If you could call it that.She heard two cars drive up together. Looking out the window, Kim saw Johnny, weaving slightly, emerge from his car, while a...rather portly middle aged man exited the other, both walking to the door. She opened to Johnny's knock and both men entered.Johnny was tipsy, but antsy as well. He seemed embarrassed."Kim, honey this is Walter, one of the guys I've been playing with." Hello," said Kim as the man smiled a bit too warmly for comfort."Walter here is quite a card. I didn’t want her to enjoy this.When I first thrust myself inside her, after her initial gasp, she started babbling almost uncharacteristically. Asking me questions still, then moving to the sex, asking me if I enjoyed her body, telling me to use her, never shutting up. Eventually, my hand moved back around her throat in a silent order – a silent plea – to remain quiet. Talking made me think. Thinking lessened my haze. And I may have been blaming it, but that didn’t mean I wanted it to go away.. “Well, I guess I understand if you don’t want to think about it. But, can you just answer me one question?”I lightly laughed, raising one eyebrow, “THAT depends on the question...”She gave me a more serious look, “Do you still blame yourself for not being there?”Dammit. Now I was welling up, “It was all my fault!” I said, much too loudly. “I could have declined the mission, I could have left Brad, I could have...”I lost it and tried turning away so she wouldn’t see me bawling.She pulled my head. Yes, mentally there's a big difference to me between making love and just having sex. Sex is for fun and relief whereas making love has more connotations associated with it - at least in my mind. Clinically speaking though, the physical end result of either is the same. "In some ways it is. Mostly mental. Well, perhaps emotionally different would be a better word," I began. After I finished a lengthy and ungodly awkward monologue trying to explain my thoughts as clearly as possible, she then.
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