Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • We were both so excited to see you; or maybe it was just me who was excited. I was almost ecstatic, overjoyed, elated if you will. This was going to be just like "old times"! It had been a year since we've been in the same room together and I was missing you terribly, my friend. But you've always been more than a friend haven't you?


    We walked into your house, hand in hand; a picturesque married couple if I'd ever seen one. Bright, wide smiles on our faces. She and I both possessed an air of carefree joy that seemed everlasting. It had been 11 days since I walked down the aisle and married her. The scent of cream cheese coated red velvet cake still lingered on my face. The indentations of the metal bars within the torture device that supposedly "enhanced" my natural curves, remained etched in my back. Unfortunately, but yet surprisingly, I was unaware of how quickly those smiles, scents and indentations would begin to fade.

    That night the three of us reminisced about "old times" and laughed the way old friends should. I recall going to our favorite Friday night dinner spot for steaks and margaritas. "Old times" it was. You drove us home, I rode shotgun and she was in the back. I stared at your hands clinching the steering wheel. Eventually I began to stare at your arms, your shoulders, your neck ... I stopped. I had to! It was just like "old times", except this time I'm a married woman. "Stop looking at him", I yelled to myself.''


    My response was not at all like the real old times. If it were I would still be able to express my admiration of you, my amazement, my love, my lust; but I can no longer do those things. I am a married woman, and you are not the love of my life ... she is. Mmmm, but I want to touch you again, ever so slightly; you know, like I used to do; like old times. And just like them, I want to look into your eyes and hang on your every word; watching the movement of your lips, the curves of your mouth, and the flare of your nose when you get turned on by my attentiveness.

    But those were old times and these are new I suppose.


    We arrived safely back to your house to settle in for the night. I can't recall why or how it all transpired, but we were all in the kitchen. I was hugging my wife. You were standing right behind her. I looked into your eyes and a piece of me fell onto your kitchen floor. I was offering myself to you, just like old times, except it wasn't. That was the moment I knew ...
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.