The Saffa sends me WhatsApp messages on the Monday night, but I ignore these as I’m being pleasantly distracted by The Cockaholic’s oral fixation. Over the course of the week The Saffa and I speak only once a day, either in the morning or the night, not three times a day like we used to. It’s all very civil, tinged with a sense of nervousness; where that comes from I don’t know. Is it from my sense of guilt? No, it’s her demeanour. Does she suspect something? I don’t think so.
She’s right, the romance is over, which is a shame because I love the romance. It might be fair to say I live for the romance. I hadn’t got enough of it with her and now it feels like the hard, steady grind of loveless, pointless relationship is all that awaits. The wheels have spun off and this cart is on its rickety chassis, sliding down a stony hill.
The Cockaholic has gone off to Spain with her mother for a week, I know in that time I must end things with The Saffa. I want a cleaner conscience as matters progress with The Cockaholic. On the Sunday morning I meet The Saffa at my station for what I expect will be he last time I’ll see her. After everything we’ve been through I think I owe it to her to let her down in person.
It’s dreary Autumn morning, rain is imminent, which adds to her sombre mood. We kiss hello, but its feckless. We end up back at my place, intent on going to visit another nearby town, but we don’t. After less than an hour of preparing a curry for lunch, her sipping wine and two episodes of Californication, she’s frisky. Her period is due in the coming week and I’m learning that, like most women, the week before her period is when she is horniest.
It isn’t lost on me that this is just like when I wanted to break up with Busty Czech in that sex got in the way. One last fuck, why not? Yes, I’m doing it again, caving in at the merest whiff of pussy. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m a satyr.
The Saffa complains of a trapped nerve in her right shoulder, so I get my massage oil…and the tube of KY jelly that she had left behind previously. My mind conjures up a naughty idea.
I give her a decent back massage and minutes later she’s sucking on my cock. We strip off in my lounge, try a bit of conventional sex, but I’ve got anal on my mind. She seemed up for it in the past and I never know when I might get another chance to do it properly, so I start talking dirty about it.
“Do you like sucking on my cock?” I begin.
“I love it,” she replies.
“Imagine feeling it in your pussy,” I continue, warming her brain up.
“Mmm,” she mumbles with my cock in her mouth.
“Now imagine feeling my cock in your arse,” I say, planting the idea in her head.
She doesn’t say anything, but just looks at me with her baby-blue eyes and smiles whilst maintaining suction. The Saffa ‘s almost as good a cock-sucker as The Cockaholic, but the latter still has the edge.
“Imagine feeling my cock pumping and squirting cum in your arse,” I say, going for the kill.
“Oh, fuck…” she utters.
“Imagine feeling my hot, sticky cum in your bum,” I say, hoping that this closes it.
“Oh, ja, let’s do it!” she says, dropping my erection out of her mouth and standing up.
Ah, she’s up for it, so I get the KY jelly and lubricate her arse with one finger. I smear some over my cock and we try doggy-style. I slide my cock into her anus slowly and and give a few gentle thrusts before she complains of the pain. She suggests missionary position which is weird to me, but we’re so close so we try it.
It works. After about thirty seconds of gentle ass-fucking, she’s relaxed and enjoying it. After about another minute she’s quite happy to parrot, “please fuck me in the arse” repeatedly, exactly as I tell her to.
“Please choke me while you fuck me in the arse,” she blurts out, throwing her arms up next to her head.
I oblige and The Saffa closes her eyes in utter satisfaction.
The Saffa’s arse feels like the tightest pussy I’ve ever penetrated, yet so smooth from the lube, thus giving me an exquisite sensation. My hips speed up and I can feel the lubricant wearing thin. I let myself cum, exploding ejaculate into her rectum, while still choking her. It’s difficult not to tighten my grip at a moment like this, so I let go for her own safety.
After a few seconds my orgasm subsides and I want to pull out, slowly edging my cock out of her arse.
“No, don’t. Stay. I want to feel it some more,” she says, snapping out of her own world and looking me in the eyes again.
For half a minute I press my fists into the sofa either side of her head as she savours whatever she’s feeling. She starts stroking my arms and chest, gripping various muscles, just like Krazy Girl used to. It’s nice to feel appreciated.
We takes turns going to the bathroom and end up watching more Californication with the slightest hint of excrement and ammonia in the air.
It’s getting time for her to go back, I start making noises about this, but true to form, The Saffa starts sucking on my cock. I don’t care if she gets into trouble at work; she doesn’t, so why should I?
She diligently sucks me off while I look down at her, thinking to myself about my cock having been in her arse a couple of hours ago.
Her train departs my station when she should have been reporting for work.
On the Tuesday night she phones me and within minutes we’re embroiled in a pointless argument about her work. Again she is rubbing her employers up the wrong way over a new issue and it shows her callous disregard for other people. Her psychopathic lack of empathy reminds me of my Exgf far too much. It’s especially the “fuck them” attitude that bothers me. It hints at what she’s like in a relationship – it really is all about her options.
The conversation gets heated, she keeps talking over me and The Saffa yet again abruptly hangs up on me. I decide that it’s for the last time, so in the morning I send her this email:
Sorry, but we clash far too much for my liking.
For several weeks now our relationship has felt like a clash of wills and not a romance.
I want the latter and convinced myself to give “us” time.
I’m going through a bit of a rough patch in my life at the moment and a roller-coaster relationship is the last thing I need right now.
I need to be with someone who lifts my spirits and is easy company – sadly, to me, you are neither of those things. I want a harmonious relationship – for you that would be boring because it seems to me that you court drama.
I’m having to put this in writing because, as last night proved, you won’t let me say my piece. I have to tell you that you have an annoying habit of talking over people. You have not learnt that there are times when keeping quiet is the best thing to do. You won’t do this because you like the drama – I hate drama.
If I were to try to have this conversation with you in person or over the phone, quite frankly, it would be impossible. It would only end badly.
So, despite the best of intentions and purest of hopes, it has become clear to me that we are just not right together.
We don’t bring out the best in each other. Outside of the bedroom we lack magic. At times it has felt like we are two draught horses pulling in opposite directions. That’s not how it should be.
We can’t even make pancakes together.
All you had to do was be nice to me. Instead, at times, you’ve treated me like the enemy.
I then realized that you’re just not going to open up your heart to me.
I just don’t have time and energy for a relationship like what we’ve had. It’s not what I want or deserve.
The time has come for us to go our separate ways.
I wish you all the best for the future.
After sending it I sit there with a heavy heart and I realize something. My transformation into Hank Moody from Californication is now complete because this scene springs to mind:
I find it interesting that The Saffa was on her best behaviour and most keen when she was trying to win me away from Busty Czech. As soon as she felt a sense of commitment or security from me her behaviour changed for the worse and her true colours came out. In the beginning she was compliant and agreeable to everything, but that quickly morphed into a battle of wills. I started to wonder if she was getting off on mind games, the silly, nasty power games that turbulent relationships are characterised by.
The Saffa wasn’t The One, despite my having some hope that she was. Our dalliance lasted little more than a month. I have learned some lessons from it, hopefully they stick in my psyche.
The Cockaholic hasn’t proven herself either way so I need to give it time with her, despite her being somewhat enigmatic. It’s a few days after saying goodbye to The Saffa and I’ve just developed doubts about who The Cockaholic really is with in Spain which is causing my Trust Demon to be stomping around.
Again it’s beginning to fade to grey, all so fucking grey.
Lessons learned: 1) Women are more competitive than men, especially in the romance stakes. Some women like a challenge by way of wooing a man away from another woman. I guess it partially explains why some women are attracted to married men: it makes them feel more of a woman if they can get a man off another woman. 2) Most woman like to have a sense of power in relationship. If they can bend a man to their will, then it makes them feel powerful. However, it’s a poisoned chalice because after a while her respect for him will erode and with that any sense of love. 3) Drama queens like the excitement that comes with drama, not caring how destructive to a relationship it might be. If there isn’t drama, they’ll create it. A passionate fight is better than being bored. 4) A sense of security for some women gives them the idea that they can treat a man badly because he will always be there. A little bit of insecurity certainly keeps bad behaviour at bay. 5) The way to deal with drama queens, megalomaniacs and challenge-seekers is to treat them badly. They respect a man then, they fear his strength and that excites them. It’s fucked up, but it works.
Visage – Fade to Grey