The Unattainable Man

We'd met at work. His is not a physical perfection. A bit thin, a bit hairy, not quite tall enough, a voice a bit too deep to match his boyish face. The coloring of eyes and hair is shades of chestnut. The eyes are big and wide-set, and sometimes he seemed a bit startled and fragile. The lids sometimes would droop low in a languid sensuality as he puffed on electronic cigarettes. He is so young, nearing the mid-twenties. I am nearing my mid thirties, a mother. He will never be mine, he is not husband material, but I can't stop wanting him.

He does not want me as I want him. Perhaps he would if I was younger, thinner, unmarried, but I am not in his orbit. I accept that, yet a string of desire keeps me in a daze around him. I can pour my soul to him, and he lets me make a fool of myself in silence. He is not the lover I want him to be. He does not reject me, but listens to my flight of ideas without judgment. He is flirtatious, as he is with many women. I cannot trust my feelings, but cannot deny them. We share ice cream on our breaks at a nearby shop; sometimes, I buy his ice cream and sometimes he buys mine.

Today, he unexpectedly sees me making the long walk to the offices. "Get in." he commands, as he pulls up in his clunker of a vehicle. I give simple responses to his few questions. Together, we sit at an empty meeting table across from each other.

He begins to flirt and I flirt back. He begins to lift up his shirt, and his body is chiseled and hairy. My eyes dip downward, as his pants are worn low. His hips are not hidden, thin and lithe and hairy. He may as well be naked, for I am imagining the pants have disappeared. How raw this is for me, how cruel to be teased with what I can't have. And, is this cheating?

He breaks the connection by rising from the chair. I almost cry out in loss. Then, he is touching my neck, kissing me. "What about the door?" He must lock the office door. As the door is locked, inhibitions fall away. I don't want to undress too much, in case someone should interrupt. We should have an hour at least.

I am free to touch him as I've longed to do for months. If I had known how sexy his body is naked, I would have been even more sex crazed. He is a drug and this is the full dose. I want him to lie on the table, I need the cowgirl position. I had wondered about his penis, but it doesn't disappoint. It smells like him and on his testicles is the same chestnut hair, only darker and coarser. I want to take this part of him, his cock, in my mouth, as he is not fully hard enough. He shudders as I lower my lips onto him. I had never been with an uncircumcised man; his foreskin smells delicious and I gently apply suction and swirl my tongue in circles on this foreign body part. He shakes wildly in physical shudders. The table is not in the least comfortable, but we are beyond comfort. He wordlessly motions that I must stop; I think I did taste pre-cum and I understand. He wants to please me now.

His hand lingers on my pussy, gently spreading the lips there. I don't care about skill, because my desired for this man burns so hot, but he is gentle, and he gently enters me with two fingers. I blush at how wet I am; there is no hiding now. I don't want his fingers, though. I want to have sex now.

So close to this fulfillment, but he shakes his head before our bodies unite. He cannot do this with me. Shattered and empty, I sit on the floor, sobbing. He must have gone; I did not look up to see. Later, I learn he has quit and had planned on quitting for a month without telling me. He does not love me. I am delusional. Did anything really happen at all or was it a dream? He did come back to the office, months later, and we talked. I could feel the fire dancing. But, he will not come to me again. He is a delicious vapor, lost in memory.