Everything Special Has A Flaw
'I crossed your heart, husband, now it's time for you to take my name, only your husband's name,' I thought and smiled.
Taehyung and Yoongi bump into each other by chance at an airport lounge. Six months and many meetin...
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6 October 2020
Since the last time we met, our relationship had gone through a few changes. We'd sexted several times. I don't really know how it started. I didn't plan it. Nor did he, I guess.
I remember he'd put up a WhatsApp story of him working out at home. In the video he had posted, he was doing squats. I'd commented on his shapely legs. Honestly, I had been a bit hesitant initially. Complimenting someone on their body is a lame way of telling them: 'I wish I could fuck you.' I didn't want to sound unimaginative. And I didn't want to be 'just another guy' saying 'the obvious thing'. And yet I did message him about his shapely legs.
His response was: Don't tell me you had imagined them. Haha.
I replied: Guilty
He replied: What else are you guilty of?
That was it. Before I knew it we were texting what we wanted to do to each other's privates. I was definitely masturbating while typing. Maybe he was too. Maybe not. He told me his husband was sleeping beside him while he was sexting me. I think it aroused him. The forbidden always arouses the mind and prepares it for guilty pleasures. This wasn't the first time I'd sexted, though.
There were times when I felt horny while Jungkook was in Gwangju and simply watched porn to relieve myself. I even became a premium member of a few adult websites. Then came a time when watching porn and jerking off became monotonous and boring. I wanted more. Maybe something real. But I was also sure I wouldn't do it for real. I loved Jungkook. I was simply not comfortable having sex with someone with whom I didn't have any emotional connection. I had this person working in my company. He was all about sex: his jokes, his experiences, even his philosophies. Every two months he would visit Bangkok where he would book prostitutes for varied sexual escapades and come back and narrate his experience with such elan, as if he had won the presidential election of some country. He always used to try to persuade me to accompany him. But for some reason I never felt comfortable about paying for sexual intimacy. I didn't think it was ethical. Not that I judged him for it. Maybe it made him happy. It sure gave a lot of people employment, which was good. Though I didn't go to Bangkok, I did download a few dating apps, as suggested by him, where I had these sexting experiences. I even met a few men but realized they were completely different in reality. It never went beyond a single meeting, till I met Yoongi at the airport. And the rest was....
The next day, when we spoke on the phone, I thought he would want discuss it. The experience. But he didn't.
I too didn't bring it up. I thought talking about it might make him uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't like to talk about sex. Most of us are like that. We do certain things and then bury them in the deepest corners of our mind. That night we again indulged in sexting. This time he started it by telling me that she was surprised by my cyber prowess; by the way I captured my erotic thoughts in sentences and the GIFs I chose (thanks, Google). The sexting continued till we both climaxed.
