Adventure 13

Featured Image for The Guy-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Adventure 13 of the fiction blog Christy Palmer's Sexual Adventures

Yeah! You read right! Him! I did him this time, all the way. And I don’t regret anything! In fact, I’m really glad it happened, because it opened my eyes like nothing else could have. (If you do not know who the hell I’m talking about, go read—or reread—the exclusive story about The Ex here!, you’ll get everything !) Let me explain…


Want to start from the beginning?

Nothing much as happened in the past two weeks on the sex adventures front, thanks to the wonderful The End-Of-Semester madness! Seriously, I’ve literally been crushed under a pile of books and due papers. It was horrible! But somehow, I survived!

And with the end of the semester came unexpected news. A year ago, I had applied for a grant to go spend the summer as an intern for a prestigious publisher on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and I got selected! But the requirement was to have a major in English and with the whole Ex situation, well, I turned out not completing the requirement like I thought I would… The Teacher, after I told him I was going to quit college, explained to them why I refused the grant, without mentioning it to me.

Turns out they have a pretty awesome policy about mental illness issues, and that policy has a clause for missed internships because of a mental illness reason. Which means, I had a priority to be accepted the internship again this year!

But I went real close to lose my second chance. The Teacher came to my desk at the end of our last class together—for a second I thought he changed his mind about having sex with me, but when I saw his concerned teacher face, I understood it had nothing to do with that.

“[The Prestigious-Publishing-House] contacted me. They need to have an answer soon about the internship, and they wonder if you were feeling better,” he told me carefully.

My face must have said: “What the hell are you talking about?” for me because without waiting for an answer, he explained everything to me, and ended with:

“They send you a letter about three months ago to ask if you were still interested, but they never got an answer, that’s why they contacted me.”

Of course, I was still interested! How could I not be? Anyone would kill for this opportunity!

So during this end-of-the-semester craziness, I also had to plan everything in a rush for my awesome summer to be, all of that being more than furious about The Ex. Seriously, I’ve never been this enraged in my entire life!

He TOTALLY got the letter, he still lives in our apartment, where the letter was sent. And he TOTALLY knew how this was important to me because we had a major fight over me going away for a whole summer when I applied for the grant. And he TOTALLY decided to keep the letter to himself KNOWING how important this was to me! He didn’t even have to come and give it to me himself, he could have just sent it back to me; HE KNOWS MY NEW ADDRESS!

All that to say that when I randomly bumped into The Guy-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at The University when I was searching for a quiet place to study, I didn’t feel bad at all like I thought I would. I was seeing this meeting as an opportunity to take my anonymous revenge on The Ex. Because this guy is, for obvious reasons, the person The Ex hates the most in the entire universe. And I TOTALLY know that doing him is what would make The Ex raging the most.

“Oh [Christy]! How nice to meet you!” The Guy-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named told me with his incredibly sexy British accent—by the way, this accent is one of the many reasons why I had almost been unfaithful to my ex-boyfriend with this guy. “How are you?”

“I’m about to throw myself through a window due to the amount of work I have to do until the end of the semester! But other than that, I’m pretty great!”

I was searching out for a way to tell him that I was now single, but ending my sentence with: “… and I’m no longer with [The Ex] so!” made me seem a little desperate. All this time, since his penis came horribly close to my vagina, I kept wondering if I would still be so attracted to this guy, or if it was just an attraction that came from how bad was my relationship with The Ex at the time. I now had my answer: it DIDN’T come from the situation! At all!

“Do you want to come study over at my place?” You-Know-Who said with a sexy grin—yes, another of the many reasons… Which made me realize that I was worrying about nothing when I was searching for a way to tell him I was no longer in a relationship; he never cared about me not being available before, why would he care about it now?

So I went with him to his amazing place: a penthouse overlooking the whole city. His parents are very wealthy (I think his grant-father is a Sir or something) and they give him all the money he could ever dream of. Which surely explains why he is getting his Ph.D. in Philosophy (after getting double-majoring in Philosophy and Medieval Studies) and why he starts laughing at your face when you ask him what he plans on doing after he’ll graduate.

As I suspected it, we didn’t touch any of our school work once we were at his place. He opened a bottle of champagne he said he had kept on ice for a great occasion like this one and we started talking like in the old days (like, a year and a half ago).

And during our conversation, I had to be honest with myself: what was going on with The Guy-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was more than a sexual tension. I had been kidding myself thinking it was just about chemistry, but talking with him again made me remember that it was more than that. Chatting with him was as easy as it had always been and I found myself wondering if we could give ourselves a chance, now that The Ex was definitely not in the portrait anymore.

So when he started getting close to me and when we started kissing, I began imagining what our life together could be, wondering if someone, somewhere had not planned this whole adventure for me, from the almost cuckold thing, to my break-up, to now. And a part of me thought that if it was all a plan, it might be worth it at the end.

We got to his bedroom and his penis finally entered my vagina, and let me tell you, the sex was definitely something! All I could think about when we got off each other was that I could totally get used to having this kind of sex on a regular basis.

“Just so you know, I’m not with [The Ex] anymore.” The words just came out of my mouth. It just felt too good having him on my side between those expensive sheets, I couldn’t refrain myself.

“Oh! Good for you!” You-Know-Who said getting out of the bed. It wasn’t the kind of answer I was looking for.

“Which means, we can… you know… be together if you’d like that. Because he is definitely not in the way anymore!” Oh my gosh! How I lose my brain when I’m around him! A 12-year-old girl who come up with a better answer!

He stopped looking out for his shirt and turned around, sitting back on the bed beside me.

“Darling,” he said putting his hand under my chin, softly. “I hope you didn’t mistake what was going on between us to be more than just a physical connexion? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, really.”

Yeah.

All my little fantasies of a life with him disappeared in an instant. And I remembered why I used to hate this guy; he always made me think there were emotions between us when all he really wanted was sex. A major case of assholeness here!

“This is another truth universal acknowledged Jane Austen never talked about: the man who stoles your heart from another man is the one who is going to break it,” I told The Party-Friend over a bottle of wine after telling her what had happened with You-Know-Who.

“Maybe… But I think that when your heart can be stolen, it’s because it wasn’t really belonging to anybody in the first place…” added The Party-Friend. This girl is just so wise sometimes.

And this wiseness somehow made me realize for the first time, really realize and believe, that maybe I wasn’t in love with The Ex anymore when The Guy-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came around. That maybe I had been kidding myself all along, imagining I never stopped loving him. I must have stopped loving him, somewhere between the time he asked me the ending of Huckleberry Finn and the moment a second penis was just about to enter my vagina but didn’t.

I don’t know when it happened exactly, but I know one thing for sure now: I don’t love him anymore. I am finally free of this love, of this relationship, and all the suffering that came with it.

I can finally move on, for real.

What’s next? Well, I don’t know. But I’m open to anything.


What did you think of Christy’s adventure this week?
Tell me in the comments!


Wanna know the truth about Christy's break up?
(Yeah... She lied about it...)

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