Something happened this weekend. Something happened and it was big and very beautiful. Jock and I “clicked”. We literally clicked into place. We went from dating to being in a relationship and it happened right there in front of us.

Well it did for me, anyway.

We already know that we have the chemistry. Our sex is damn great and although we have had our hiccups, we seem to have gotten ourselves into something that is most definitely working for us. It’s certainly working for me anyway.

We have the sparkle. The sex is great, the conversation is great, most of our dates have been out of this world amazing and everything is cool.

Now everything has gotten beautiful. Very, very beautiful.

It started with the paint.

He has moved into a trailer. For the Brits, this is a caravan. This makes him trailer trash and when you take a look at the people that live in the house with the trailer, and the state of their yard and the way that they talk – they are most definitely, one hundred percent trailer trash.

I always thought I would hate a guy that lived like that. When the Big Love suggested us moving into a trailer I told him to go and take a running jump. This guy is 100% trailer trash – everything I should be running from but in fact I’m running towards it.

Anyway, he wants to paint his trailer because it looks like shit. Which to be fair, it did. It doesn’t anymore. He let me pick the color scheme. He had a charcoal grey/black carpet and a red/maroon/burgundy colored couch. At first the walls were purple. They are now light slate grey. The contrast between the carpet, the walls and the couch is beautiful. I have made this shitty little space beautiful. Woop – go me. He thinks it looks lush too and has basically put me in charge of the whole project. This works for me of course – I LOVE letting my inner creative side go crazy and he is basically giving me a blank canvas.

We got the paint, grabbed some beers and a couple burgers, made sure we had enough cigarettes to last us the weekend and we went back to his trailer. Yes that’s right – I started bloody smoking again.

We watched Dirty Dancing, snuggled up on his couch in blankets. It was adorable. It was a proper couple night. Bed time came and we had great sex. We always do.

The second night; that’s right, we’ve gone into two-night territory; we got some beers, cranked the music up and started painting. It was awesome – chatting and singing along and painting. It was like we were a proper couple. We had started to click.

After a few hours, we end up lying on opposite couches, chatting and drinking. We talked about Big Love, and his ex, past loves and failed love attempts. It was nice. We were clicking – we had started really started opening up to each other. I told him about my young suicide attempt and my self-harming, he told me about his past drug problems and lifestyle choices.

When we went to bed, pure magic happened. The sex we had was intense and passionate. There was biting and scratching and shuddering moans on both sides, I rode him, I let him have the “reverse-cowgirl” that he keeps asking for, he screwed me; it was all over the place. He kept switching things up, changing from his cock to his mouth, back to his cock and then to his fingers. I couldn’t keep up. My head was all over the place. All I could think was how much I really wanted to tell him that I loved him. It was bite-your-lip stuff. I couldn’t handle it. I was shaking, shuddering, moaning, writhing…. God, it was intense! I’m pretty sure I came harder than I ever had before in my life, and when he went down on me….. I “multipled”!!! YES!!!!!

When he came, he “came like thunder” – those were his words! He groaned out loud. In fact, he groaned a lot this weekend. I’ve never heard him vocally express himself during sex and fuck, did it turn me on! He shuddered into me and I could feel his cock throbbing. His breath exploded into my neck, that guttural groan escaped from his throat…. It was pure ecstasy for me.

We had clicked. He said as much in the car when he dropped me home. Before we had great sex but that sex was still “new person” sex. It was still a bit awkward. We were still learning about each other’s bodies and figuring out what works for each other. This weekend we had “I know you” sex. We understood what drove each other crazy and we put all that we had learned together in one sweaty, passionate, loud, animalistic finale that proved to us both how we really felt about each other.

It blew my mind, guys and girls. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the sex that we had, about how much I really feel for him. I miss him already. He texts me and I smile. I miss the way that he smells. I miss the way that he always touches me in some way. If we’re on the couch, his hand will be on my leg or we’ll be holding hands. When we are in the car, my arm is wrapped around his and we hold hands. When we are out and about in public, he’ll hold my hand and kiss me and occasionally, we grab each other’s asses. I miss his touch. I miss the way he rubs my back. I miss the way he kisses. His kisses drive me crazy. I can’t keep my hands off him and I can’t keep him out of my mind.

It’s fucking me up – I’m so confused. If I really love him, why didn’t I just say it? Am I waiting for him to say it? Should he say it first? Should I wait? Should I blurt it out? How much longer is this going to go on for? He has basically told me how he feels, why hasn’t he just come out and said it yet? It’s driving me fucking crazy.

I can’t think straight. I’m trying to catch up on some freelance writing stuff before I head to bed but every time I do, I get carried away with the thoughts of what we did in the bedroom this weekend. I’m writing about sex in my freelance writing and that really doesn’t help matters! I can’t stop thinking about him.

He’s not perfect and he doesn’t have the perfect figure or the perfect teeth or the perfect penis, but for me, he’s perfect. I see no flaws. There’s nothing I can’t stand. His beard makes him look gruff and his silver hair makes him look distinguished. His little belly makes the perfect pillow for my head and the perfect place for me to rest my arm as I sleep in his nook. I love the way he smells and feels. I love the way he feels inside me and although I have mentioned the size of his manhood before, he’s the most amazing lover I’ve ever had. He knows what he is doing. He knows exactly where my clitoris is. He knows exactly how and what to watch for so that he can learn. He knows when I’m going to climax and when to pick up speed or slow down. He’s the perfect lover for me.

I want to tell him all of these things and I don’t even know where to start. I’ve played things so cool with him, desperate not to fall in love and get my heart broken and all I’ve done is fall in love and now I don’t know how to let him know. And I feel he should know. I feel he deserves to know how much he has swept me off my feet and made me glow with happiness. He deserves to know how amazing a person, friend, lover and partner I really think he is. He deserves to know that I love him.

So that’s it. We clicked.


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