100 Miles and Running

IWouldWalk500Miles

The day finally came, March, year 23.

My outfit was strategically chosen: the leggings he said he loved on me, my favorite shirt that was very easy to take off, the bra that made my breasts look their biggest and best. I was dressing for the strip down, but my mind was racing about finally meeting in person. What if he sees me and doesn't think I'm as cute as my pictures? What if I go all that way, and he's just not attracted to me anymore? I didn't worry about his looks. He was the most gorgeous human being I had ever known. I'd still love him if the pictures were better than the real thing. I was more worried about my own appearance. I only try to show my best angles online.

Anxiety aside, I hopped into my mid 2000's truck, cranked up the radio, and hit the road.

The drive took about an hour and 45 minutes. An hour and 45 minutes to overthink every conversation we've had in the past few months. An hour and 45 minutes to think, "should I just turn back? He can't shoot me down and break my heart if I just don't show up." But I continued east.

As I got closer my heart was beating out of my chest, stronger with each mile in the city limits. I turned onto his street. I was going to stop out front and compose myself before I let him know I was there. I was a nervous wreck. But when I was a few houses down, I looked up to where his house number should have been, and there he was. He was sitting on the curb waiting for me. I had no time to calm myself down. Would this be an awkward mess?

I pulled up and turned my truck off. I looked down and thought, damn, if only I had lost a few more pounds. By the time I looked up, he was standing outside my door. I opened it and stumbled out. Smooth. He towered over me, a mere 5'5". It was strange though, we admitted it to each other later, but the moment we were finally there in front of each other, we weren't nervous anymore. Like it was meant to be. He even said one night later, in an emotional whirlwind, that he had never been so comfortable with a girl as he was with me.

He wrapped his long arms strewn with lean muscles, around me, and I wanted to live in that place forever.

We walked inside, and his roommate was in the living room. There was some small talk, some "nice to finally meet you"s, and then a "let me show you my room".

He shut the door behind him, and a faint nerve ticked. I hadn't been physical with someone in a while. Especially not someone I had feelings for. What if we hyped it up in our messages so much that I leave disappointed?

We sat down next to each other on the bed, a slight tension in the air. I felt his thigh move against mine. Then a hand, much larger than mine with fingers I had many inappropriate thoughts about, touched my cheek. He turned my face toward him, and when my eyes met his, I think the world stopped for a thousand years. Who knew a set of eyes could be so powerful? That kiss though. I couldn't process a thought when he had me under his spell. When those lips released me, I just knew. I knew those were the only lips I ever wanted to kiss, for the rest of my life.

We looked each other up and down, the bodies we had seen in so many pictures finally in front of us. He was an other worldy level of attractive.

It all happened so quickly after that. He moved my hand towards his zipper. His shorts, my leggings, his boxer briefs, my boxer briefs (I found really cute men's underwear and had to buy them), all across the floor. The pictures did not do him justice. I won't lie, it wasn't the biggest I had ever seen, but bigger isn't always better. A tad more than above average, but wider than any ever should be, it was beautiful.

That day, it was good, but I'd learn a month later that it could get much better.