I've gotten a lot of emails asking about my own romantic life...my own sexcapades if you will. Well, one moment in time came to me and I thought I'd share it with you. Enjoy. -MR-
Here's the deal...I am a military wife. I spend more time on my own than I do looking at my husband's face, but I would spend twenty years for fifteen minutes with the right man rather than wait fifteen minutes for twenty years with the wrong one. The truth is, is that sex with my husband, PJ, is fantastic. He knows how to play my body like a finely tuned instrument. He knows when to touch, where to touch, how much is perfect and more. I love married sex. I trust my husband to take care of my needs, to push me and meet me over the abyss and come back to reality safely in his arms. My grandmother always said married sex was worth waiting for and now I know why. Ten years of marriage and even through the fights, the tears, the bills, kids, car payments and more our sex life is still part of the glue that holds us together. It is our reaffirmation of the commitment to our life together. When words just aren't good enough I take him to our bedroom, undress him, and make love to him. All wives know what I mean, but this is about a moment in time that happened nine years ago.
A true sex story from my life with PJ, hope he doesn't shoot me for telling everyone about our sex, but at least he gets his own story with him cast in the starring role.
It was September 11, 2001. The towers had fallen. We were living on Naval Air Station Lemoore, California. It was hot, dusty, but perfect for aviation crews. Almost 364 guaranteed days of flight time. It barely rained, it was hardly ever cold, and God help you if the air conditioner broke. You could sweat ten pounds off in the morning by just sitting there.
Anyway, the call had come in, you know, THE CALL. "Pack your bags, man, we gotta go." I went up to our bedroom and was standing in the walk in closet trying not to cry. I decided that for me, the only way to survive, would be to stay busy. So I was putting clothes away and Pj walked in, "Hey baby, it's okay."
"No, it's not, but it is." I said, "I understand. It's just your job." He put his arms around me and I began to cry. Pj did what only Pj could do, he began to kiss me, kissing my tears as they fell, my mouth when I looked up at him. I began clawing at his clothes. I knew we only had a matter of hours before he was leaving and it was like I needed to be close to him, I needed one last touch, taste to imprint it in my memory for the duration of his absence. Pj gave me what I needed.
He pulled me to the floor in the bedroom closet and stretched his long six foot one frame over my short five feet four inch body and ripped my shirt away from my body and grabbed my shorts off my hips and flung them over his shoulder. I was naked on the carpet in that small walk in closet and he pushed his clothes off and kicked them aside and came to me gloriously naked, hard, and in need of me as much as I needed him. He kissed me everywhere. It's Pj that leaves love bites and bruises during lovemaking. It always happens before he leaves. It's like I need those reminders that he is real, that he was there with me, and I love them. Normally, I'm a slow and gentle kind of girl but when he gets ready to leave and his dog tags are jangling against one another as he packs...all I can think about is more, harder, faster, NOW. I need him always. I want him forever. I don't know that I would ever be able to deny Pj. I don't know that I would ever care to try. It's me, during lovemaking that leaves scratches and blood with my nails, clinging to him. It's me that cries because having him within me, loving me, making the rest of the world fade away is exactly what I need.
So that day on the closet floor with rug burns marking my back and my ass I took Pj and he rode me and it was that day that I had my first climax on my back, 'cause truth be told, I'm an on top kinda girl. But it was like Pj wasn't taking no for an answer. Every once in awhile he refuses to let me be on top, almost like a primitive, "I must remind you that I'm all that is man" kind of way. But this day, I wanted him over top of me. I wanted to look up at him, I wanted him to see me this way, open and in need of his love, his sex. And let me tell you...his body is delicous. Solid, sinewy, large. He has this golden toned skin with a light dusting of hair on his forearms and legs. He always smells so damn good and his calloused roughened hands feel so perfect when he touches me. Afterwards, we laid there breathing hard, our heart rates slowing down and the sweat drying on our bodies, he kissed me and we rose together and took a last shower together and I sat with him while he packed.
PJ's body is even better at this stage of our marriage as he's filled out in that way that only men can. Thicker neck, broader shoulders, you know what I mean. Now, I'm shameless and I would tell you the size, shape, and contours of my husband's beautiful cock, for story purposes not bragging, (LOL) but I'm sure he'd die and demand a rewrite. But I will tell you that he is perfect. I love the size and shape of him, I love his masculine scent. I could just close my eyes during this particular deployment and imagine his scent, the way he looked. It was what sustained me through that particular deployment. And while he's in the field currently, I miss him terribly. And I appreciate the requests for a true story. That one took me back.
Much Love-
MR
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
New Year's Eve
It was New Year's Eve and I was sitting at the house of a family for whom I babysat. Their oldest son, Jake, is a few years older than I am and is, at this point in my life, the best looking, sexiest, most desirable man I've ever had a crush on. I'd been invited over as a thank you for all the babysitting for Jake's younger brothers and with not much else going on for an eighteen year old girl, I went.
I didn't expect to see six feet of hotness standing in the kitchen laughing with his folks when I walked in. Jake always had a way of making my breath catch and I wanted to just wrap myself around him and breathe him in. He was standing there with his hip against the counter talking to his dad, who was checking on food in a crockpot. He was so delicious. Standing there in a pair of faded jeans and a black, long sleeved shirt and a hat turned backwards. He was the embodiment of casually cool. Thank God his parents didn't know that I lusted over their oldest child or they may never have let me back in that house for fear that their twenty-three year old's innocence would have been obliterated.
I walked in wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top with a sweatshirt over it and I loved this family. I couldn't have loved them all more than if I'd been born into it. Loving and filled with laughter and always had a hug available if you needed one. Jake's dad came up with arms wide open and wrapped me in a big bear hug and handed me a drink. No, this isn't a story where I got drunk and he took advantage of me, I've never been much of a drinker. No, this is a story about me finally getting what I wanted. Jake's attention. And oh yes, I got it.
I took my drink and walked outside to watch snow fall and other guests dance to Tom Petty songs. I stood there sipping the wine quietly, trying to be cool when my nerves started dancing, instantly I knew. I knew he was there behind me. The tree just to the left of his driveway obscured the view from the house but he was leaning against it, waiting on me to acknowledge his presence. When I turned to look at him I didn't feign surprise or play coy, I just asked him what it was he needed. He was always polite and well mannered when he came home early and I was there with his brothers...sometimes, if I was lucky, he'd stay in with us rather than go out and I would get to fantasize about him all night with him right there. If Jake ever knew that I envisioned him naked more than dressed while he sat in the chair in the living room, he never let on, but if he did know, he'd probably think I was insane. Jake answered my question in this slow kind of sexy way, "Thought I'd come check on you." he smiled.
"Yeah?" I replied, "Why?"
"It's cold, hon" he answered.
"Yeah it is freezing, but your dad is going to light fireworks soon and I don't want to miss them."
"If you don't want to miss them, just go into the barn, up in the hay mow and sit there in the window, I'll bring a blanket and hot chocolate. You'll be warm and see fireworks." He replied.
OH MY GOD! Jake and a blanket, frolicking in the hay?! Dreams do come true! My head started to spin but I wasn't ready to lose my cool, so when his head cocked to the right waiting on my answer I smiled and said, "Thanks, that'd be great." I walked as slowly as I could, so it wouldn't look like I was dying to get into that barn. I pushed open the great big door and the sweet smell of hay permeated the air like a sweet perfume. I started my climb upwards into the hay mow to wait for Jake...and let me tell you, I'm scared of heights, but this is just one of those things I was willing to do to be with Jake. I might have risked death at eighteen, who knows?
I got up there and moved eight hay bales over by the window...I used four to make the basis of a couch and propped two up on top of them to use for the back of the couch and the last two were used for support in case the back slid off. When he got up there, he was surprised at how much I'd accomplished and I told him if I were going to be warm and drink hot chocolate while viewing fireworks, I was going to be comfortable too. He just laughed at me and helped finish up. Together we spread a blanket on the hay bales and sat down and then unwrapped and spread the top blanket. His dad gave a yell and we knew we were about to start the excitement and in moments the first fireworks shot through the sky and exploded with pinks and purples and golds. It was so lovely, like a romantic Fourth of July but with snow and hot chocolate.
When his dad took a break to set up more fireworks I laid back against the bales and felt Jake's arm around my waist and I leaned into his shoulder. It was a perfect moment that didn't need to be orchestrated. My first time with a man was unrehearsed and natural and I couldn't have asked for more from him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine and his breath tasted like chocolate as I opened my mouth for his tongue to slide in and caress mine. Jake, Jake, Jake...what you do to me...I sighed into his mouth and reached for his hat and threw it across the floor of the barn and felt myself glide backwards and lay down on those bales. His large hands slid my sweatshirt off and pulled my tank top up and over my breasts. He sat there for a second taking in my half naked body and I reached for his hands, pulling them to my nipples, I moaned and wiggled underneath him and he leaned forward, pulling them into his mouth and watching them grow hard.
The growl low in the back of his throat was what I would come to learn as his signal that he wanted more from me than some heavy petting in his dad's barn. I undid my belt, my button, and my zipper while he pulled my pants off and tossed them to the floor. I laid across those hay bales in a black tank top and pink panties with socks on my feet. Jake stood up and pulled that sweatshirt off and kicked his jeans to the floor. We were equally undone. His boxer briefs hugged his lean form and outlined the proof of his desire. He murmured in my ear, his breath hit my neck, his mouth and hands were everywhere and I couldn't get close enough to him. It was all I could do to let him lead. He'd been cast in the starring role of my fantasies, since I was fifteen and I had waited impatiently for him to realize it was me that he wanted. I pulled my legs around him and he pushed the wispy fabric of my panties to the side and began the descent to madness. I arched into him and he slid deep into me and for a second our eyes met and a shared knowing passed between us. He plunged into me again and again and I just wanted more. I wanted it to never end. With fireworks sparkling the New Year's Eve sky I was giving my virginity to a man that I wanted more than my next breath. He reached down and stroked me while the rhythm of sex was making my world fade to black and then....well, then...stars exploded in my eyes and I came. My muscles contracting and squeezing were more than he could bear and he begin to slide deeply and sweetly over and over and over until his hands reached into my hair and our foreheads touched and he said, "Tell me to come, baby." I reached up and my nails pierced the skin on his shoulders and with everything in me I said, "Jake, come for me baby."
I didn't expect to see six feet of hotness standing in the kitchen laughing with his folks when I walked in. Jake always had a way of making my breath catch and I wanted to just wrap myself around him and breathe him in. He was standing there with his hip against the counter talking to his dad, who was checking on food in a crockpot. He was so delicious. Standing there in a pair of faded jeans and a black, long sleeved shirt and a hat turned backwards. He was the embodiment of casually cool. Thank God his parents didn't know that I lusted over their oldest child or they may never have let me back in that house for fear that their twenty-three year old's innocence would have been obliterated.
I walked in wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top with a sweatshirt over it and I loved this family. I couldn't have loved them all more than if I'd been born into it. Loving and filled with laughter and always had a hug available if you needed one. Jake's dad came up with arms wide open and wrapped me in a big bear hug and handed me a drink. No, this isn't a story where I got drunk and he took advantage of me, I've never been much of a drinker. No, this is a story about me finally getting what I wanted. Jake's attention. And oh yes, I got it.
I took my drink and walked outside to watch snow fall and other guests dance to Tom Petty songs. I stood there sipping the wine quietly, trying to be cool when my nerves started dancing, instantly I knew. I knew he was there behind me. The tree just to the left of his driveway obscured the view from the house but he was leaning against it, waiting on me to acknowledge his presence. When I turned to look at him I didn't feign surprise or play coy, I just asked him what it was he needed. He was always polite and well mannered when he came home early and I was there with his brothers...sometimes, if I was lucky, he'd stay in with us rather than go out and I would get to fantasize about him all night with him right there. If Jake ever knew that I envisioned him naked more than dressed while he sat in the chair in the living room, he never let on, but if he did know, he'd probably think I was insane. Jake answered my question in this slow kind of sexy way, "Thought I'd come check on you." he smiled.
"Yeah?" I replied, "Why?"
"It's cold, hon" he answered.
"Yeah it is freezing, but your dad is going to light fireworks soon and I don't want to miss them."
"If you don't want to miss them, just go into the barn, up in the hay mow and sit there in the window, I'll bring a blanket and hot chocolate. You'll be warm and see fireworks." He replied.
OH MY GOD! Jake and a blanket, frolicking in the hay?! Dreams do come true! My head started to spin but I wasn't ready to lose my cool, so when his head cocked to the right waiting on my answer I smiled and said, "Thanks, that'd be great." I walked as slowly as I could, so it wouldn't look like I was dying to get into that barn. I pushed open the great big door and the sweet smell of hay permeated the air like a sweet perfume. I started my climb upwards into the hay mow to wait for Jake...and let me tell you, I'm scared of heights, but this is just one of those things I was willing to do to be with Jake. I might have risked death at eighteen, who knows?
I got up there and moved eight hay bales over by the window...I used four to make the basis of a couch and propped two up on top of them to use for the back of the couch and the last two were used for support in case the back slid off. When he got up there, he was surprised at how much I'd accomplished and I told him if I were going to be warm and drink hot chocolate while viewing fireworks, I was going to be comfortable too. He just laughed at me and helped finish up. Together we spread a blanket on the hay bales and sat down and then unwrapped and spread the top blanket. His dad gave a yell and we knew we were about to start the excitement and in moments the first fireworks shot through the sky and exploded with pinks and purples and golds. It was so lovely, like a romantic Fourth of July but with snow and hot chocolate.
When his dad took a break to set up more fireworks I laid back against the bales and felt Jake's arm around my waist and I leaned into his shoulder. It was a perfect moment that didn't need to be orchestrated. My first time with a man was unrehearsed and natural and I couldn't have asked for more from him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine and his breath tasted like chocolate as I opened my mouth for his tongue to slide in and caress mine. Jake, Jake, Jake...what you do to me...I sighed into his mouth and reached for his hat and threw it across the floor of the barn and felt myself glide backwards and lay down on those bales. His large hands slid my sweatshirt off and pulled my tank top up and over my breasts. He sat there for a second taking in my half naked body and I reached for his hands, pulling them to my nipples, I moaned and wiggled underneath him and he leaned forward, pulling them into his mouth and watching them grow hard.
The growl low in the back of his throat was what I would come to learn as his signal that he wanted more from me than some heavy petting in his dad's barn. I undid my belt, my button, and my zipper while he pulled my pants off and tossed them to the floor. I laid across those hay bales in a black tank top and pink panties with socks on my feet. Jake stood up and pulled that sweatshirt off and kicked his jeans to the floor. We were equally undone. His boxer briefs hugged his lean form and outlined the proof of his desire. He murmured in my ear, his breath hit my neck, his mouth and hands were everywhere and I couldn't get close enough to him. It was all I could do to let him lead. He'd been cast in the starring role of my fantasies, since I was fifteen and I had waited impatiently for him to realize it was me that he wanted. I pulled my legs around him and he pushed the wispy fabric of my panties to the side and began the descent to madness. I arched into him and he slid deep into me and for a second our eyes met and a shared knowing passed between us. He plunged into me again and again and I just wanted more. I wanted it to never end. With fireworks sparkling the New Year's Eve sky I was giving my virginity to a man that I wanted more than my next breath. He reached down and stroked me while the rhythm of sex was making my world fade to black and then....well, then...stars exploded in my eyes and I came. My muscles contracting and squeezing were more than he could bear and he begin to slide deeply and sweetly over and over and over until his hands reached into my hair and our foreheads touched and he said, "Tell me to come, baby." I reached up and my nails pierced the skin on his shoulders and with everything in me I said, "Jake, come for me baby."
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sex on Fire
There was a night at three a.m. when a man had driven sixteen hours to be with me. To see my smile, to give me anything I desired. He had come in from Texas on a business trip. I had known him, it seemed, all my life and while we were friends we weren't anything more. His life was his own. Unmarried, unfettered, and completely free. He came to my house with nothing more than a toothbrush and a smile...and said, "I'm here, I made it." I swept my front door wide open and watched him walk through. I had made him dinner, something to drink, and we discarded that preferring to become drunk on one another and what we had to offer.
The witching hour. Three a.m. is when all things most interesting occurr in my life. When I howl at the moon, scream in pleasure, rage in fury, demand more, question it all. But this night I was content to let a man who had driven sixteen hours to see me pour warm lotion on my back and rub it in with a tenderness that belied his tired expression. I expected him to want to fuck and go to bed. But he was interested in seeing a fantasy come to life. Those are my favorite kind of men.
He had told me that he had this fantasy about red lipstick and the wet looking lipgloss. So I had carefully applied the lip liner, lipstick, & gloss. He knew I was willing and I knew he was ready. I stood in front of him and undressed him. He was the first man I had ever undressed from top to bottom and all I wanted to do was leave these lipstick prints all over his sexy body. He turned me on and inside out and he was always interested in my pleasure. Something about a much older man...they figured it out...if she comes, she'll make sure I come. Hmmm...? Too bad younger guys don't have that figured out...it'd make cougars out of us all, eh? Anyway, I had him undressed and he didn't have a problem asking me to do anything...he'd tie me up, tell me dirty things, call me from work just to hear my breath catch if it was him on the phone. So this night of all the nights when he'd just shown me how much he wanted me it was my turn to make his fantasy come to life....or rather one of his fantasies. So I pulled him to the bed, ordered him on his back, straddled him, so he could feel how wet I was, how much I wanted him. And I began kissing his bottom lip, so decadent, so luscious, so damn sexy I could have stayed right there and sucked his lip while I had my orgasm, but this is about him. So I began leaving red lip prints down his body to his cock and wrapped my lips around him. I took and gave all night long. He moaned and dug his fingers in my hair, talked to me throughout telling me how amazing I am, how much he loved it, how good it felt. That's erotic right there....a man who is unafraid to say, "Take me. Make me yours, baby." and wise enough to encourage you further by appreciating it in that unabashed way that truly sexy men do.
The funny thing is that I'm a closet case....I'm a closet submissive. I'd do anything to turn my man on...I'd do anything to turn him inside out and upside down...Baby I got what it takes to work you out...all you have to do is ask...I promise. With women, I'm dominant, aggressive, but with a man I want to be his. I want to be marked, claimed, dragged by my hair to his cave, so when he dug his fingers into my hair all I could think was, "Baby I got something so fine for you, you'll beg me for it." I slid my red painted lips up and down his cock watching the ring of lipstick around it grow and stretch with further proof of his arousal and I moaned on the head of his cock as doing this stoked my arousal to fever pitch. All night long I used my mouth on him, taking him to the edge and holding him there until he broke and began to beg for his release, "Please, baby, please I can't take anymore, let me come." His soft words did more to encourage my generosity at that moment than any normal command would have been able to do.
When I was done and the sweat was drying, he looked over at me and kissed my shoulder. He thanked me. HE THANKED ME. How hot is that?! When's the last time a man said thank you for anything. He told me that the entire trip he'd been on fire for me and couldn't wait to see what tonight would bring and his hand dragged up my thigh, scraping his nails lightly on my skin. My hips reached for his fingertips as if they'd had their own mind and I was like "oh fuck." I wasn't ready to be undone. I wasn't ready to show him the proof of my orgasm. He was like my drug and I swear to the Goddess, herself...he was stronger than me. He knew it. I knew it. He didn't stop and my pride fell to the side as my body went up in flames while he took his sweet time pushing me over the edge of the abyss. I begged and pleaded and cried for my release and he enjoyed teasing me. He was merciless and when I finally arched into his body he swooped in and slid all the way deep inside me and he had the nerve to ask, "Is that what you needed, baby?" But the fucking truth is that yes, it is what I needed. At that moment in time, I needed his cock inside me, I needed the fulfillment of that moment, of the climax that we would share. That knowing he would come and I would come and that we would lay spent, wet, and our fires never extinguished for the other.
The witching hour. Three a.m. is when all things most interesting occurr in my life. When I howl at the moon, scream in pleasure, rage in fury, demand more, question it all. But this night I was content to let a man who had driven sixteen hours to see me pour warm lotion on my back and rub it in with a tenderness that belied his tired expression. I expected him to want to fuck and go to bed. But he was interested in seeing a fantasy come to life. Those are my favorite kind of men.
He had told me that he had this fantasy about red lipstick and the wet looking lipgloss. So I had carefully applied the lip liner, lipstick, & gloss. He knew I was willing and I knew he was ready. I stood in front of him and undressed him. He was the first man I had ever undressed from top to bottom and all I wanted to do was leave these lipstick prints all over his sexy body. He turned me on and inside out and he was always interested in my pleasure. Something about a much older man...they figured it out...if she comes, she'll make sure I come. Hmmm...? Too bad younger guys don't have that figured out...it'd make cougars out of us all, eh? Anyway, I had him undressed and he didn't have a problem asking me to do anything...he'd tie me up, tell me dirty things, call me from work just to hear my breath catch if it was him on the phone. So this night of all the nights when he'd just shown me how much he wanted me it was my turn to make his fantasy come to life....or rather one of his fantasies. So I pulled him to the bed, ordered him on his back, straddled him, so he could feel how wet I was, how much I wanted him. And I began kissing his bottom lip, so decadent, so luscious, so damn sexy I could have stayed right there and sucked his lip while I had my orgasm, but this is about him. So I began leaving red lip prints down his body to his cock and wrapped my lips around him. I took and gave all night long. He moaned and dug his fingers in my hair, talked to me throughout telling me how amazing I am, how much he loved it, how good it felt. That's erotic right there....a man who is unafraid to say, "Take me. Make me yours, baby." and wise enough to encourage you further by appreciating it in that unabashed way that truly sexy men do.
The funny thing is that I'm a closet case....I'm a closet submissive. I'd do anything to turn my man on...I'd do anything to turn him inside out and upside down...Baby I got what it takes to work you out...all you have to do is ask...I promise. With women, I'm dominant, aggressive, but with a man I want to be his. I want to be marked, claimed, dragged by my hair to his cave, so when he dug his fingers into my hair all I could think was, "Baby I got something so fine for you, you'll beg me for it." I slid my red painted lips up and down his cock watching the ring of lipstick around it grow and stretch with further proof of his arousal and I moaned on the head of his cock as doing this stoked my arousal to fever pitch. All night long I used my mouth on him, taking him to the edge and holding him there until he broke and began to beg for his release, "Please, baby, please I can't take anymore, let me come." His soft words did more to encourage my generosity at that moment than any normal command would have been able to do.
When I was done and the sweat was drying, he looked over at me and kissed my shoulder. He thanked me. HE THANKED ME. How hot is that?! When's the last time a man said thank you for anything. He told me that the entire trip he'd been on fire for me and couldn't wait to see what tonight would bring and his hand dragged up my thigh, scraping his nails lightly on my skin. My hips reached for his fingertips as if they'd had their own mind and I was like "oh fuck." I wasn't ready to be undone. I wasn't ready to show him the proof of my orgasm. He was like my drug and I swear to the Goddess, herself...he was stronger than me. He knew it. I knew it. He didn't stop and my pride fell to the side as my body went up in flames while he took his sweet time pushing me over the edge of the abyss. I begged and pleaded and cried for my release and he enjoyed teasing me. He was merciless and when I finally arched into his body he swooped in and slid all the way deep inside me and he had the nerve to ask, "Is that what you needed, baby?" But the fucking truth is that yes, it is what I needed. At that moment in time, I needed his cock inside me, I needed the fulfillment of that moment, of the climax that we would share. That knowing he would come and I would come and that we would lay spent, wet, and our fires never extinguished for the other.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Some of the best things occur in dreams...
There are nights when it's three a.m. and the world is asleep...you're the only one up and it seems like you just don't have that much to lose...when you could pack your bags without looking back and slip quietly from the safety of the world that you occupy. For me, it's always been true that I haunt the nights...I turn out the lights, turn on my cd made specifically with songs that allow my muse to flow and then I close my eyes and type. But here in Germany, this morning is interesting. I am watching other mothers take their children to school and I'm thinking... "Ladies, how is your sex life?" I just want to ask, "When is the last time he made you scream?"
We all know that my husband is gone so much that much of what occupies my brain is the rich imagination that I was gifted with. So when I write what I'm about to write...keep an open mind, because...well, it is my fantasy...
Last night was not like any other...I took the dog out for a last walk, showered and got the kids ready for bed, put the dishes away, another load of laundry in the dryer, mopped the floor...and collapsed into a scented bubble bath and called my best girlfriend. I told her that I'd had these weird dreams lately and that the dreams were so real I would wake up, no kidding, satisfied. Lucky for me she was always good for a naughty story and loved my ability to spin a tail...so when she said, "Ohhh tell tell." I obliged her.
I knew that I was dreaming...I knew it in my dream, but I could feel him next to me. I have no idea who he is. Only that he is the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on. He's the one who I want most in this world. His touch his so achingly sweet he inspires the softer side of me and my tears run freely while we make love. In my dream, he has no name...no distinct facial features that I could recognize if he were ever to materialize and become real. But he is a large man, fair skinned, with calloused hands. In my dream as we are laying in my king sized bed, underneath the fluffy down comforter and we are giggling as he snuggles up behind me and pulls me close to him. He is whispering naughty things in my ear as his hand slides up my legs, telling me how smooth they are, how he can't wait to feel them wrapped around him. In my dream, there are no clothes...just that comforter and his warmth to keep me covered and warm. I roll into him and give him my mouth for a searing kiss and I feel his body move over top of mine and my legs part for him. We do this dance as if we've done it for years and years and we know the rhythm intimately and already know the steps. I feel him, heavy and swollen, waiting for me to accept him...to meet him at that point where I need him and want him more than my next breath. He kisses me and trails his lips and tongue down my body to the tips of breasts that peak and pebble underneath his exquisite skill. The love bites he grants me, marks me..as if he worries that another would should come and try to be where he has been. I jump under each nibble and he soothes the mark with his tongue and a kiss. Suckling each patch of skin until it is sensitive and I am giggling from the intensity. He smiles as I laugh and giggle....he knows it's a reflection of how sensitive my body is and he enjoys knowing that he's made it possible for me to have such a heightened state of arousal that I can be like this, here, with him. Only him.
I feel my thighs drop wider and my feet curve around his large, muscular thighs and I grasp his ass and pull him into me. What amazes me is that it always feels so real, so right, worth so damn much to me that in this instance, writing it out makes it more real. I tell my girlfriend how good it feels when he rocks deep inside me and inadvertently a little moan escapes as I retell the story of his lovemaking and how he pulls me upwards to sit on his lap. How we rock together with the rhythm of the rain that is hitting my window pane and my nails are clutching his shoulders...holding me as close to him as I can get. My orgasm sending me over the edge. I'm not gonna lie and tout multiple orgasms during every sex session...c'mon now, get real...but I will tell you the truth. In each of these dreams...I was granted the beauty of a single, earth quaking, body rocking orgasm that lifted me so high and forced me to splinter into a million pieces as I floated back down and watched his body tense as he prepared for his own to follow. His breathing was labored in my ear and he laid me back down on the bed. He rocked me back and forth and I held his hips fast in my hands, murmuring to him, asking him for more, demanding that he come for me. That he give me his climax...that it was mine and I wanted it. I reached up and sucked gently on the lobe of his left ear and his mouth closed around my breast...his pace picked up faster and faster and faster until he managed to ground out through clenched teeth, "I'm coming, baby." and I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, holding on for dear life and bucked my hips underneath him and drawing out the intensity of his climax with everything inside of me.
"Then what?" My friend breathlessly asked me.
"Then what, what?" I replied. "I woke up. I was drenched in sweat, satisfied and in need of a shower."
"No way." She said. "That is too much."
I swore on my honor that I had been having these dreams since my husband left for the field almost two weeks ago. She swore on hers that it was a ghost. That I was making love to the ghost of a dream lover each night.
We all know that my husband is gone so much that much of what occupies my brain is the rich imagination that I was gifted with. So when I write what I'm about to write...keep an open mind, because...well, it is my fantasy...
Last night was not like any other...I took the dog out for a last walk, showered and got the kids ready for bed, put the dishes away, another load of laundry in the dryer, mopped the floor...and collapsed into a scented bubble bath and called my best girlfriend. I told her that I'd had these weird dreams lately and that the dreams were so real I would wake up, no kidding, satisfied. Lucky for me she was always good for a naughty story and loved my ability to spin a tail...so when she said, "Ohhh tell tell." I obliged her.
I knew that I was dreaming...I knew it in my dream, but I could feel him next to me. I have no idea who he is. Only that he is the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on. He's the one who I want most in this world. His touch his so achingly sweet he inspires the softer side of me and my tears run freely while we make love. In my dream, he has no name...no distinct facial features that I could recognize if he were ever to materialize and become real. But he is a large man, fair skinned, with calloused hands. In my dream as we are laying in my king sized bed, underneath the fluffy down comforter and we are giggling as he snuggles up behind me and pulls me close to him. He is whispering naughty things in my ear as his hand slides up my legs, telling me how smooth they are, how he can't wait to feel them wrapped around him. In my dream, there are no clothes...just that comforter and his warmth to keep me covered and warm. I roll into him and give him my mouth for a searing kiss and I feel his body move over top of mine and my legs part for him. We do this dance as if we've done it for years and years and we know the rhythm intimately and already know the steps. I feel him, heavy and swollen, waiting for me to accept him...to meet him at that point where I need him and want him more than my next breath. He kisses me and trails his lips and tongue down my body to the tips of breasts that peak and pebble underneath his exquisite skill. The love bites he grants me, marks me..as if he worries that another would should come and try to be where he has been. I jump under each nibble and he soothes the mark with his tongue and a kiss. Suckling each patch of skin until it is sensitive and I am giggling from the intensity. He smiles as I laugh and giggle....he knows it's a reflection of how sensitive my body is and he enjoys knowing that he's made it possible for me to have such a heightened state of arousal that I can be like this, here, with him. Only him.
I feel my thighs drop wider and my feet curve around his large, muscular thighs and I grasp his ass and pull him into me. What amazes me is that it always feels so real, so right, worth so damn much to me that in this instance, writing it out makes it more real. I tell my girlfriend how good it feels when he rocks deep inside me and inadvertently a little moan escapes as I retell the story of his lovemaking and how he pulls me upwards to sit on his lap. How we rock together with the rhythm of the rain that is hitting my window pane and my nails are clutching his shoulders...holding me as close to him as I can get. My orgasm sending me over the edge. I'm not gonna lie and tout multiple orgasms during every sex session...c'mon now, get real...but I will tell you the truth. In each of these dreams...I was granted the beauty of a single, earth quaking, body rocking orgasm that lifted me so high and forced me to splinter into a million pieces as I floated back down and watched his body tense as he prepared for his own to follow. His breathing was labored in my ear and he laid me back down on the bed. He rocked me back and forth and I held his hips fast in my hands, murmuring to him, asking him for more, demanding that he come for me. That he give me his climax...that it was mine and I wanted it. I reached up and sucked gently on the lobe of his left ear and his mouth closed around my breast...his pace picked up faster and faster and faster until he managed to ground out through clenched teeth, "I'm coming, baby." and I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, holding on for dear life and bucked my hips underneath him and drawing out the intensity of his climax with everything inside of me.
"Then what?" My friend breathlessly asked me.
"Then what, what?" I replied. "I woke up. I was drenched in sweat, satisfied and in need of a shower."
"No way." She said. "That is too much."
I swore on my honor that I had been having these dreams since my husband left for the field almost two weeks ago. She swore on hers that it was a ghost. That I was making love to the ghost of a dream lover each night.
The first of firsts...
He was my air force recruiter and I was merely eighteen. Young and more naive than I had any right to be. It's amazing what the protection of seriously involved parents could bring about. I didn't know any better and I had nothing to be embarassed of. So when the gold of his wedding band glinted in the late afternoon sun I still didn't turn away. It never occurred to me that his marriage was an issue I should concern myself with. Looking back, I should've ran like hell and told him to get lost, but the hedonist in me wouldn't allow something as droll as a social more to turn me away from the intoxicating lure of his kisses and caresses.
He drove over an hour to come to my little two bedroom, college apartment and I had just gotten back from the gym when I found him at my door. He was a bit early and I wanted a shower, so I offered him the kitchen and I went in and cleaned up a bit. I came out wearing a butter yellow tank top and some levi silver tab jeans. I was barefoot save for the toe ring on the second toe of my right foot and my hair was pinned high up on my head. He went through the spiel of why the Air Force was an amazing opportunity, my grades were high, I could be commissioned...and on and on and on. After it was over, I politely told him I was considering the NAVY as well and would seriously consider what he was offering...and I even was honest enough to say that the Air Force bases were in terrible locations unless you got an overseas billet....and that the NAVY was like a lifetime frat house party...which is what I wanted. Out from under the thumb of an oppressive family and the ever weighty duties of what I was always expected to do...
When he stood up to leave and I walked him to my door he turned and looked at me with these big, chocolate brown eyes and said..."I so want to kiss you breathless right now."
"Well, I'm a firm believer in doing what it is that you desire most." I replied with all the sassiness of a too young woman who hadn't yet shed the identity of childhood. When he kissed me though, it was pure heaven. His large frame took up my door and his file folder full of papers scattered across the living room as he backed me into the couch and we laughed nervously. My heart slammed against my rib cage and my palms were sweaty. I let him walk me backwards to my bedroom with the sparsely covered bed and the purple curtains on the basement sized windows and I sat at the edge of the bed. The tip of my tongue nervously darting out to lick across my lips and his smile was genuine when he asked if I were ready. I didn't know enough to be coy or play hard to get and I was full of arrogance when I looked him coolly up and down and smiled knowingly.
It was all for show and we both knew it. My hands shook when I reached for him, I was sweating, I was nervous...I had goosebumps and was in a state of near panic. But when I laid back and felt his tongue sweep across that part of me that emphasizes my femininity I felt faint. I felt eager to return the pleasure...but he held fast to my hips and encouraged me to sink against my covers...to enjoy it. And I did. Ten years later I still tell the story of the man who made me swoon....Do you want to know what happened? I'll tell you...in the confidence of sisterhood that only women can share.
That day, he walked me backwards into my sparsely decorated bedroom and laid me down. I felt my bare skin prickle and goosebumps rise as he undressed himself. He was large and glorious in front of me and for that moment in time, he was mine. His frame was well over six feet tall and he was easily over two hundred pounds of solid sinewy steele and it was easy for me to submit to the desires of such a sexy older man. He was at least twelve years older than me and apparently well versed in undressing women and young girls. But I reveled in the excitement, the enchanting gaze that swept across full breasts and made me ache and tingle all over. I reveled in the idea that this sexy man wanted to touch me, taste me...and I waited breathlessly as I made a grown man go to his knees and worship me with only the word, "Please." It was in that moment that I recognized the power of myself and the mystique of what it is that I possess. My sargeant was on his knees in my bedroom and his mouth was fastened to the heart of my soul. We are more than what occurs between our thighs, but it is moments like this that we are brought to a complete state where the world begins and ends at the juncture of our sex and I was learning to love it.
That man with his dark hair, streaked in silver and those sexy bedroom brown eyes laid me back and left love bites on my hips, across my belly, on the inside of my legs, and his lips worshipped me like a queen. I laid back and allowed him and when it was my turn to return the pleasure...I realized how much power a woman possesses when she takes her turn in giving exquisite release if she enjoys it. The key to sex isn't to endure it but rather to enjoy it. And as I opened my virgin mouth and allowed him to kiss me with the taste of my climax fresh on his tongue, I scratched my nails down his back and pulled him to me, rolling him onto his back and sliding my youthful frame down his lean torso and came into contact with what can only be called the essence of his manhood. His cock. One thing I've learned is that dicks are for little boys who don't know or care how to use them...grown men have a cock. They know what it is for, they use it correctly, they illicit pleasure with it, they push you and reach you at the core of who you are with it...and I loved his. He groaned and moaned and encouraged me and applauded me and guided me. I loved the freeing sensation of a man who wasn't afraid of me. So much of who I am is overpowering and yet this one man wasn't afraid of me, he was daring me. And I accepted the challenge and when he couldn't take more and needed mercy he rolled me back underneath him and as he went to slide in, deeply, sweetly....he stopped and asked if I had a condom. Frustrated and irritated with myself I had to answer, "No." My sargeant was nothing if not interested in protecting us both and he pulled away and responded, "Me either."
He kissed me on the lips, asked for a raincheck...that we never got to indulge and left. I had learned a valuable lesson that I should've been aware of and it's one only boyscouts apparently practice..."Be prepared."
He drove over an hour to come to my little two bedroom, college apartment and I had just gotten back from the gym when I found him at my door. He was a bit early and I wanted a shower, so I offered him the kitchen and I went in and cleaned up a bit. I came out wearing a butter yellow tank top and some levi silver tab jeans. I was barefoot save for the toe ring on the second toe of my right foot and my hair was pinned high up on my head. He went through the spiel of why the Air Force was an amazing opportunity, my grades were high, I could be commissioned...and on and on and on. After it was over, I politely told him I was considering the NAVY as well and would seriously consider what he was offering...and I even was honest enough to say that the Air Force bases were in terrible locations unless you got an overseas billet....and that the NAVY was like a lifetime frat house party...which is what I wanted. Out from under the thumb of an oppressive family and the ever weighty duties of what I was always expected to do...
When he stood up to leave and I walked him to my door he turned and looked at me with these big, chocolate brown eyes and said..."I so want to kiss you breathless right now."
"Well, I'm a firm believer in doing what it is that you desire most." I replied with all the sassiness of a too young woman who hadn't yet shed the identity of childhood. When he kissed me though, it was pure heaven. His large frame took up my door and his file folder full of papers scattered across the living room as he backed me into the couch and we laughed nervously. My heart slammed against my rib cage and my palms were sweaty. I let him walk me backwards to my bedroom with the sparsely covered bed and the purple curtains on the basement sized windows and I sat at the edge of the bed. The tip of my tongue nervously darting out to lick across my lips and his smile was genuine when he asked if I were ready. I didn't know enough to be coy or play hard to get and I was full of arrogance when I looked him coolly up and down and smiled knowingly.
It was all for show and we both knew it. My hands shook when I reached for him, I was sweating, I was nervous...I had goosebumps and was in a state of near panic. But when I laid back and felt his tongue sweep across that part of me that emphasizes my femininity I felt faint. I felt eager to return the pleasure...but he held fast to my hips and encouraged me to sink against my covers...to enjoy it. And I did. Ten years later I still tell the story of the man who made me swoon....Do you want to know what happened? I'll tell you...in the confidence of sisterhood that only women can share.
That day, he walked me backwards into my sparsely decorated bedroom and laid me down. I felt my bare skin prickle and goosebumps rise as he undressed himself. He was large and glorious in front of me and for that moment in time, he was mine. His frame was well over six feet tall and he was easily over two hundred pounds of solid sinewy steele and it was easy for me to submit to the desires of such a sexy older man. He was at least twelve years older than me and apparently well versed in undressing women and young girls. But I reveled in the excitement, the enchanting gaze that swept across full breasts and made me ache and tingle all over. I reveled in the idea that this sexy man wanted to touch me, taste me...and I waited breathlessly as I made a grown man go to his knees and worship me with only the word, "Please." It was in that moment that I recognized the power of myself and the mystique of what it is that I possess. My sargeant was on his knees in my bedroom and his mouth was fastened to the heart of my soul. We are more than what occurs between our thighs, but it is moments like this that we are brought to a complete state where the world begins and ends at the juncture of our sex and I was learning to love it.
That man with his dark hair, streaked in silver and those sexy bedroom brown eyes laid me back and left love bites on my hips, across my belly, on the inside of my legs, and his lips worshipped me like a queen. I laid back and allowed him and when it was my turn to return the pleasure...I realized how much power a woman possesses when she takes her turn in giving exquisite release if she enjoys it. The key to sex isn't to endure it but rather to enjoy it. And as I opened my virgin mouth and allowed him to kiss me with the taste of my climax fresh on his tongue, I scratched my nails down his back and pulled him to me, rolling him onto his back and sliding my youthful frame down his lean torso and came into contact with what can only be called the essence of his manhood. His cock. One thing I've learned is that dicks are for little boys who don't know or care how to use them...grown men have a cock. They know what it is for, they use it correctly, they illicit pleasure with it, they push you and reach you at the core of who you are with it...and I loved his. He groaned and moaned and encouraged me and applauded me and guided me. I loved the freeing sensation of a man who wasn't afraid of me. So much of who I am is overpowering and yet this one man wasn't afraid of me, he was daring me. And I accepted the challenge and when he couldn't take more and needed mercy he rolled me back underneath him and as he went to slide in, deeply, sweetly....he stopped and asked if I had a condom. Frustrated and irritated with myself I had to answer, "No." My sargeant was nothing if not interested in protecting us both and he pulled away and responded, "Me either."
He kissed me on the lips, asked for a raincheck...that we never got to indulge and left. I had learned a valuable lesson that I should've been aware of and it's one only boyscouts apparently practice..."Be prepared."
He was sexier than sin & twice as charming...
The man was sexier than sin and twice as charming, he could have easily converted a nun to hedonism. He had swagger, he was bold....he was interested in me. A single mom of two kids who had merely walked into his office for information...but that's not the point...the point is that when I turned to leave he escorted me out and gave me his card. He made me want him so much in a way that I hadn't wanted a man in a very long time. I met him without makeup on...I met him without being dressed to the hilt of fashion and glamour...I met him feeling the most un sexy that I had ever felt and he sparked something in me. When I left him, I drove straight to the cell phone store and bought a car charger so that if I chose to call him, my phone wouldn't die...because I knew that if I dialed that phone I wouldn't want to hang up with someone who piqued my interest so highly.
It took me two days to do it but I called him and the deep, rumbling quality that matched that jet black hair, pale green eyes and that slow sexy smile that he gave me was worth making the phone ring. He chatted with me, alternately talking about things of no consequence and flirting me to the point of distraction. The first phone call was going to be the start of an almost two year love affair. His name is unimportant...what mattered was the level of desire we evoked in the other...secret phone calls, clandestine hotel rendezvous, and on the rare occasion it could be managed; dinner and good wine at my place or his. The secret was for our benefit and no one else's. We were both single and free to do as we pleased, but as people often do...the secret is so much better if you don't share it with anyone.
For a year after this had ended I had agonized over whether or not to keep a journal about it, but I loathed the idea of anyone intruding on what had come to be, my fantasy come to life....and I didn't want to share anything about him. He was beautiful in a very sinful way...like looking at a chocolate cheesecake, strawberries & champagne, and wanting to devour the feast rather than enjoy & take your time on what others would consider your fair share. I wanted him...I wanted his body in ways that were too much for me to handle and the scars I carried from the separation and divorce were so fresh that he always had a knack for making me feel raw and exposed...vulnerable....all the time... The truth was, I alternately loved him and hated him.
There were moments that if he'd asked me to be his, I would have said "yes" without any doubt or hesitation. The first time that I had felt the pressing desire to want more from him was when I had first went to his house I was tired and sweaty from driving and handling errands all day and when I walked into his air conditioned town house it was calming...he just had this way of looking at me and making butterflies dance and yet....soothing me and making me focus on the time we had together. He led me up the stairs to his bedroom and en suite shower and took his time testing the water temperature, gathering towels, & undressing me. So slowly...my slacks slipped off my hips and hit the floor with a soft rustle, my black, cotton, boy short panties followed and then he began unbuttoning my shirt and kissing each inch of exposed flesh as it became accessible to his lush lips. When my blouse and bra hit the floor I was the only one undone and undressed, so I pushed him against the wall in a demand for equality, sliding my hands into his gym shorts I had begun stroking his magnificent cock. It was thick, large, with beautiful veins that I could feel as I stroked my fingertips along the length as it grew rigid in my hand. I begged him to join me and I could feel him smiling against my lips...that was our signal that we were ready to move forward. We laughed a lot in bed...we enjoyed each other. We pushed and challenged one another and I am almost of the mind that had we met at a different time we would still be enjoying what we had for that glorious year and a half of unbridled, erotic bliss. That smile signaled me to push him further...I began inching his shorts over his lean hips and I followed their path with my mouth. I landed on my knees before this man and as our eyes met he brushed my hair out of my eyes and his lips parted as if he wanted to say, "Please." but couldn't quite bring himself to ask for it...to surrender to it...so rather than wait on permission I took. I pulled his hips forward and wrapped my red lipstick painted lips around his cock. I could feel him flexing and growing thicker in my mouth and when we were in the middle of those moments I wanted nothing more than what was going on at that moment in time, between just the two of us and how he made the rest of the world fade away. He moved my hair back and slid himself from my mouth and reached for my hands as I stood and followed him to the shower. The steam had sweat coming from the walls and trickling down our backs as we stepped under the rain of water coming from the shower head.
I luxuriated in the lavender and jasmine scented bath soap being massaged into my skin by his callused hands and his whisper in my ear to hold my hair up so he could get my neck. I could feel the heat of his chest against my back when he reached around to soap my breasts and down the expanse of my belly. My nipples beaded and grew hard against his palms and I arched into his touch, gasping for air and wanting more. I moaned softly as the pressure in my body was making me ache and grow wetter for what his touch was promising me. God he was so good at all of this...seduction. He always made me want more. His fingers rushed rinsing water all over my body and when it was my turn, I stammered, "I've never done this before...I don't know what to do." The immediate kindness that came across his features as he took in the terror on my face....was, very simply put, sweet. It crippled me and the tears began to run down my face as I told him of a loveless marriage to an emotionally damaged and distant man...that my husband had been my first and only until now... I hiccuped and sobbed out that the sexual part of it was easy...it was just physical...but the sensuality, the emotions that were running deep were what was difficult to manage. He handed me a loofah and squeezed the body wash into it and put his hands over mine as we lathered it up and made suds and bubbles cover our hands and he pressed the loofah against his chest with his hand overtop of mine. We made slow, lazy circles of that loofah and I washed each slice of beautiful flesh with the utmost care...hoping that this would be the start of a new and amazing sensual journey into myself. I washed him over and over just enjoying the privilege of a man who wanted me and he stood there and let me without saying a word and as the water ran cold we raced to rinse him off and jump out of the cold, stinging drops of water and into the relative safety of fluffy towels and a four poster bed with a soft cheetah printed cover on it.
He laid me back against that bed and his body slid up mine easily as he kissed me. He liked to kiss...I learned from him that I liked kissing too. He made it fun...a tease with the tip of the tongue, a nip of teeth against my lower lip, fingers in my hair at the base of my neck...hands touching, bodies sliding and kissing. We had eyes wide open kind of sex. Sweaty, sensual, sex with moans and sighs and pleas for more. With him I became sexy. I learned to appreciate the desire for myself and a partner who could match me. When I was with him, when he was inside me...pushing me to the edge of a climax, holding me there, and watching me shatter I learned to beg...shamelessly. He taught me that there was no shame between lovers...that everything was fair game and meant to be enjoyed.
That afternoon, I drove to the house of a man who could bring me to my knees...and in that sweltering Indiana heat as I drove home with the air conditioning off and the windows down my body tingled all the way to my front door. And while I hate the thought of sharing how I felt, parts of the adventure of him and what he gave me...if ever I were given a chance to say thank you...I hope that someday he reads this and smiles, knowing he gave me a remarkable gift and can remember me as fondly as I do him.
It took me two days to do it but I called him and the deep, rumbling quality that matched that jet black hair, pale green eyes and that slow sexy smile that he gave me was worth making the phone ring. He chatted with me, alternately talking about things of no consequence and flirting me to the point of distraction. The first phone call was going to be the start of an almost two year love affair. His name is unimportant...what mattered was the level of desire we evoked in the other...secret phone calls, clandestine hotel rendezvous, and on the rare occasion it could be managed; dinner and good wine at my place or his. The secret was for our benefit and no one else's. We were both single and free to do as we pleased, but as people often do...the secret is so much better if you don't share it with anyone.
For a year after this had ended I had agonized over whether or not to keep a journal about it, but I loathed the idea of anyone intruding on what had come to be, my fantasy come to life....and I didn't want to share anything about him. He was beautiful in a very sinful way...like looking at a chocolate cheesecake, strawberries & champagne, and wanting to devour the feast rather than enjoy & take your time on what others would consider your fair share. I wanted him...I wanted his body in ways that were too much for me to handle and the scars I carried from the separation and divorce were so fresh that he always had a knack for making me feel raw and exposed...vulnerable....all the time... The truth was, I alternately loved him and hated him.
There were moments that if he'd asked me to be his, I would have said "yes" without any doubt or hesitation. The first time that I had felt the pressing desire to want more from him was when I had first went to his house I was tired and sweaty from driving and handling errands all day and when I walked into his air conditioned town house it was calming...he just had this way of looking at me and making butterflies dance and yet....soothing me and making me focus on the time we had together. He led me up the stairs to his bedroom and en suite shower and took his time testing the water temperature, gathering towels, & undressing me. So slowly...my slacks slipped off my hips and hit the floor with a soft rustle, my black, cotton, boy short panties followed and then he began unbuttoning my shirt and kissing each inch of exposed flesh as it became accessible to his lush lips. When my blouse and bra hit the floor I was the only one undone and undressed, so I pushed him against the wall in a demand for equality, sliding my hands into his gym shorts I had begun stroking his magnificent cock. It was thick, large, with beautiful veins that I could feel as I stroked my fingertips along the length as it grew rigid in my hand. I begged him to join me and I could feel him smiling against my lips...that was our signal that we were ready to move forward. We laughed a lot in bed...we enjoyed each other. We pushed and challenged one another and I am almost of the mind that had we met at a different time we would still be enjoying what we had for that glorious year and a half of unbridled, erotic bliss. That smile signaled me to push him further...I began inching his shorts over his lean hips and I followed their path with my mouth. I landed on my knees before this man and as our eyes met he brushed my hair out of my eyes and his lips parted as if he wanted to say, "Please." but couldn't quite bring himself to ask for it...to surrender to it...so rather than wait on permission I took. I pulled his hips forward and wrapped my red lipstick painted lips around his cock. I could feel him flexing and growing thicker in my mouth and when we were in the middle of those moments I wanted nothing more than what was going on at that moment in time, between just the two of us and how he made the rest of the world fade away. He moved my hair back and slid himself from my mouth and reached for my hands as I stood and followed him to the shower. The steam had sweat coming from the walls and trickling down our backs as we stepped under the rain of water coming from the shower head.
I luxuriated in the lavender and jasmine scented bath soap being massaged into my skin by his callused hands and his whisper in my ear to hold my hair up so he could get my neck. I could feel the heat of his chest against my back when he reached around to soap my breasts and down the expanse of my belly. My nipples beaded and grew hard against his palms and I arched into his touch, gasping for air and wanting more. I moaned softly as the pressure in my body was making me ache and grow wetter for what his touch was promising me. God he was so good at all of this...seduction. He always made me want more. His fingers rushed rinsing water all over my body and when it was my turn, I stammered, "I've never done this before...I don't know what to do." The immediate kindness that came across his features as he took in the terror on my face....was, very simply put, sweet. It crippled me and the tears began to run down my face as I told him of a loveless marriage to an emotionally damaged and distant man...that my husband had been my first and only until now... I hiccuped and sobbed out that the sexual part of it was easy...it was just physical...but the sensuality, the emotions that were running deep were what was difficult to manage. He handed me a loofah and squeezed the body wash into it and put his hands over mine as we lathered it up and made suds and bubbles cover our hands and he pressed the loofah against his chest with his hand overtop of mine. We made slow, lazy circles of that loofah and I washed each slice of beautiful flesh with the utmost care...hoping that this would be the start of a new and amazing sensual journey into myself. I washed him over and over just enjoying the privilege of a man who wanted me and he stood there and let me without saying a word and as the water ran cold we raced to rinse him off and jump out of the cold, stinging drops of water and into the relative safety of fluffy towels and a four poster bed with a soft cheetah printed cover on it.
He laid me back against that bed and his body slid up mine easily as he kissed me. He liked to kiss...I learned from him that I liked kissing too. He made it fun...a tease with the tip of the tongue, a nip of teeth against my lower lip, fingers in my hair at the base of my neck...hands touching, bodies sliding and kissing. We had eyes wide open kind of sex. Sweaty, sensual, sex with moans and sighs and pleas for more. With him I became sexy. I learned to appreciate the desire for myself and a partner who could match me. When I was with him, when he was inside me...pushing me to the edge of a climax, holding me there, and watching me shatter I learned to beg...shamelessly. He taught me that there was no shame between lovers...that everything was fair game and meant to be enjoyed.
That afternoon, I drove to the house of a man who could bring me to my knees...and in that sweltering Indiana heat as I drove home with the air conditioning off and the windows down my body tingled all the way to my front door. And while I hate the thought of sharing how I felt, parts of the adventure of him and what he gave me...if ever I were given a chance to say thank you...I hope that someday he reads this and smiles, knowing he gave me a remarkable gift and can remember me as fondly as I do him.
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