Mochi & Jeremy

Jeremy said he really liked me and wanted me to stay but I didn’t. I didn’t feel much. I thought he lacked personality and had never been assured. When I decided to leave, he gave me a box and told me to open it. It was 6 pieces of mochi, my favorite Japanese sweet.

“How do you know that I like mochi?” My eyes gazed with wonder.

“Everybody does.”


The night I finally made the decision to stay, we had sex for the first time. It was timid, slow, quite and gentle, like how he treated things around him. There was this one time when he was persuading me to try French melted cheese for the first time, despite my resistance due to the excessive amount of money and fat would have been paid, he would carefully dip the piece of bread in the hot cheese pot, put it in his mouth and let out a small sign of enjoyment. That was pretty much how the orgasm went. Barely any sound.

On the contrary to the audio sequence, he came quite a lot. I had stopped to catch my breath for about a minute already and he was still cumming. “I don’t masturbate,” he said.

“You like to bang a lot of people,” he giggled while slowly sipping on his fruit juice in a rather feminine way. He would say things like that since I asked him to play my “Bang or No Bang” game. That or nothing at all. While I couldn’t wait to break the silence, he seemed to quite enjoy it.

The day we said goodbye, I just stared into the water where we were sitting, and then his eyes, and then the water, back and forth. His eyes were red, a bit, after he told me about how he was still in love with a former lover. And yes, he didn’t bring it up. It was me cracking the history. And that was the most intimate moment that I’d ever got to him, not even when he agreed to let me inside him or gave me morning blow jobs.

His story reminded me of how George still showed up in my dreams usually, sometimes clothed, sometimes naked, sometimes alone and sometimes with somebody new. There was once he was swimming on a flooded field. A minute later, he was already held captive in a training boot camp. It was all different but all ended up the same. I couldn’t manage to save us both.


Maybe it wasn’t Jeremy. Maybe it was me that lacks personality. He is a man of his own principles and ideas, firm ones that couldn’t be shaken in the face of adversity or lust, and he carefully piles them all underneath that softened cover. More mochi?

This entry was published on January 11, 2016 at 6:14 pm. It’s filed under Jeremy and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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