Heartbreaker
He was my first FWB.
Not counting the guy who taught me how to vid sex and started the whole Yolo-ball rolling. That guy who gave the word “Shot” a new meaning.
Butler Guy went Missing in Action, for almost a year. The famous ghosting played well by almost all Koreans and by a few of the younger Asians I’d encountered here in the US.
How do you define ghosting? I wouldn’t count the ones where conversations fade or those who didn’t really start when you knew the second the dating match was made that it wasn’t right. No, those are normal parts of the dating game. Finding the right match was tough. And, after two years of chatting with strangers I’d learnt to hone my radar for losers and non-compatibles.
I still feel bad for telling the guys it wasn’t gonna work. Rejection is hard to do and it was so much easier to disappear. Still, I feel as adults we should try to face the music because we can, and should.
It isn’t helping the other person. It is better to rip the bandaid than to give false hope. And saying this, I am guilty of it too, but I try my best not to schedule a meeting when I wasn’t planning to go or block or delete a person without an explanation because I know how it hurts.
Butler Guy doesn’t speak much and keeps his stress and sorrows to himself. I knew he was having a hard time running his restaurant business. He was young when I first met him.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Why?” he replied in text.
“Because you look really young,” I replied. And super cute with the Korean hair-style, slim built and unlike most Koreans, large almond-shaped brown eyes.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I like you and I think you are very beautiful, that’s all that matters.”
Sweet words. Those K guys were brilliant with them. Knowing how to melt the hearts of all those vulnerable women seeking their dream guy.
Well, I had my dream guy, married and hooked with my kids. H was everything I needed and yet, greed and partly regret got us to Yolo and so here we are.
“Thanks,”I said.
Butler was good. He knew how to keep me coming back for more. He didn’t give me the one thing that I wanted. For the many times we vid play, never once he came.
“Don’t you cum?” I asked after one hour of showing him my orgasms and contorting in all the different sexy positions he wanted. With him, cumming four times and squirting three times was normal. Maybe he was the reason why I was losing weight. All that exercise and moving on the wooden floor was enough home exercise.
“I like you too much. I don’t want to cum. I want to play with you all night,” he said.
Was he for real? Sounded nice when he said that but after the many sessions we had, I wanted that damn cum. Did he forget I have a cum fetish? If there isn’t a completion, I feel incomplete.
“I’m very competitive with sex,” I tell everyone.
It’s true. Even with H, I need to one up him. If he had lost more weight or did ten more sit-ups than I, I needed to do that too. If I knew he was seeing more women than I was that week, I feel I needed to meet more guys too.
Perhaps it was the Asian in me that made me the way I am. Nurture vs. Nature. The never-ending question about why we are the way we are.
And then one day he dropped me.
There was no way to contact him. All the IDs I had were blocked and deleted from his side. For months and days that went by after, I had to pick up the pieces and slowly mend myself back to normal.
Hangovers came when I resorted to reading through our old chats and listening to the voice messages he’d left behind telling what he wanted to do with me. Though he didn’t speak much English then, his orders were clear.
Other guys came and went too but Butler was one of the few who held a spot in my head. As I’d learned some time later, it was called marking. A state of mind resulting from a Pet missing her Master.
The question of why did he do that? Why couldn’t he just tell me he was busy and can’t chat or meet online anymore?
There is a word for it. Recently I heard that more. Perhaps Ghosting wasn’t the right words to use because Korean girls do that too. For the ones whom I tried to befriend, and that was why I felt it was a National country behavior.
Love Bombing.
Yes. Butler broke my lust heart. I was dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Like Busan guy, I thought it was over. Net citizens were not real people as H had constantly said, and I gave that up. But, in my case, my fishes came and went, like the flowing tides, till those salmons need to spawn again and came looking for their mate.
More than six months later…a text appeared in my kakao.
“I miss you,” it said.
“I miss you a lot,” another text appeared.
It was him. Butler was back. And this was the first he said that because he never the miss-you type guy.
“What happened?” I asked. Much as I wanted to be angry with him. “Are you still busy with your work?”
“I sold my restaurant,” he said.
“You did?” I was surprised. I knew his restaurant was doing really well from what he said. Endless foot traffic and close to a college and businesses. Towards the end before we stop chatting, he said he had to hire people to help him.
“I’m taking a break,” he said.
“That’s good. You need it,” I replied. “Are you okay? Healthy?” I asked him. Our conversations were usually peppered with Korean and English.
“I’m good.” His usual response.
“So, what did you miss?” I had to smirk. Might as well get to the bone of the text.
“Hahaha,” he replied. “How are you?”
Why do guys do that? 95% of them would always laugh and then say “How are you?” When they really wanted to say, “Come on, baby, let’s play.”
“I’m good. I miss you a lot too. Give me five minutes!” My anger dissipated. Knowing that he had a hard time (pun intended), I was easy to forgive.
I was in a lingerie in a flash. Picking a super hot red and black corset, black lace stockings, black satin robe — looking like a Victorian courtesan, and my black lace mask.
I called back for a vid chat. The call accepted and instantly I saw him lying on his bed naked with a sheet over his bottom half.
“Hey,” I said, “Wow. You’re naked…”
He laughed. “I am waiting.”
“Yes, you are,” I laughed. “Too bad. I wanted to play strip.”
Yes, it was something we used to do. It got me excited watching the guy take off a piece of his clothing one by one. A sensual act that we took turn to do, him getting quietly more excited and my endless giggling as I shimmered out of my fancy, naughty undergarments.
I did a slow once over with my phone so he could see me head to toe, stepping back to do a fit-check first of my robe and then spinning around and back again.
Slowly, I undo my satin black and red sash, pulling it off and then wrapping it over my wrists and then showing him how tight it was and lifting my arms above my head.
I dropped the sash and held the sides of my robe and let it fall off my shoulders, revealing my smooth white shoulders glimmering under the lamp light above me. It was morning and sunlight escaped through the edges of my dark shades adding extra glow of light.
I was standing there like I was on stage, a stripper performing just for him. Doing a slow dance and touching my corset vest and then turning around to show him the treads of ribbon squeezing my ribs together, adding to my already hour-glass body.
I bent down and he gasped. The black laced T-panty splitting my large ass, the one thin string carving out in equal proportions of my white firm beach balls. I gave a good hard slap. I heard his voice caught as he was stroking his hard cock.
“Do you like that sound?” I asked in my sultry voice.
“Yes. I love it. I love your big ass,” he said. “Turn around.”
I turned.
“Take it off,” he ordered.
Teasingly, I unhooked each metal clasp. Each release pushed my breasts out. One by one, my fleshly melons grew, till the last clasp fell apart and my corset dropped.
“Good,” he said. “Take your dildo and go on the floor.”
I dropped to the ground at the bottom edge of my bed and placed my cell phone against the wardrobe door.
“Sit in a W-shape,” he said, and I did as he told. “Take your dildo. Suck it.”
I licked my dildo and pushed it into my mouth slowly. His hand was moving over his smooth pink dick in a constant motion. I loved it whenever a guy reaches the head and do a circular motion and back down again. Squeezing hard on his rod and then brushing his cock up and down again like he was petting his favorite stick.
I got close to my phone. My face in the screen as I showed him how I licked and sucked that purple toy. In and out of my mouth, the rubber rod thrusting in a slow, followed by hard motion. Faster and faster in rhythm and then pounding against the back of my mouth, my tongue massaging the sides of it.
I gagged and pulled it out suddenly, my saliva came pouring out.
White, foamy liquid dripping in globs, sticky messy onto the ground. I pulled back letting the string of saliva stretched before wiping my lips of the tail end.
I smiled.
Playing with him. Watching him gasped each time I did this and loving every second I spent with him. His smooth, DJ voice, encouraging me to cum more, to squirt more, to make love to him on screen more.
Yes. I missed this. He taught me all. He was here when I began. My first FWB, and now he was back.
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