots and valuables that we broke together.

I even got into the habit of accompanying him to do it while I only tear things out of the villa when it's my turn, but hey, it's better if it's that.

So, here's how he finds himself forced to spend more time at home since we only yell at each other when we meet. He's probably locked up in his room working. He's a good drawer and a good architect.

I only hope his sisters will stay away from him because he may fail to care for them if they bother him. He will pour all his meanness on them for the years he put up with them without saying a word. Their mother could not do anything to save their nasty asses. On the contrary, she will also have to face this vicious monster. I know that because I know him better than anyone.

I would like to tell him that I am dating someone; I feel good with someone for the first time in my life; that this person looks at me differently from the others; I would like to talk and share details of my life with him to explain to him how I feel, but telling him that this someone in question is a boy will freak him out.

And he will surely chain me up for my own sake so that I can no longer see him. He will be scared that my father will find out, and he will do everything, so my relationship with my father does not deteriorate more than it already is.

He will do everything to keep his second, and maybe his only, family united and to prevent me from falling into endless conflicts with my father, which could do me more harm than good.

He does not like how my father treats me, but he doesn't want us to be like his family; it's his nightmare.

It's not like I don't want to tell him. It's because he won't be able to handle the shock and, after my mother, he's the second person I'd like to talk to about my new situation.

I would like him to know that he doesn't have to worry about me, that I can look after myself, and that I have found someone who goes out of his way to understand me and give me the first place in his life, but for the moment I can't.

I can only prevent him from discovering it and making quite a scandal. So I'd rather bicker with him day and night, throwing snoring words in each other's faces like he means nothing to me instead of letting him ruin everything.

I know he will understand and forgive me when I am ready to tell him. After all, it's not like I am the only one with a sharp tongue.

I can't even climb on the roof like I used to. Aim's friends have found his piece of paradise too, and like me, they have become addicted to this peaceful corner. So when we're in university and if I want to see Aim or he wants to see me, he texts me to tell me if the way is clear.

They've become much more sticky since they know who he is but not the beautiful mestizo. He has become distant.

And my mom, hm, this one is going through something different with my dad. They're so close to each other that you'd get sick looking at them, but I'm happy for my mom, so I try hard to look at them without scowling or pretending to vomit.

This last one, talking about my father, caught something that neither of us knows what it is, and we don't know how to handle it either for fear that this thing he caught will run away and leave us with the egocentric asshole version that breaks our balls.

With me, it's always the same thing. I don't let my father come near me, and we only address each other in monosyllables; I try my best to bear with him being lovey-dovey with my mom.

Her eyes start to shine again when she is with him. They go out to dinner, not for professional occasions or to keep up appearances but for themselves, and my father accompanies her to her charity evenings. It is a good thing for her.

So it's not me and my problem with my father that will ruin this new joy she's experiencing right now. If they can give themselves a second chance, they should do it.

I will even be very happy for them both. At the same time, I do not intend to let him use my mother for his own sake and then put her aside like dirt.

It looks like she has found the love of her childhood, the man she married, and not this kind of moron who thinks he can do anything by trampling on others.

So he's her husband; I can't interfere with them. She knew him long before I did, but I'm also not going to give him the chance to hurt me again by forgiving him just because he acted differently for two or three days. It will take me much more than that to fall for his trap. Who knows what he must have had in mind this time, hm?

For now, he can play pretty hearts with my mother, and I'll stay out of this little game.

I don't want this version of him to ruin my life either. I don't want to ask questions like, "is Aim the right choice?" Isn't it to annoy my father and my grandparents that I feel good with him? I don't want to end up there because I wish those old blockheads would see me differently. Just because I fed the desire that my father would never change again, I hope this version of him will last forever.

Pff...

Then, I say it clearly: Well, hell with him and his new intentions. He should have remembered long ago that he was a husband and a father, not some disreputable executioner.

I could never have guessed that this boy would be so affectionate and like to overindulge in languid hugs and kisses. I don't think he can spend a minute near me without his mouth digging a passage to my stomach.

He has a wild appetite for kissing me, heating me to drive me crazy, making me soft like butter. He plays with the nerves in my body with such precision and control that I find it hard to comprehend that I really am his first boyfriend.

He has his way of sucking all my energy out of me like a soul sucker, leaving me panting and almost lifeless without ever going any further.

I have the impression that he is playing with me, with my mind, and I can't ask him to go further; I don't dare to tell him I want more than that.

I like to feel his mouth on my neck, my belly, my navel, and my nipples, which harden as soon as they see him smile.

They all demand him every day. Every part of my body wants him as badly as I need him, but he doesn't listen to them. He just does what he wants.

And who enjoys kissing your whole body, especially your hip, groin, and pubis, if he doesn't intend to go all the way? Isn't that crazy?

I didn't know that my body had so many sensitive spots that it could be my source of torture. It's frustrating, and sometimes I think I even see him smirking when I'm shaking under his fingers and his mouth like an idiot.

I don't think about the monstrous size of the thing between his legs anymore.

I've only been thinking about one thing lately. I want him to decide to take it to the next level and put it in me as deeply as he can.

I researched how to make love to someone of the same sex as yourself, sex between men, how to give pleasure to my partner, and many other more daring questions that Google is starting to ask about my sex life.

I didn't know if kissing someone could put me in all my states. He even managed to make me cum like this: hm, ah...

And when I'm at home away from him, I find myself in my room thinking about him and masturbating like crazy for just a few seconds. All I do is touch myself in all possible positions, and my body doesn't want to obey anymore. I'm like a kind of hormonal bomb about to explode.

He had to put out the fire he lit before I went crazy. He has to fuck me to free me from this weight that weighs me down.

And this sexual frustration is a big help to me too. It gives me the energy to get rid of Zack without worrying about his feelings. I tell him everything that goes through my head.

I learned that someone frustrated by the need for sex is not easy to coax, and I learned and understood it by myself. This boy makes me languish and leaves me without extinguishing what he has lit in my belly.

If there's anyone who activated my slumbering libido, it's this boy who drives me wild with his feverish caresses, and I love that I like feeling dizzy and reeling under his magic hands. Whenever he touches me, I have the impression that I have abused alcohol or any devastating drugs.

Now all he has to do is press me against his body, and I start shaking like a leaf.

I was pinned down in his arms in that famous spooning position. He made sure my ass was exactly pinned on his dick before it was uncomfortable, and I was afraid to move for fear that he would enter my little garden by mistake.

It was a stupid thought and fear since I was always dressed in pajamas, and he, too, was wearing his pajama pants. Now it's me rubbing up against him, reckless of what might or might not happen.

He won't sleep until we're in this prominent position, and even when he returns to bed after his night's work, he changes my position so that my ass is placed precisely on his penis.

Whenever he does it, I start growling and grinning at him like a cat in heat. He hugs me tightly until I've finished cumming.

I like the feeling of his huge dick pressed against my ass. It's awesome.

I'm not afraid to let him know that I jerked off just by doing things as simple as kissing him, rubbing my ass against his big thing, when he sucks my nipples and such...

Besides, it will be complicated to hide something like that, but what surprises me is that I've never been ashamed of it. It won't be very comfortable with a girl, and I can't imagine myself in such a situation. I would die of shame if this happened to me with a girl.

I'll tell you that I like the fact that he's haptophobic. I'm the only one he can go to such extremes without fear; I'm the only one he can hug; and who can do it back.

However, it is rare for a haptophobe to let anyone touch them. I think he developed it because of some situation that made him distrustful of others. But he didn't tell me about that.

If he could do it with someone else, I don't think I could put up with it. I may have inherited my father's selfishness. Let's say like father, like son, then.

I know all that is bad, but I also know that I like the fact that I'm the only one. I can't help but feel good that he's just mine and no one else will know what it feels like to snuggle up in his warm embrace.

Even if the pretty mestizo can hold his hand and put his arm around his shoulders, that doesn't go any further, does it?

Sometimes when it itches me, and I want to touch myself to have a more violent, rougher enjoyment, he prevents me from doing so. He even forbids me to touch myself when I'm with him and at home, but I don't know why it doesn't happen, and I can't keep my hands off my penis when he's not around.

My hands and dick have had a particular attraction for each other lately. A specific connection has formed between them, driving me adrift. These two will become unbearable, sore, and fade if I continue like this, and I am not ready to let them go.

I understand that he won't do anything to me if I'm not the one asking, or at least that's his way of making me even more addicted to him than I already am.

I like being with him, feeling loved, desired, and pampered.

I like how he looks at me like I'm hanging way too high for him like I'm some priceless piece of art that suitors are forbidden to approach and touch under any pretext.

If driving me crazy with desire is a game for him, I will have to play the same game as him. He's not the only one who can drive me crazy by making me dream and drool over something I want, but he refuses to give it to me.

I may not be good at making him lose his mind just by touching him, but I have other effective ways to get him to let his guard down.