--"Childcatcher", LushI've only had to place this disclaimer once before, but, yeah, this post is definitely intended for mature audiences...
I haven't always been the nicest person. Especially to my friends I haven't exactly always been the picture of someone who would be willing to sacrifice or put myself out in any respect. Indeed, some of the clearest memories my friends and former friends possess of me are times involving when I purposefully chose to disappoint them rather than compromise what I wanted. It's part of my nature to want what I want and to give less consideration to what others want. I'm not saying proud of that characteristic; I just know it's been a lifelong struggle to not only say the right things to a person, but to also do right by the same person.
In the same respect I have never been able to resist turning any relationship to my favor in some regard. Some of it is unconsciously, some of it is also intentional, but I don't believe I've entered into a relationship where I didn't feel like I hold the upper hand in some manner. From looking for women less intelligent, less traveled, less experienced, and sometimes less ambitious than me--I go into most relationships seeking at least a few area that I know I'm clearly ahead in points in. Not only that, but I also go into most relationships trying to minimize areas where I can be bested. It's very petty of me. It's also very childish. Yet I know how I get when I'm around someone I clearly consider my better. I become jealous, often vindictive. I can't stand to feel overmatched. More likely, I can't stand to feel like my opinions on any subject is being drowned out.
I like to be in control somewhat, meaning I don't need to be the boss in any given situation. I just need to know I have veto power if need be. I need to know that, sure, I can let you have your way most of the time, but when it comes down to the big stuff, the important stuff, there's only going to be one voice providing the direction and that voice is going to be mine.
A major motif along those lines is my seemingly unwavering attraction to not only date women younger than myself, but much younger than myself. I mean--I've talked to Brandy many, many times about the subject. She feels like it's just another way I exert control over the situation. Like it or not, I seem to believe that younger women or girls are that much easier to sway. She seems to feel that I feel that when push comes to shove I can push my agenda ahead of theirs. She asserts that I like to use my experience and my supposed wisdom in all matters as the trump card in any argument, much like a parent asserting his authority by telling his child of a decision before any discourse has taken place, all the while saying that the child will understand why it has to be so when they get older. From the stories I've related to her, she says I tend to manage a situation in my relationships than actually reaching any sort of compromise.
In a way, I suppose that's true. I can recall plenty of instances where I felt like I was on the losing end of an argument, only to turn it around by whipping it out some anecdote how I had gone through a similar argument before. From there I would either demonstrate how doing things my way had ended triumphantly or how not doing things my way had ended disastrously. Trust me, I would say, I've seen it all play it out before. And that would be that. Most of the time, since they were so young, so inexperienced compared to me, they couldn't really defend their position in the same manner. Most of the time they would defer to my judgment, which would be just the way I liked things.
It would be the same for sex or how fast things progressed in that department. It was almost always in my power to either rush or slacken the pace depending on how fast I thought matters in the physical relations department were moving. With some, like Tara, I just couldn't get things to move ever fast enough. I was forever in negotiations to run away to some motel with her while I was in Maryland or while she was visiting me here in California. With others, like DeAnn, there came a point where I became the typical househusband, where I had to be basically coaxed into having sex. I don't know--maybe it's in my nature simply to be a contrarian in order to prove that I have some semblance of power. I can't remember one relationship where my physical needs were ever in complete sync with somebody's I was dating over the long haul. Eventually, like Brandy says, I had to assert my jurisdiction by completely opposing my girlfriend at the time just to disagree with her.
And then there was the unique case with Breanne.
When I was growing up, I hadn't even heard of phone sex. There was only one type of sex I knew about and that was good old-fashioned fornication and whatever it was called when married people had sex. I wasn't very experimental when it came to talking about my own desires. I suppose I was still very shy when it came to a lot of different areas when it came to dating and relationships. As with a lot of things, Breanne and I kind of opened each other up when it came to giving voice to some of our wants and fantasies. Before her I never thought it was okay to talk about all the stuff that goes on behind closed doors, er, with the doors wide open.
In fact, it was Breanne who broached the topic first. She's always been more right-to-the-point when it came to sex or when it came to explicitly spelling out what was going on in that wicked mind of hers. That's not to say I didn't think and want the same things from her, but when it came to getting the conversation going it almost always started from her lips and continued to mine.
I don't know--I must've been almost nineteen at the time and to this day it still kind of makes me blush thinking about the conversation.
"Oh, sugar, you can tell me if you did. It'll be alright. I'm not going to laugh. I just want to know what it was like--if it was a hoot-and-a-half or only 'eh,'" my fourteen-year-old friend announced. There wasn't a hint of condescension in her voice, only the sense of wistfulness and forlorness that was the hallmark of a lot of our conversations in those days. She had a long list of experiences she couldn't wait to feel for herself. Chief among these was what it was like to, as she put it once, know the mysteries of men and women.
"Truth be told, I've never done that. I've never had an opportunity to do that," I replied. "I don't even know if would like it even if did have the chance."
"I don't know--it doesn't seem like my cup of tea, Breanne."
"Prude," she laughed.
I had given up arguing with her over this point. When you've never had sex before, there's a lot about it that you think is unsettling. I had a lot of reservations about what I would and would not like about it. One of those reservations was reserved for type of illicit conversation about it over unsecured lines while there was still daylight outside.
"Because you're just such an expert on the topic."
"Hey, just because you've ridden a bull before doesn't mean you wouldn't like it, you know? A lot of life is trial and error, and I aim to try just about anything and everything I can get my hands on by the time I'm laid in my grave."
"Come on, Mr. Patrick, let's be adventurous."
"I don't think your idea of adventure exactly gibes with mine. I don't think I can bring myself to go where you want to lead me this time."
"Please, thank you," she said in just that way she says that particular phrase. She sounded exactly the way she had sounded when I told her I didn't like ghosts. In that argument she had remained utterly unconvinced that anyone, especially me, could be so unreceptive to ghost stories and other scary tales. She had spent the rest of the afternoon extolling their virtues, explaining to me how everyone needed a good scare now and then. And now she was building up the same determinedness in her tone of voice. I knew the clear symptoms of an attack of Breanne's stubbornness preparing to manifest itself.
It wasn't as if the thought of having sex with Breanne had never crossed my mind. It had crossed my mind a lot over the previous months. But I had remained chaste for the most part in my intentions for her. From my vantage, there was a lot of time for fooling around. What I was mostly interested in was building a sure foundation for something more substantial to develop later on. I didn't want to wreck it by acting on my developing feelings for her too soon. The party line I towed in those days was there could be romance, but no talk of lust; there could be admiration, but no wanton discussions of craving. I thought of myself in a precarious place that I had invested my time in getting to. I didn't want to ruin it by suddenly succumbing to impatience or my usual impulsive inclinations.
I had a good thing going with her and I wanted to enjoy that aspect of what we had before even beginning to think of wanting a bit more.
"Forget it. It's a stupid idea, Breanne. I'm telling you, no."
I might as well have been drawing a line in the sand for her.
"That's just great. You can tell me no till you're blue in the face, but that don't make it so. Hell's bells, I'm telling you right now that this ain't going to be the way things work between us... not if you intend for little 'ole me to be a part of this. You can disagree with me, that's fine. I welcome that. What you can't do, what you ain't going to ever do, is tell me no and expect me to be done with it, darling."
"It's just phone sex. It's stupid. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm only trying to tell you that I know what I am and am not comfortable with. I'm not comfortable with this, Miss Breanne."
"That's fine. Nobody's going to fish you out of any lake you're happy swimming in, you know?"
"I'm glad we can agree with each other on that point."
By the sound of her breathing I could tell she was disappointed. She was a young lady who almost always got her way from everyone. If it wasn't her charm or her sense of determination that would convince you, it would almost always come down to the sound of her compassion ringing through her words that did you in. She never sounded like she was pushing this hard for herself; it was always to do you a favor. She always sounded like she held your best interests in her mind.
It's rather difficult to marshall any sort of resistance against odds like that. Eventually, most people's defenses fell and they felt themselves being convinced of something only moments earlier they had been fighting tooth and nail against. Even myself, who went into most conversations with her with the intention of impressing her with somewhere I had been or something I had done, often walked away scratching my head at the instance upon instance of her thoroughly making an impression on me. Yes, I had the age and experience over, which allowed me to hold a healthy amount of sway over her, but she has always possessed a self-awareness about her, a preternatural wisdom, that makes it impossible to ever discount anything she has to offer in way of imparting her thoughts on you.
"All I'm saying is that if you're scared, you don't need to be. If you're shy about saying the wrong thing to me, don't fret about it. Anything you could say about me probably is something that I've been thinking along the same lines about all this time," she said sweetly. "It's one thing if you truly don't think it's appropriate--that I can understand. But if it's me you're worried about creeping out, well, you can stop worrying."
I don't know who's ever had the real control in our relationship/friendship. Sometimes I feel like I have it because there are times where it's felt like I've won more battles than she had. Sometimes it feels like I've won all the important battles, the ones that have mattered. But other times, when I really look back at the conversations we've held and the times the very future of what we had hung in the balance, I see it's always been her pushing for something more for us than was ever said on the surface. I wouldn't go so far as to say she manipulated me, but she definitely has more experience playing the psychology card on me than I've had in playing it on her. I'm a blunt hammer when it comes to deciding what happens between us compared to the razor-sharp scalpel she wields.
"I know that. That's part of it."
"Not all of it."
"No, part of me, just thinks it'll be stupid."
"Stupid can be good too."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean--I don't expect either of us to be any sort of Casanova or Shakespeare. We'll probably laugh a lot the first time, but that's a good thing. Like my daddy says, you can't preach your way through life. Not everything is a solemn occasion and this certainly wouldn't qualify, you know? This would be two friends trying something out for fun. This would be you and me."
"I see your point, Miss Breanne. I see your point."
When Lucy knows she has won an argument, you can almost hear the smile in her voice. The sensation of triumph pervades every word out of her mouth. But even when she's won, she never sounds boastful. Like aforementioned--it seems like her argument works out for both of you. That's one of the best qualities about her.
Before I had a chance to argue she launched into what would be our first foray into "telecommunication fornication," as it came to be called.
"We're in the park. You're just off from Crown and I've just come from school. I'm wearing a simple white top with thin straps tied with bows at the shoulders. A few inches of midriff are bare, below which I'm wearing some snug fitting shorts in a bright orange flower pattern..." she started out.
"We're really going to do this?" I said, trying to stifle a laugh.
"We're really going to do this. Now shush up.
"With my long legs and strong shoulders, you think my body has the scaled-down but perfect proportions of a much older girl."
I responded by saying, "I had been noticing you for awhile. All those times when we crossed each other on the street or at the mall, I made a mental note to myself that you seemed a pretty, young thing. You would have been exactly the kind of girl I would have never had a shot at in high school. In fact, if you had graduated with me last year, you would have never noticed me at all. As it is now, I'm humbly dressed in jean shorts and a t-shirt. I had actually only meant to cut through the park on my walk, but when I saw you I had to stop. I sit next to you on the park bench to say hello."
"We get to talking. We're having what I reckon is a casual conversation until I notice your hands momentarily brush against my arm or my thigh. At first, I think you're just being friendly. Then I begin to notice your hands linger on me a few seconds too long. My first instinct is to move away, establish a perimeter around myself. Yet with every touch of your skin against me it starts to feel nicer and nicer. Fairly soon, you've neglected even the pretense of moving your hands away. Your hands come to rest on my shoulders. I feel them atop the bows on my top, threatening to leave them untied and me exposed."
"Can I just say something?"
"You're really good at this, Breanne. I was afraid we wouldn't take it seriously, but...."
"Shush, I know. Your turn."
"As I'm struggling to keep my hands to myself, I notice the position of the park bench in relation to the rest of the park. Feeling too exposed, I suggest we go for a walk deeper into the park, to a more secluded area, under the pretense of me wanting to continue my walk. Without even thinking, I grab your hand and we go walking together down the trail to where only the locals and not just casual visitors know about. We continue walking, as we see less and less people walking the other direction. I start to comment how pretty you are. I comment on how chestnut brown your hair is, how oceanic blue-green your eyes are, and how cute your dimples are."
"And I'm loving it. I'm like a lazy dog in sunshine. I grow emboldened. I spy a nice clearing beneath some trees and suggest we stop for awhile underneath it. I tug your arm behind me, not giving you a chance to tell me no. There we sit on an exposed tree trunk, while it's my turn to start exploring your body. I playfully run my hand through your dark, black hair, then over your tanned arms and hands. I don't know what else to do without giving myself away so I scoot up next to you till I'm practically in your lap."
"By that time I'm dying of want for you. Again, I place my hands on the delicate bows which are barely holding your top on you. I steal a glance at the curve in your top, trying to imagine what your breasts would look like were it not for their covering. I toy with just brazenly untying the bows to see for myself. But a moment of panic takes over me and I have to ask," I say, taking a pause.
"Yes?" she replies.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. And yes again, Patrick."
"Slowly, purposefully, I take hold of one loose end of the bow on your left shoulder. As I gently tug it, the strap lifts away from your shoulder, and you bite down on your lower lip. Finally, all play drawn out of the strap, the end in my hand begins to slip through the bow knot. In slow motion, one half of the bow shrinks until it disappears. Then with a final tug, it pops through
the knot, and the two ends of the strap hang loosely across each other. Releasing the end in my hand, I flick the loose straps and they fall away from your shoulder, one to the front and one to the back. You audibly exhale."
"I feel the breeze on my bare skin, while my left breast almost comes into view. I make a move to increase the pace of the proceedings. Taking your other hand, I guide it to the other bow. I let human nature do the rest. You tug on the other strap just as carefully as you did the first. For the first time that day you see me exposed from the neck down as my top slips downward. I wait for you to gaze upon on my, to be nice, gentle curves, afraid that there is a hint of disappointment in your expression."
"And I tell you that there is nothing more beautiful to me at that moment than you are, Breanne. I make a motion to cup you in my hands, to feel your nipples between my fingers, but you stop me. You tell me that you want to feel my mouth on them. You get up briefly, remove the top from your waist, and sit back down--this time facing me. I bend over to place my head on your chest. I start to softly explore your breasts with my mouth and tongue."
"I feel your lips on my sensitive area. I feel every tug, nip, and pull as you dive into making sure that both mounds are being paid attention to. That's when I start to notice your hands inching my shorts down intermittently. I quickly pull them back up and move your head away.
"'No fair,' I say. 'I'm not rowing this canoe alone here."
"I smile and tell you to take my shirt off. You comply hastily, making sure to run your hands up and down my back with deviousness. I tell you to really rake your nails up my back. You respond by pressing your chest against mine and taking a good rip with both hands up the length of my back, or, at least, as far as your hands can reach. And that's when we finally kiss for the first time."
"Hell's bells, I forgot about that part," she laughs like a hurricane. "Very important, that part."
I laughed right along with her because I had recognized that in our haste we had neglected that simple act that both of us had been desiring for a few months then. Sure, I nixed all sexual talk up until that conversation, but I had been very succinct in my desire to kiss her for awhile by then. That had never been a secret between us.
"Our lips meet like two waves crashing into each other," she elaborates. "It's like two flames becoming entwined with one another, not knowing where one pair ends and the other begins. And it feels like music would feel like if music could be felt. We proceed to play a whole symphony by the time we're done kissing each other. And if it were up to me I would have recommended another piece to continue the evening, but you remind me that we're pressed for time."
"I ask you to undress the rest of me and you answer yes, but only if I do the same," I said. "There we continue to disrobe until we're both standing nude as jaybirds next to one another. We each look the other over hungrily before we both continue the afternoon's activities. I tell you to stand next to the tree. Once there, I tell you to bend over and hug. Sensing my meaning, you do as I ask. As you get into position I stand behind you and slowly, but purposefully, lick two of my fingers and slide them into you from behind. As I feel you getting wet from the inside out..."
"I reach behind me to prepare you as well, sugar. I close my grip around your dick. It feels soft at first, but the more I coax it in my hand, the more it stiffens like a piece of wire being straightened out. I wait until I feel it completely hard in my hand and tell you to enter me now. You ask me again what I want. And that's when I holler at you to do as I ask."
"I push in. I push in and it's like the rest of the day ceases to matter. I feel your body envelop me like a warm, wet vice. I feel myself get lost in you over and over again. It seems like the more I shove myself into you the more I sink in."
"I alternately relax and tighten around you, all the while brushing back against you for some much needed tension. The minutes slip into one another ceaselessly as you fuck me mercilessly until I can see, more than feel, us getting closer to climax. I tell you to hold on, darling. I tell you to hold onto me, darling, I'm almost there. Then we begin to explode into what feels like a million pieces. Then those pieces explode into smaller pieces, and all we're left with is the scent of sex on our bodies and the sound of two people out of breath and very much in love with one another."
What followed next was me listening to her breathe over the phone rather heavily and her probably listening the very same thing over on her end. I was completely floored. I had no inkling going into the experience that I would enjoy it all that much. Similar to my experiences with drinking, I think I had been dissuaded from trying phone sex out by my idea of what it would be like. However, once face to face with the real thing, I discovered that the genuine article was far more exquisite than my preconception of it ever was. I found myself out of breath and not the least bit wondering when the next time we could try it would be.
"So what'd you think, Mr. Patrick?" I finally heard her ask, once she had caught up to her breath.
"I think I was wrong in every way, Miss Breanne... about everything," I said.
She laughed and we continued our conversation with some newfound knowledge about ourselves and about where our minds liked to wonder when let loose in the more primitive parts of minds.
And for the first time I stopped seeing her as somebody to control and try to have my way with, and more of as a formidable foe when it came to the direction our friendship/relationship was going to take. To this day Lucy remains the only person I neither feel jealous of for her vast accomplishments (at least most of the time) nor contemptuous of because I consider her beneath me in some respect. Ours is a congress of equals, as far as two people can be the equals of one another. I mean--she took me from a position of being firmly opposed to the idea of ever expressing myself in such a carnal way to another human being to getting pretty graphic about how much I wanted to pursue her biblically. Couple that was in the span of one conversation and I knew that my days of having reign over what she did or thought would be tenuous and fleeting at best.
I guess that's the unique aspect about our dynamics. We're the first people to treat each other as partners rather than as master and servant. Instead of falling back to some built-up dynamic of me being in charge, like I have been accused of in future relationships, I had no experience in that situation to realize that power was even there to be seized. Basically, because I've always treated Breanne as my best friend first and foremost, I shall ever treat her as such rather than a relationship to shape and mold as I see fit.
I mean--it isn't the most conventional place to see the equality of two human spirits. Yet it was precisely the way we took control over the scenario and ceded it just as easily that illustrated to me just how much I trust her judgment. If I had held to what would be later form, that scenario would be much more heavily driven by me. It also illustrated to me that I would never have to control her because, similarly, she had no intention of ever trying to control me.
Labels: Breanne, Control, Lush, Maturity, phone sex