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My Pancake Man

There won't be any days off for pancakes.
It’s not often that I give my heart out to a man. Sex is easy to accomplish but when they start getting interested in me, I freeze up. I think to myself, “there is no way he wants to know me.” But this story is different. Slightly. This is the story about the man who it is still impossible for me to hate even though I should. This is the story of my Pancake Man.

I admit I haven’t known him long but the things he could do to me made my heart beat faster like it never had before. Don’t get me wrong, I respond sexually to a lot of people but not like I did to him. Not like I still do to thoughts of him. The problem is, with every other man, I would get bored in the first 10 minutes and just pretend the rest so that they would go away. I get to feel a man’s touch and they get a great blowjob. No harm, no foul.

With my Pancake Man, things went by so slowly. I could be happy just kissing him. We went out on his motorcycle once and stopped at this park. I’m a naturally playful person and I was teasing him. I’d run just a little bit in front of him and then look over my shoulder at him. He made me feel alive. He hadn’t run after me the last few times that I ran like that but his long legs caught up to mine quickly enough by just walking faster. Well this next time I ran ahead, I heard the sound of him running after me and my heart and brain froze. He caught me around the waist before I could do anything else and had me pinned up against a tree. He was easily seven inches taller than me but his lips met mine anyways and my fight for dominance was lost for eternity. This was a man that I couldn’t bring to his knees and throw away. He was strong and dominant and damned passionate. His tongue overtook mine and he bit my lower lip, sucking on it and making me moan into his mouth.

He then led me slowly over to one of the aluminum lunch tables set up throughout the park and sat me between his legs where I relaxed back onto him and could simply enjoy the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around me. I felt safe and that safety scared me like nothing else could. If you have safety, it means it can be taken away.

He began whispering sweet nothings into my ear, nibbling on my lobe while he did and I felt a warm tingling sensation building in my lower abdomen. My eyes closed as he moved down to my neck and his words started to blur together in my mind. He began describing things for me and immediately, I had images in front of my eyes in slow motion. I was imagining everything he was saying.

I could picture him leading me by the hand into a bedroom with a huge bed in the middle. “I want to know you inside and out.” I could picture him laying me down slowly and following me, making sweet, passionate lo-- My brain froze and I remembered the last time I fell into any kind of emotion like that for a man. I ended up shattered and crying in my shower. I was out of his arms and almost to the parkinglot before I could think and play it cool. My arms went around my chest to hug me and I could feel myself shaking. Tears were in my eyes and all I could think was that I needed to get away but I had been having too much fun on his motorcycle to pay attention to where we were going and frankly, I was lost.

Before I could make any sort of decision, he was behind me trying to put his arms around me. “Are you alright? Babe, I’m sorry. I promise to go slow with you. That won’t be any time soon. You are an amazing, beautiful woman. The woman I would wait for. The kind of woman I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know.”

Now that I look back on it, I remember him saying “the kind of woman” but at the time all I heard was comfort and safety and the idea that he liked me enough to stick around for awhile. All I acknowledged was that he wasn’t going to leave me any time soon.

I automatically relaxed and my naive heart fluttered. He had broken down all my minds barriers faster than anyone before him. In fact, he was the first to break them all down since my first relationship nearly five years ago. He was now in the room with my heart and I hadn’t even done a pat-down to see if he had a knife on him before he entered.

He sat and asked me questions about myself. I told him my life slowly but surely. He sat coaxing out the things that I never told anyone. My heart and mind were bared before him like a feast in front of a starving dog. And I felt good. It felt so good to have someone understand and be patient. It felt so good to feel love and tell myself that I could see myself falling in love with him someday even though my logical part of my mind told me I was already in too deep and more in love with him than I had ever been. That logical part of me kept rearing its ugly head, telling me I was going to get hurt. But he felt so good. So right.

By the time we were done at the park, it was nearly 2 in the morning and way to late for him to drive me home on his roaring motorcycle. We went back to his house and switched to his much quieter car. He took me home two hours later after a heating kissing session in his car. He wouldn’t touch me because he knew I would wake up in the morning and run away, but he kissed me and held me and whispered sweet nothings that made me smile. No barriers were stopping him from speaking these words. My barriers had left me and his sweet nothings were becoming sincere thoughts in my mind. He didn’t have sex with me that night and I couldn’t find any reason besides that he really liked me. I told myself I could trust him and believed it with my whole heart.

Our next date was at Denny’s. We went out for a late dinner after he got off work and again spent hours in his car. I felt his finger enter me for the first time and nearly cried in pleasure. The way he was moving made me come so close to something I had never been ballsy enough to throw myself into. I made him stop before I had my first orgasm in his car. He whispered to me, “I want to be inside you for your first orgasm.” I couldn’t stifle the moan at the idea of him possessing me like that. I wanted to give him everything. With him, it wouldn’t just be sex, he would make love to me.

I automatically wanted to feel him at least in my mouth. He helped me to undo his jeans and I slipped my lips around his erect cock. I loved the feeling of having him in my mouth. He was a mixture of soft and hard, like velvet over steel. I finally understood what that statement meant.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to cum and you are going to regret doing this tomorrow. Stop now.” I didn’t want to but I knew he was right. I’d wake up tomorrow feeling like a whore, so I stopped. We made out for another half hour and he took me home. That night I sent him a few more pictures to help him get off. I hadn’t ever sent pictures like that to a man but he now had many of them and I wanted to give him more.

We texted all the next day and I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper into feelings for him. He assured me that he was feeling the same.

Two days later I received a text from him in the morning. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit.”

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I knew what this was before he could even go on, but with a painful glimmer of hope that it wasn’t, I asked him to go on.

It was exactly what I thought it was. He wasn’t going to see me again. He said it was because he didn’t want to hurt me. He wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that our story would end well and he didn’t want to take the risk of hurting me like the other men in my life had. What he didn’t realize was that every word he wrote felt like someone stabbing me in the chest. He was giving me up. And the worst part was that I knew it wasn't because he was a player. A player would have slept with me first. I had no reason to hate him and forget about him. Hating him would have been so much easier.

For the second time in my life I found myself crying in my shower, but this time the warm water wasn't comforting because I only wanted his hands. The hope in my chest is still alive and every day I masturbate to thoughts of him but my logical self knows he’s never coming back. I asked God for an intelligent man and he gave me one who over-thought a non-existent relationship. Just my luck. And we never got to have pancakes after our first love-making session. We never even had a love-making session but I can imagine how great it would have been if our kissing and fondling is any indicator.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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