My first submission (this one is the second) I wrote about how I got together with Jeff, and this describes the other end of that relationship, with overlap. I guess these writings may turn into a sexual autobiography.
Jeff and I were together, or having sex frequently, I guess is a more accurate label, for about three years total, with starts and stops. We were within a year in age, both early twenties, and we genuinely enjoyed each other physically. We fucked like rabbits, every chance we got.
I was not that experienced, he could not have been either, so our routine now seems in retrospect, well, routine. He was a student at a local college, and still living with his parents; I got a job right out of high school and got out on my own as soon as I could, renting a room in a townhome owned by a divorced lady.
So, we went out on dates plenty, hung out at my place plenty, and then one way or another, we’d start fooling around either on the couch or in my bedroom, and then we’d fuck, and then he’d go home. Sometimes he would spend the night and then we’d fuck again in the morning.