Several years ago I had a pet. Over the course of a couple of years we had some intense sexual encounters and explored some kinks. The relationship was sexual and definitely not romantic. We met we fucked, sometimes during a rest break we shared food. When he was working away (he was a FIFO ) we texted most days. The connection between us was strong. But then one day he disappeared. He was evasive and when I asked directly he told me it was time to move on. There was no explanation. And I didn’t ask. In my mind I didn’t have the right to ask. We were fuck buddies not dating. Neither owed the other anything.
That is not to say that it didn’t hurt. He left a gap in my life. One that was never filled. Most of the time it wasn’t a problem but sometimes I found myself thinking about our adventures and wishing they hadn’t ended.
Then last Saturday, randomly, I ran into him at the swingers club that Mr Jones and I visit from time to time. It was one of those nights when all sorts of people were popping out of corners and things were a little chaotic. I was chatting to a lady who was sitting nervously in the corner. She was explaining that her new-ish boyfriend had brought her along to check things out. Then there he was. I didn’t know where to look or what to say. We said hi. He kind of explained how he knew us to his new girl and then I ran away. I didn’t know what to say.
It took time to process the encounter. About 24 hours afterward I realised that it hurt my heart seeing him again. I guess I wasn’t as detached as I thought.
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