Its Not Me Its Him Pt. 02 Finale

The sex was unforgettable. The aftermath nearly destroyed me.

If only you knew what really happened when I got to Atlanta and why it's taken me 2 years to update this story. I'll also explain why it ends here and now.

If we were sitting together right now, maybe on a balcony with the city glowing behind us, a glass of wine in my hand and too many thoughts in my head, I'd lean in and whisper this next part. Quietly, slowly and like a secret I've never told anyone properly.

After those two unforgettable afternoons with Rick in London, I should've walked away satisfied. I should've taken the sex for what it was, brief, brilliant, and over. But I didn't. Something about him lingered, haunted me in that frustratingly delicious way only someone you can't quite have manages to do.

When he returned to Atlanta, I agonised for days about him. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and I spent my days fantasising about going there.

Then, one random morning after we exchanged a few texts, I booked a flight like a fool trying to rewrite destiny. I arranged to work remotely from the States for a month, booked a place, and left.

I expected fireworks, perhaps a third night to seal whatever this thing was between us. Instead, I got a half-hearted blowjob in a rented apartment and a kind of awkward silence I still remember too clearly. I shut the door behind me and promised myself that was it. Rick, or Robert, or whatever name I was using for him in my head, was a chapter closed.

He came over, after countless hours counting down to my arrival. He was shocked, worried and excited that I was coming for a whole month and we played with the idea we'd fuck a lot.

After a long flight, I got to the airbnb and quickly showered before even unpacking. It was late, so Rick/Robert came over.

High as a kite.

Of course, I'd only meg him a couple of times in London and I had no idea he was this much into his drugs. But as soon as he walked in, everything was off and I was turned off.

I gave him a blowjob, pushed him out and promptly blocked him.

That was day one in Atlanta.

But that's when another door opened.

Ben Jamin.

It started with a Grindr message. A blank profile with no photos, just a line that said "Hey."

I don't know why I responded. Maybe I was bored or maybe I still wanted to feel something. Probably, I was just horny and stupid. Whatever the reason, I invited him over.

And when he arrived, everything changed.

That was day two in Atlanta.

The man who walked into my apartment that day was magnetic in a way that made your skin remember him long after he'd left, and he didn't leave for many hours so I had a lot to remember on our first encounter.

He barely said anything, but then he didn't need to. Ben looked at me like he already knew what I needed, and then he gave it to me.

What followed was, without exaggeration, the most intense sexual experience of my life. The kind that makes the walls sweat. The kind you replay for years. And in the moment, it felt perfect, like redemption or even perhaps the reason things didn't work out with Rick was because this was meant to happen instead.

Of course, that was before everything fell apart.

This isn't a story about trauma. I'm not telling you all those details. I'll save the deeper details for those who want to follow the trail. What you'll get here is the sex, the connection, the spark that started it all. What came after was months of slow destruction, of charm weaponised and truth distorted, of a man who wore intimacy like a mask and turned affection into control.

But that first day, I didn't know any of that.

That day, I only knew the way he touched me, the way he looked at me and made me feel like I was the only man who'd ever mattered.

So let me take you back there, to that moment, to the start of something that should have been just another hookup, but ended up being the beginning of the worst chapter of my life and the reason I never finished part one. Also the reason why I disappeared off the internet for nearly 18 months and never returned to finish part one of this story until today.

And yes, I still remember every filthy, mind-blowing, toe-curling second of it.

Ben was 37, and to me, a very good looking guy. He described himself as a jock, and I'd have to agree. Dark haired, fit, smooth where it counts, light goatee and beard and eyes that make you cum.

It was hot, late summer, so naturally he was in shorts and a t-shirt, sneakers and white socks up his legs. Those white socks were a bit high and almost to his knees, but I figured it was a fashion statement. I didn't find out until later why.

He used my bathroom, and took just over thirty minutes in there.

When he came out, I was a little angry "Mate, if you're doing drugs, or high, I'd prefer it if you just left. That's not my scene," I told him, and I meant it.

He looked upset, then looked away. I could see tears form in his eyes. He began to nod, then looked at me, as the tears began to fall.

He sobbed. "I'm sorry. I have this pain in my legs."

That's when I noticed the socks were to hide compression stockings. They ended just under the knee, but even then I could see angry red marks. Like if I peeled them down, it would get ugly.

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

"I just have to check on them, he finished.

There was this sense of a little boy in there, so lost, who'd been through hell and back and naturally, my instinct was to launch into a resue.

"Hey," I leaned towards him, putting my hands on his shoulders. Although I was sad to see him so upset, I was also ridiculously turned on by him, which was weird given the circumstances.

"Would you rather have a coffee? Do you want to go for a walk? Would you like to talk?" I remember offering him a few options.

Those green eyes, so sad yet so alluring. Brimming with tears, but looking at me. Really seeing me.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know why I got so upset. My legs have been troubling me for a while. But it's not your problem. Do you want me to go?"

We danced around this for a few moments, both trying to politely determine what the other wanted.

I just launched forward and kissed him on the lips.

He didn't stiffen, nor push me away. Instead, his lips opened to mine and we kissed.

That kiss was incredible. It was an instant ice breaker. His lips were perfectly tender and warm, and his tongue responsive and nubile, meeting mine playfully and tentatively, with promises of more.

As we kissed, I peeked. His eyes opened and up close, we looked at each other for a second, before closing them again and immersing myself into what I can only describe as an incredibly, passionate and deep kiss.

I don't know how long we stood, our bodies pressed up close, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, and our dicks hard and pressed up against the other in shorts.

If I told you that we melted into each other, you'd struggle to understand that unless you'd experienced it.

My hands went under his t-shirt, and I played with his chest. I circled his pecs and felt some chest hairs. He was as muscular as I'd imagined for someone who described themselves as a jock, but not perfectly to the point where there was nothing to grab onto.

As I felt him up and down, explored blindly with my hands, while we kissed, I slowly gyrated my hips so our cocks could rub through our shorts.

I paused for a second to take his t-shirt off. He gasped, as though it was cold, but the airconditioner had already been struggling in the late September heat, so I thought maybe he felt exposed suddenly, so I removed my t-shirt too.

His hands lightly played with my chest, and he gave me a heart-warming smile that let me know he was very interested.

Those eyes; so green with the odd flicker of blue, seduced me. We kissed again, arms wrapped around each other. His hands up and down my back, sneaking down to my butt and then around my front. I felt his hand on my bulge, then back around to my butt.

I let my hands explore too, then slowly backed towards the bed as we kissed. I undid the one button on his shorts, then the zipper, and I slowly let them fall.

They landed on the floor with a thud. His phone had been in the pocket.

"Oh fuck, sorry!" I said.

He bent to check his phone, but it was alright.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

He shrugged. "You can make it up to me."

I pulled my shorts down and manouvered him to the bed slowly, gently pushing him onto it and forcing him to lay down, then I lay on top of him and pressed our dicks together while we kissed. I was careful not to crush him, keeping my legs on either side for balance and counter-weight, but he didn't seem to mind and kept pressing me onto him firmer.

Laying on top of him, I felt the heat around us and the barely functional airconditioner, as we kissed and fell into our own world.

We removed underpants and I saw his cock for the first time. I'd never seen a picture of it, it was less than average size, but not small and weirdly shaped, and cut, which was a very American thing I'd noticed.

He pushed me over and lay on top, rubbing his cock against mine, and our chests together while we kissed. This was something I loved to and was surprised he seemed to be into it as much as I was.

We did this for quite somet time, so long in fact, that after what felt like an hour of intense, passionate kissing and rubbing, I paused to get us water.

When I came back to the bed, he was laying there, naked obviously but with a look in his eyes like he'd always been there.

I can't remember the last time someone made me feel multiple emotions, not just fucking ridiculously horny.

We drank water, then resumed love making. I licked his pecs, and sucked on his nipples, enjoying the shape of them. I could tell he'd been a wrestler by the shape of them.

And his belly, very small but very cute, was very lickable. My tongue explored all of him.

I paused, "how much time do you have?" I said it with a seductive smile, almost pleading for him to say he had a lot.

He shrugged, seeming a bit confused by the question. "A lot I guess."

"Good," I said. "I want to make this last."

"Sounds good to me!" he said, and pulled me back in for another kiss.

I found my way back to his cock. I wanted to explore it further. I put it in my mouth, just the head first, savouring the taste of his precum, which there was a lot of. I let it enter my mouth slowly, and I heard him gasp, and his hands went to the back of my head and tenderly stroked my hair and my ears, and the back of my neck as I began sucking him.

It is something I'm good at, and something I give a lot of attention to if I like the person.

Because he wasn't huge, I was able to take it all into my mouth. As the tip of his cock reached the back of my throat, I could smell the base of his cock and his pubic hair. It was sweet smelling, like a bit of a nice soap and a little bit of sweat.

It made me hungry.

I came up for air and he pulled me into a rewarding kiss, then gently pushed me over and began to lick my nipples, circling my pecs with his tongue, as he slowly went down and did to me what I'd just done to him.

He looked up at me, with those innocent eyes which just earlier had filled with tears, and put my dick in his mouth and began to suck.

I moaned. Something about the way he looked at me, the way he put my dick in his mouth gently as though it was a secret he was willing to keep. It felt like I was putting an important part of my body in his mouth and he wanted me to know I could trust him.

He gave me a damn blowjob that let me know that he was as into me as I was into him.

Sucking a dick with that much care usually happened because there was something more there.

He sucked me nice and deep, and I felt myself wanting to jizz more than a few times. In fact I had to stop him, because after a few minutes, I wanted to do it again.

Then Ben slowly slid up and rubbed against me, then sat on my cock so he could rub his butt on it.

It felt good and hot. He watched me, with a cheeky grin that said, 'I'm about to let you inside and you're going to enjoy it'. I was more than ready for that to happen.

"You wanna fuck me?" he said, casually and very innocently.

"Uhuh," I said, holding his hips and helping him gyrate on top of me.

"Yeah?" he nodded, putting some spit on his hand and then reaching behind him.

It felt good on my cock and I could feel him put some on his butt.

I pointed to the lube to the side, and he saw it but smiled.

With one hand on my chest, and the other behind him, he carefully pushed the tip of my cock against his hole.

I'd briefly glimpsed his butt, and I knew it was a pretty perfect butt. So round and so smooth.

He didn't look like someone who gave that arse away to anyone.

The head of my dick pushed just inside the hole, so he reached over and grabbed the lube, and started putting it on me and himself.

Then he sat on it again, all the while watching me. Then it slowly started to slide in.

It felt really hot, like someone had dialed the temperature up.

Once it was most of the way in, he leaned forward and kissed me. But not just kissed me, he pressed our chests together which was something I love.

It's like he knew all of the things I liked in bed.

Our kiss was even more tender, and intense and passionate as my dick slowly and carefully, with measured thrusts, went in and of this hot jock's butt.

Our kiss was even more tender, and intense and passionate as my dick slowly and carefully, with measured thrusts, went in and out of this hot jock's butt. His breath hitched against my lips with every movement, and I held him by the hips, guiding him down on me while watching his face for every reaction. His eyes fluttered shut, he bit his lip, and moaned into my mouth. I felt every inch of him squeezing around me, tightening, adjusting, then relaxing in rhythmic pulses that pulled more moans out of both of us.

We moved like we'd done this before in another life. Slow and fluid at first, learning each other's pace, kissing between strokes, gasping between kisses. He rode me with his hands on my chest and mine on his waist, and when he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against mine, I felt something shift. This wasn't just sex, not anymore.

The room was warm, our skin slick with sweat. The bed creaked beneath us but we didn't care. We were locked into each other, both physically and in something less visible, harder to name. My legs trembled as I held back from cumming too soon. He grunted softly, then pressed his chest to mine again and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his body clinging to mine as we moved together. I kissed him, long and deep, and felt his tongue curl against mine with a hunger that didn't match the tenderness in his touch.

He started to move faster, grinding into me as he gasped into my mouth. I knew he was close, so I held him tighter. I whispered his name against his lips, and that seemed to push him over the edge. His whole body trembled as he moaned loudly into the crook of my neck, and I felt the hot splash of him between our stomachs. The contractions around my cock pushed me over the edge too, and I came inside him with a groan that felt like I'd waited years for it.

I exploded and felt it gush into him, over and over, every spurt felt like an eruption in itself. And all the while I shot loads into him, he squirted his all over me and there seemed to be a lot of that.

He fell on top of me, exhausted.

We held each other in silence after that. Just breathing, our hearts racing. Skin to skin.

Eventually, he shifted to the side, not away from me but into me, curling up so we were face to face, chest to chest, with his head on the pillow next to mine. He looked at me one last time, kissed me, then took my hand in his and pulled it against his chest.

Our lips stayed together while our fingers remained entwined.

He fell asleep like that, breathing softly into my mouth, his arm around my waist, his legs tangled with mine, as though I was the thing he needed to hold onto to stay grounded.

And for that moment, I let myself believe it was real.

We fell asleep that day, knowing that when we woke up, we'd do it again. And I was there for a month, and somehow instinctively knew that somehow, he'd be around for all of that.

And then I'd leave, and my entire reason for being in Atlanta wouldn't have been a waste.

We fell asleep that day, knowing that when we woke up, we'd do it again. And I was there for a month, and somehow instinctively knew that somehow, he'd be around for all of that.

But that day was the beginning of what started as something beautiful, something unforgettable.

The sex was unforgettable. The aftermath nearly destroyed me.

And maybe one day I'll tell you everything that happened after the orgasm. But not here. Not today.