Ron - This is for You

The first time I met Ron, I was in a Holiday Inn in West Virginia.  We were both visiting, but had met from Craigslist or something.  "Mid-40s, discreet, 5-11, 175, enjoy NSA fun."  His hillbilly twang was cute...not abrasive as some were ... just a country boy who liked to play around a little bit.

It was rather obvious that he smoked, although his clothes didn't smell of it, and his body was well scrubbed.  But still, that tell-tale mouth odor of cigarettes gave him away.  And, even though I am not a smoker myself, the taste of kissing a smoker who has scrubbed and covered his smoke odor is a actually kind of cute.  I would never ask someone to smoke to satisfy my craving, but I won't stop him either. 

He was a great kisser.  For those of you who I have kissed, you know how I kiss, and what I like...he was it.

That first night, we kissed, stripped, sucked, and had a great time naked in bed with each other.  But, we didn't fuck.  I don't remember exactly how long we lasted, but I do know it was later than either of us could afford since we both had to work in the morning. 

A few weeks later, we were going to be close, and we took advantage of it.  This time, we both had more time.  I will admit that I was starting to fall for this guy.  He was so much fun being in bed with.  We planned a little better, had a little snack, some beers, and spent a lot more time talking than before.  But, the sex was still the star of the night.  He advertised as versatile, but he was a bottom. 

As most guys like us, we were very careful about telling our 'real' names, where we worked, lived, etc.  But it wasn't long at all before we knew most everything.  I remember when he told me where he worked.  [He had a high profile job at a national company and truly did have to be careful about anyone finding out about him.]  We were just talking about things in general and he blurted the name of his company out in general conversation, followed by a 'Shit, I just outed myself.'   It didn't matter by then, I was way past being concerned and he was also.  I gave him my driver's license to prove it didn't matter to me.

Like me, he had been married to a woman and finally realized that it was not what he wanted.  And, like me, he had a highly recognizable name in his local town.  The more we got to know each other, the more we realized that our paths had surely crossed before.  But when we met, we were two lost souls, seeking to find love in motel rooms.

I always thought that maybe, just maybe, we could make that step to a relationship where everyone knew, and no one cared; we could quit hiding from everyone, but I never really believed it. 

As our relationship grew, so did our lovemaking.  We had long before moved from having sex to making love.  Our bed in whatever room we were in at the time, was filled with love and caring.  But, I could never get him to spend the night.  We would spend time until the wee hours of the morning, and I would sometimes even doze off, but he would not spend the night.  He told me that he had little left to give the man he would commit himself to, so he would not sleep [literally, sleep] with anyone until he found that man.  My most vivid memory was of him on top of me, riding my dick, head thrown to the wind, shooting all over us both and then holding each other until it was time to leave.

As always seems to happen, our situations changed a bit...he was not traveling to the same areas-got reassigned, and I was not as mobile as I used to be, so we had less chance to see each other.  When we were able, it was still magical, but the opportunity was rarely there.  The last time I talked to him, I was going to be somewhere close to him, but it wasn't working out with his work.  He told me that he had to go to a nearby town for a Dr. visit.  He didn't act like it was a big deal, but something he had to take care of.  He would call.  I made him promise to let me know how it went.  But, I wasn't at all sure he would.  That was last spring.

I hadn't heard from him since then, but last night, I was thinking of him again.  On a whim, I googled his name and his town.  It was with shock that I found his obituary, read about his family, his father, all these things I already knew.  Then read about the service, the burial.  I didn't cry...he would not have wanted that.  But, I do so miss holding him close to me, one last time, kissing his neck, looking into his eyes, and tenderly kissing him.