I’ve written a few times that my weight is higher than I want – and not in a vague “oh gee I should weigh less” way, but a “jeez NONE of my suits fit” way. A practical and financial dilemma as my entire wardrobe was literally downsized when my weight went down a couple of years ago and remained stable.
I started seeing a trainer in late November and he made it hard for me to function courtesy of his short but all-body workouts on a torture device called the TRX. Sometimes I can barely lift my arms to wash my hair afterwards.
I started to also go to the gym on my own to get on the treadmill. Once before Christmas, and a couple of times afterwards. My Mom got me a basic Fitbit for Christmas which has been great to know how much of a slug I usually am. I’m starting a new project at work and am in a slight lull this week and decided to get my ass into the gym. I have plans every day but there is no reason I can’t go after work for a little bit. It’s better than going home and drowning my sorrows in alcohol and left over holiday treats.
Yesterday I really needed it. While Tony and I exchanged a couple of texts on the weekend I’m determined to give him at least a few days of silence.
So I got on the treadmill after work. Set that bastard for 45 minutes and tried to sweat Tony out of my system. I managed to not cry as I had flashbacks of some fairly sensual moments we’ve had together. The images of him biting my shoulder or taking my finger is his mouth are insanely potent.
Afterwards I went to a friends house – a last minute invite when she heard about my heartbreak.
As I walked in her front door my phone pinged; a text from Lewis. I hadn’t responded to him from our conversation on the weekend and figured I’d let him demonstrate interest. I didn’t respond and instead left my phone in my purse where it belongs.
Her husband made us dinner and we debrief. They both like Tony – he shares the devotion to a certain soccer team. Their younger daughter remembered our conversation last time about a tattoo I may get – Ganesh, remover of obstacles – it fits me personally and professionally. She’s only 8 and so inquisitive. Am I going to have more children, why is Tony now my ex boyfriend, why do I commemorate the age I was at 39 in a tattoo. You know, simple questions.
Talking about Tony is somewhat helpful, but I’ve done so much processing her it feels different. I do like hearing my friends insight and feedback, and it’s nice to be supported.
On the way home I texted Lewis back. There was flirting and in the 20 minute commute, he suggested a “nightcap”. Code for “a drink and minimal conversation before I fuck you silly”.
I retorted I thought I was supposed to play hard to get for longer to increase my perceived value. He joked it would kill him as the blood has drained elsewhere.
What the hell.
He came over just before 11pm and he left just before 2am. We caught up briefly on life and work before he grabbed my hand to kiss me in my kitchen. He can wrap his arm almost completely around my body. He is still crazy strong with an insane body.
But the moment I kissed him, I missed Tony. Nobody kisses like Tony.
In the three hours of fucking, I did manage to get out of my head a little bit at times. If fucking could work to get Tony out of my head, then the best candidate to do so is Lewis. He’s tall, incredibly muscular, with a crazy huge cock and tons of stamina.
Yet even though the technical sexual marks with Lewis may be higher in many areas than with Tony, it doesn’t matter. Nothing can compare to the way Tony and I moved together and the depth of emotion we had for each other. Comparisons aren’t fair but they are hard to avoid.
Lewis fucked me silly. Six ways from Sunday. Whatever term works. Compared to the last time, he was actually far more attuned to my body and my limits. He was kinder and moved more sensually with me, instead of just pounding away. He paid good attention to all my lady parts. He reveled in my orgasms. He brought me water and initiated round two.
We may see each other again, there’s been some discussion of other things we’d like to try. He’s keen on adding another one or two big black cocks to a session with me, which I’d love. I have no illusions about this being anything more than sex, and that’s okay.
But it doesn’t make the loss of Tony any better. As a time filler, there are definitely worse things.
I worked with my trainer today again to see if I can sweat Tony out. If nothing else, reversing the impact of gravity on my ass can’t ever be a bad thing.
Four days and counting…