entry #35 - vanishing cream ?

                                    

                                          
⚠️ mentions of sex. drugs. Honda Four's ⚠️
I whimper a bit, as we keep kissing... and suddenly, with no real reason and no prior notice, his fingertips begin to rub my cheeks while we both get ourselves back together from the raunchy action. His very unexpected, rather sweet touch startles me up and has me whimpering under my breath some more. His just as unexpected kiss, sweet n'loving, literally sweeps me off my feet. Suddenly, my throat feels dry and it seems as though as it's 150 degrees in this room. And it's all his fault. 
This guy is doing me something that I wouldn't even be able to describe. Because I've never felt it before in my life... and it freaks me out, but at the same times it draws me more and more to him. He confuses me once every 120 seconds... but the more he confuses me, the more I want him. It's like, attraction at its finest. And I can't escape it. 
We've had an immaculate fuck, rough but still somewhat sensual, and now we're basically all cuddled up and very undone. Kissing, holding, giggling, caressing and all the good things. 
This is beautiful, and I wasn't seeing it happening. I wasn't really expecting him to walk away like nothing had happened after the deed, he's far better mannered than his bandmate Cuntrell ... but no way I was expecting him to wrap me up into his arms, cradle me, kiss me, rub my cheek and laugh into my ear. He is an absolute babe, kind to a fault and very, very sweet. I had no idea he was, so this came in like a much appreciated surprise. I would've never guessed that a hunk with a nose piercing, a few issues and a massive 'I don't give a flying shit' aura to himself could've ever been so soft with a girl who's a nobody to him. I am that girl and that nobody, tonight, and I know my luck. Tomorrow or in two days from now, someone else's gonna be into his arms... and I'm fucking jealous of them. The thought that I'm just a postmark to him is enough to make me whine in frustration and hopelessness, when he pulls me closer to him, and buries his face in the fabric of the shirt I'm wearing. Right on my back, like he's totally harmless. 
He ain't harmless... he's just torn and taking his much deserved rest. Let's not forget, he's the same guy who was pounding me to excess until two minutes ago. I am the same girl who was getting pounded to excess until two minutes ago, and my legs are still shaking from the mindblowing sex. Now we're tame, not fucking anymore, but we still can't take our hands off eachother. More like, he can't take his hands off me, cause I'm still bent over the makeup table and I can't touch him to save my life. This is unfair, but what would even be the point of complaining ?
Jesus, how I'd like to turn and kiss him dry. Rub his hair and hear him mumble against my lips. Look at him slowly picking his breath back together, lay down here with him until he decides that it's perhaps time to go. But I can't even move a thumb. I'm still bent over this table, with a man twice my size on top of me, and all I can do is letting myself loose into his arms. Digging each and every second of his sweet, little, perhaps a little bit confusional way of taking care of me after he's destroyed me.
It's official. I can stay nice after sex, but he's far nicer than me. I would've never found the bravado to hold him post deed, but he found it with me and I appreciate it a lot. Even if it confuses me, and it makes me feel like, maybe, I'm a little bit more than a simple postmark to him. 
After sex, I  just roll by the side, light myself a cigarette and crack jokes until my partner falls asleep... he shuts his mouth and acts like the perfect romance novel boyfriend. He doesn't ask if I've liked the sex, nor make comments about the whole performance. Where has he been my entire life, fuck's sake ?
I am being held tight into his arms, he ain't moving an inch and he's breathing heavily against my back. I have to bite the inside of my cheek because the impossibility to kiss him and touch him is killing the lovergirl inside of me. This little aftercare thing ain't happening in my terms, but it doesn't make it any less sweet than it is, just because it's happening in his terms. I fucking love Sean's terms. He doesn't have the most forbite terms to himself, but he always delivers the message on point. 
His message is pretty clear right now... he wanted to fuck me, he's loved fucking me, but this doesn't end here, tonight. He's still here and not going anywhere.