Not sure why I'm writing this, but probably to just get out of my system and potentially commiserate with some like-minded buds out there.

For the past year and a half, I've been having an intense, hot as fuck online relationship with a jo bud in Toronto -- something that got so extreme and personal and intimate that it felt like truly the most open, honest, and free I've ever been with a person, ever. And just as it was inching to something closer, something potentially IRL, he disappeared. Reddit account gone, Snapchat deleted. It fucking hurts so bad, though I guess I am grateful that it ever existed in the first place. Some background, for those interested.

As any curious users can see from my posting history, I've struggled with sexuality issues for what feels like my entire adult life, stretching back to adolescence. I don't think these issues are so foreign to users in this forum: I identify as straight -- I fucking love girls, in lots of shapes, sizes, ethnicities and personalites -- but I have a massive attraction to a nice thick cut cock. God, so bad. This is particularly hard, no pun intended, to deal with given that I've spent most of adult life attached in one form or another. Why can't I admit this to my various partners? FUck it's hard, as many people here know. Maybe I also get off on the secretive nature of it all, as some others here can attest to. Whatever, I'm done psychoanalyzing myself:

I don't want to stop fucking my hot-as-hell wife, nor do I want to stop thinking about jerking and sucking some cock. Is that selfish? Proabbly. Can I live with myself if I either a) never act on those compulsions IRL, or b) if I ever do, make sure safety and discretion is 110%?? This is something that first bonded me to the jo bro I found online here. Well, that and I have some ... let's say ... extreme fantasies that can't be divulged so easily. And it took A LOT of coaxing and careful conversations with this bud to share them. Let's also say that he shared them, too, and then some, and our discussions would get so intense and raw and unfiltered that I thought severla times I was just going to explode from excitement. Fuck. 

Across all this time, even though we didn't live too far from one another, we only met IRL once, at the very beginning of our chats. He just happened to be near my area of the city, and I happened to have my place free. But I was so fucking nervous we just wlaked around the bloick a few times, and he understood my reticence in letting him in. I look back on that moment with both profound frustration -- god, we were so close! -- but also something resembling a welcome turning point. If we had actually done something that day, it could have gone like so many of my quick IRL experiences: hot for a moment, too nervous, anxiety-ridden, followed by extreme post-nut clarity that resulted in ghosting on either side. But partly because we didn't do anything physical, we were able to continue to develop the conversation online, and only online. 

We shared sides of ourselves I don't think I would have ever revealed to ANYONE. We were egging each other on to reveal ourselves, our desires, our secrets, our hopes. Despite professing the fact that I also had no interest in really anything about a guy other than his cock, I began to fantasize about his body, all of it. I got hard at just pics of his chest. I imagined kissing him deeply. I imagined ploughing my cock into his ass, and his into mine. I felt like giving the entirety of myself to him, about just booking a hotel room for the weekend and exhausting ourselves, lost in a daze of cum and forbidden thoughts. And I felt we were so fucking close.

And now, nothing. It's been silence for months now, I've stopped counting. I've also tried to stop checking the apps we would use solely for that purpose of connection. Once or twice, but he's never there.

Maybe he's gone for good -- there were periods of time when he would drop off for a few weeks, a month. Same with me. Life would get busy. I'd get paranoid. I'd decide that maybe pussy was enough for me. But I always came back. And pun intended. He hasn't yet. Maybe never will. Maybe he's reading this? Maybe you are, and are searching for something similar. I'm interested, I'm curious, I need the connection again. Even if I know what we had will never be fully replicated. And now I'm going to cum thinking about him.