Making the What? Continued

There I was, flat on my back with one of my best friends easing his fingers into me.  The season finale of Making the Band had just started.  We had waited all this time and now we were just going to miss it.  Oh well.  I would just listen as he kissed my neck and slowly graduated up to two fingers.  Yeah right ... at this point, I could have cared less about what the fuck P Diddy or anyone else had to say.  I had even shut off the voice in my own head.  He was all I could hear, feel, smell or taste.  At some point, we had done away with his pants and I had gotten on top of him.  He sat up, I took him in my hand and I leaned down and lightly kissed him.  I needed more.

We slipped off the couch and onto the floor and he quickly excused himself.  This was routine.  There was no doubt in my mind.  He was going to get a condom.  He returned quickly, got everything into place and parted my legs.  He was big.  Not just like average big, he was big.  He filled me and then some.  I was thrilled by him.  Literally.  I was a little scared that he could hurt me.  I was excited that I knew him and trusted him.  I was comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.  Just then, I realized I had never not wanted this.  I had pushed it into the back of my mind, painted friend across his face, but once I looked past the Sean I had created, it was just him.

He turned me over and entered me from behind.  He felt so good.  After a few moments, I heard it. Oops.  We had lost a condom.  It couldn't withstand the pressure.  He pulled out of me fast and went to get another.  Ope ... if you are the kind of person that enjoys playing really cruel tricks on people, you probably guessed what happened next.  He entered the room without a condom.  That was it ... the last condom from the box lay broken on the bed.

I will spare you all the details of the rest of the night.  Never have I ever been in such a shared frustration.  He contemplated going to the store, asking a neighbor.  It was 3 or 4 am by this time and we were S.O.L.  Time to call it a night, kids.  But, we couldn't.  If he even brushed up against me I got a pain in my stomach.  I still needed more.  At one point, he got up and sat in a chair.  We needed space.  We were both in pain.  This went on for what felt like hours.  We finally fell asleep.  That night had been great and incomplete all at once.  We got all the way through the season of Making the Band and missed the finale.

When we woke in the morning, the voices of reason were back on, at full volume.  We were friends.  The lust had been replaced with exhaustion and so I got up and went home.  After that, it was a little awkward, but we got past it.  We were friends again.  I would occasionally get the urge to finish the job, but, as time went on, Sean and I grew apart and eventually he was just gone.  I moved away and we would chat every once in a while, but years have gone by and I haven't even seen him.  We don't talk at all, anymore.  I don't even know how to get in touch with him.  He's just a series of good memories.  But, sometimes, in the dark of night, as I lay down to go to bed, I close my eyes and Sean and I finish what we started.