On to the Ex One?

So, sista's got this complex situation:

My ex (let's call her Coco) and I can't seem to stay away from each other. (I'm warning you here; After the back story, things get very explicit.)

Now, we haven't actually been girlfriend-and-girlfriend since December, but, for a while there, we were trying to work things out. Sadly, we couldn't figure out how to fix things. We both love each other a lot, still, but when two people want two very different things in their immediate futures, it's usually time to let it go, at least for a while.

For instance: (1) She wants to get married. Now, I'm not a cheater, but I'm not through looking and flirting, yet. I don't have a fear of commitment at all, but I know I'm just not ready. (2) She's helping to raise her little brother, and she wants kids. I do not. I'm surrounded by hundreds of little ones everyday, all day, with my work, and I love the fact that, at the end of the day, we can give them back. (3) She's not much older than me, but experience-wise, there might as well be a decade between us. I need time to live my life - hell, to finish learning how to live life - before I settle down. I keep telling her that I know I'm not anywhere close to being the best partner I can be right now. Somebody wiser than me once said to believe someone when they tell you who they are. Why does she continue to refuse to believe me? She wants what she wants, I know. And I would love nothing more than to give it to her, but I can't.
So I did what I had to do for the both of us because she's a great woman, and I don't want to stand in her way of finding someone equally as deserving of her who is ready to build a life with her . I broke up with her, initially, and it didn't go smoothly. She cried. She cursed. I tried to console her, to explain myself. She pushed me away. Hard.

Now, I am a sucker for crying women, and I'm a sucker for Coco. The girl is smart as hell, funny, witty, sexy, cultured, paid, cute as she wanna be, and has an adorable accent and body to die for. Plus, as I said before, we love each other. And to be blunt: That girl can fuck.

I'm more than formidable as a lover, but I gladly concede and admit defeat and exhaustion to Coco. I get turned on just looking at her, with those Teyana Taylor lips and that big ass smile, because I know what she can do with her body and what she can do with mine. Those aren't feelings that go away just because we've broken up, especially when it really wasn't anybody's "fault."

So me being the idiot that I am, I figured maybe we can work it out. I agreed to speed up if she'd agree to slow down, hoping we'd meet somewhere in the middle of a wonderful compromise. We tried this twice. Each time, she kept wanting to speed up again. So I broke things off for good. Then we, being the the idiots we are, agreed to try the friend thing, which I think we knew was code for "I'm just not ready to give up sex with you, yet."

The problem with us being friends with benefits was this: We weren't capable of leaving the emotion out of our sex. So the more we did it, the more we start wanting to be together again, knowing we shouldn't go back down that road.

Trying to be friends wasn't going to work for us; there's too much attraction there. That brings us to the current state of our relationship, or lack thereof: the fuck buddy state.

We don't talk on the phone. We don't text unless it's about hooking up. We don't go out. We don't hang out. She tells me that she needs it; I go give it to her. Not the most respectable thing I could be doing with my personal life, I know, but, damn...Coco is just that good. And were just that much better together.

So, I get a text around 2:30 this morning. Whatchu doing?

We all know what that means, and I don't play no games, so I hit her back with the obvious. Hopefully you. What's up?

I wanna come see you. 30 min?

Bet.

I hop in the shower, don't bother with cologne or perfume. Just a little body spray. I get comfortable in my black wifebeater, bra, black trunk briefs, and baggy cargo khakis, and wait for her. Sure enough, right before 3, I hear Coco's car pull up in the driveway. I go to the door and watch her swagger up the walkway and onto the porch in her tight white tee and black basketball shorts. We greet each other with a hug, and she feels so good, smells so good, that the way I squeeze her leaves nothing to the imagine as far as my desires and intentions go. I bury my face in her neck, kiss her pulse one time, run my hands from her silky black hair (which she's got up in a bun just the way I like it) to her hips, and guide her inside, not wanting the mosquitoes to bite her before I do.
We head straight for the bedroom. I let her in walk in front of me so I can press myself up her round ass. I'm squeezing her thighs now, and she moans and puts her head back, exposing the expanse of her neck to my lips. We fall onto the bed this way, spooning, me grinding against her. Coco reaches back to grab the back of neck with one and tugs my pants down lower on my hips with the other, sneaking it around to feel me up. I take my wifebeater off to get closer, she's touching me everywhere, and I'm already super aroused at this point.

I flip us over so that I'm on my back and she's in my lap, my breasts against her back. She sits up and pulls her shirt off. I take her bra off and tug at her shorts until she wriggles out of them. She's not wearing any underwear. I tug my pants down my hips a little more so I feel her better, and let Coco have her way with me. She's got her hands on my thighs for stability and doesn't need me to guide her hips, so I occupy my hands elsewhere, squeezing her breasts, running down her abs, massaging her clit. I kiss her back, her shoulders, her neck, admire the way her muscles work under soft, honey tanned skin. Her hips speed up, and I can tell she's about to come from the sounds she makes and the way she moves. Hell, I could come just from watching her, much less feeling her work her magic. So I stop her, move her off my lap to sit between my legs, then strap up and lube up. I don't even bother taking my pants and trunks off; I just pull them down. There's no time to waste.

We don't need to talk to communicate. She lays on her back without me having to say a word, spreading long, toned legs wide and looking into my eyes. She's dripping at this point, so it takes me no time at all to make myself comfortable between her thighs - one of my favorite places in the world to be. People may find the missionary position outdated, but I do some of my best work this way, taking my sweet time with her arms tight around my neck and her legs loose around my waist. We could change positions, but neither one of us wants to interrupt our groove. Plus, I like the sounds the bed makes when I fuck her this way. I push my hands into the mattress to get a little more leverage when I can tell she's getting close again, stroking a little harder and much faster. She's clinging to my shoulders, I can't seem to stop kissing her, and it doesn't take long for either one of us. It takes all of my willpower to make sure she gets hers first.

When I come, she hugs me to her and strokes my hair. I am trembling. Our hips keep moving, rocking lightly until we've almost dozed off. I'm still feeling aftershocks, and I can feel the fluttering in her chest. Coco lets out a little purr of contentment, and it turns me the fuck on. I turn us over again, and she starts to ride me. I moan with every roll of her hips, and I try to suppress them, but it just doesn't work. I'm at her mercy, and I don't care anymore.

We only stop when the 6 o'clock alarm on my phone goes off, popping our little bubble. I'm love-drunk; she's exhausted.

I guess this is the part where fuck buddies are supposed to get up and go home, but Coco deserves better than that, so we cuddle up and wait for the rest of the world to catch up. I watch some Cosby Show on YT; she burrows into my chest and finally gets about an hour of rest. When she wakes up, I greet her with a kiss and, again, I can't seem to stop. When I finally let her up for air, she goes to shower, and I get on Twitter, then cook us some breakfast. It's about that time, but it doesn't seem like Coco really wants to leave, and I'm a little sad to see her go.

The point? Clearly, our bodies know something we don't. I've only slept with one other girl since we split (but that's another post altogether.) How can I move on when I'm afraid that I'll never have this kind of connection with another girl? Should I just give in and hope for the best? I don't want to be selfish, but I don't want her to be the one that got away, either. Whatever we end up being to each other, I just want it to work. Maybe later. Maybe next lifetime.