He Waited 8 Years To Have Sex With Me, I Couldn’t Believe What Happened Next

I remember the first time we met, I was just fresh out of high school.

I was a virgin, naïve, not grasping the true meaning of love. He looked at me with fire in his eyes and a passion so intense that I thought to myself, “This must be the love everyone is gushing about”. Naturally, I fell for him, as hard as anyone could fall.

But I was too afraid to give away my innocence, so I didn’t.

And like a lion catching its prey, he was patiently plotting, waiting for when my guard was down to strike.

Even when I was in other relationships, even when I was taken by others, he waited.

I remember the day he came to see me. It was Christmas Eve. He was professing his undying love for me when I told him I was in love with someone else. I remember the light in his eyes immediately went out.

Tears danced around his manly face while he begged me to give him a chance. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I belonged to another man.

Years went by — eight years! I changed, he changed. Having encountered numerous heartbreaks, I chose to lean on the only familiar constant thing in my life: his unending and unfailing love for me.

We got together. We talked and exchanged meaningful conversations. Our interests aligned, our minds connected, our characters alike, our dreams and ambitions fueling each other.

“He is the one,” I thought to myself.

“You are my soulmate,” he said out loud. “I’ve waited for you my whole life.” Literally!

I gave in after a few sweet words, after a few passionate kisses, after a few love bites. My resolve caved. I let his roaming hands unhook my bra and his probing lips find my breasts, and in that moment of weakness, a moment he must have long prayed for, I let him in.

Into my body, into my soul, into the very essence of my being.

He almost drove me to insanity. Our bodies were made for each other, our chemistry was undeniable. And he, as always, remained a perfect gentleman, an attentive and considerate lover, whispering sweet nothings in my ears, painting a beautiful future in my head.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” I wondered. “Why did I fight this for so long?” I pondered.

I had let myself be taken in by my lover’s perfection and the beauty of our love making.

Then it was over!

My body still tingling, my heart still racing, my lips still quivering, my soul still on fire, I told him I wanted him, I needed him as much as he needed me as he smiled and promised he wanted me forever.

I left my lover’s arms, being sad that I had to go, disappointed that he let me go, yet knowing we had no choice. He said he couldn’t wait to love me once again, and I concurred.

Two days passed, nothing! One week followed, still nothing. He must be lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, he must be so sick he couldn’t send a text. Or worse still, he could be dead.

My lover couldn’t have just forgotten about me? We had something special, dare I say magical. Our bond was unbreakable, so he must be somewhere trapped, desperately trying to reach me but failing.

A month passed, and the harsh reality hit me. I was just a conquest! Another plaything to brag about to his friends, another body to add to his body count, another win to fuel his fuckboy ego…

I allowed myself to be beguiled into thinking that he couldn’t possibly wait eight years for “a one-night stand” but that was exactly what I was — a one-night stand.

Only this time it wasn’t with a complete stranger; it was with my “soulmate”.