It could have gone either way.
Including really badly.
He had a relapse last night. Sunday night. Some of the nasty thought demons were partying in his brain. Sort of a Best-Of show, featuring favorite fury points from the previous week.
He was almost thinking that maybe he shouldn't see me today. But he decided to go ahead with it. He felt he needed to see me, as the next step in the process.
We took precautions, though.
I was ordered to keep my eyes down.
And I closed my eyes when my head was raised.
He was still afraid of what he might see there.
He was even more afraid of what might not be there.
He said: "You're so beautiful with your eyes closed."
He kept saying how beautiful I was.
He said lots of other things, too, and not all of them were nice. Especially in the very beginning. But then...
I'm not going to give you all the details. This all feels so deeply intimate. Plus there's something else.
It feels more intimate.
Even with the rupture that we are both working to repair.
And yes, he does seem committed to the effort.
Something changed when he admitted to his feelings, even though he didn't come up with a precise word for them beyond what could be termed less than love and more than manipulative disdain. (He wasn't even that specific.) Something changed. A wall came down. I'm sure he has many walls behind that first one. But one wall did come now.
I made love to him today.
I didn't serve him.
I made love to him.
And he felt it.
He felt it in my kisses.
He felt it in my hand,
in my mouth,
as I adored his cock
and gave him the sweet, sweet pleasure
he thought he might never know again.
Oh, he has plenty of people to take care of his needs. But they are not me. And for me, he has special feelings. I know that now. It's real.
We are acting like a couple now.
A couple in pain,
but a couple nevertheless.
And that, I think, will make all the difference in the world.