Back to Work

I slept late today. Later than I should have, but not as late as yesterday.

Primarily because I have things to do tomorrow. Just basically going up to a lesser Corona-infested area to go food shopping and other stuff (I’ve been asking around, and why the fuck am I the only person that does this. Literally less than a commute distance away in the opposite direction there are towns that have zero infections) not that I even really need food (I so don’t actually) but I’ll be out anyway.

I don’t know why, but for some reason I don’t want to lie to the boy, but I’m totally comfortable lying to my boyfriend. I think it’s because I don’t feel like my boyfriend can relate to any aspect of my life, but I feel like the boy does. I’m probably wrong, honestly. I want to find out. I think I’m almost ready. I hope he is.

Actually, I don’t know what to hope for anymore. I dreamed about work last night.

I’m not sure if I’m adequately remembering the setting, as my sleep was interrupted by a phone call that I really should have gotten up for (it came in at the perfect wakeup time, and the call after it was important)

This is all out of order, let me grab the thread where I can and see how far I can rip back the seam.

I was in a house owned by someone I haven’t talked to in a long time. I should call her. I think she’s a racist but I might have misunderstood. I’m also not sure why I thought it was her house, as I do believe that I was in my own bedroom (possibly a result of the phone call). The rug was that same weird beige, the mirror was in the same spot, the bed was against the same wall.

Come to think of it, it was my bedroom done in her aesthetic. Which I have always admired, frankly. She keeps a beautiful home. I do believe there were stairs leading up to the bedroom, which there are not in mine, but I believe are in hers. However, I feel like this room was oriented in the house along the same pattern as my bedroom was in my childhood house – up the stairs, to the right. But which room was it there? My brother and I both had bedrooms on the right of the top floor.

I keep slowing down and clicking away already. Let’s get on with this. The only way around is through. What the fuck is the point of sitting here if I’m not going to open up.

I had a man with me. Generic middle aged white man. I believe he was already naked, because I generally remember clothes more clearly than the person wearing them (wow). We went into the room – I believe leaving my aforementioned friend’s company downstairs, but I can’t remember. Anyway, we went into the room, and I got on the bed.

Come to think of it, there was even a wicker chair in the corner of the room, as there is in mine.

I don’t know how graphic I need to be at this point, why I’m uncomfortable being graphic at this point, and who I’m trying to hide from anyway. I don’t think the ad clicker has been here in weeks.

His dick was unremarkable.

Another man came in, I believe he was a brunette with glasses, and I believe he was wearing white tube socks (there we go). He sat in the chair in the corner, and began some rather cheerful banter as he took off his socks.

He got up and stood in front of the bed, and I believe another naked man wearing a white towel came in behind him (this would indicate that the room was laid out differently than mine…). I bent over and took his cock in my mouth, while the original man got behind me on the bed. I could feel him get hard, rub against me, and slip inside.

Without a condom.

I remember thinking that this was not worth it, what could happen, what people would say, why was he doing it <=== these feelings should be unpacked outside of this quotation.

I let him keep going to a few thrusts, then got up, turned around, licked off his cock, and put a lime green (I do love that color, though it did not match the rug whatsoever) condom on him and continued.

I remember the glasses wearing brunette whose (I never know the difference between who’s and whose) cock I was sucking glibly saying something about it, and I think the other dude in the room did too.

Other than that, the encounter continued unremarkably.

I tossed around for a while before I finally got up, at 3:01

I woke up so horny I considered staying in bed and masturbating, and I think I stayed in bed and considered it so long that the beginning of this dream evaporated. There was more.

I’m fighting the urge not to text the boy. There’s a lot going on in my head. I wasn’t going to text him anything sexual, just start the dialogue for the day.

I remember, actually I was remembering last night and have been trying to remind myself continually as I feel like it is an important note to aid in objective evaluation as if that is even possible with these things, that there was a time not too many years ago that I used to feel this way about my boyfriend. What will I do when I feel this way about the boy, the way that I currently feel about my boyfriend?

On the one hand, I will have lost so much. There are forks in the road of this narrative, and I’m not sure which way to go. While I was writing about my dream, I kept slowing down in my writing, unable to get my fingers to type out the scene that I was recounting in my memory. Now, I’m procrastinating taking a sip from my mug so that I have more time to write.

Every time I say on the one hand, I only get through one hand.

At most.

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