I do not relax, I do not get to escape…ever. I do not lose control or just let go. Yet I did. There are those (not so) rare occasions when I want to get lost for a few hours; but lack a companion with the same desires. So it never happens. Yet on a sunny fall day somewhere in a post orgasmic haze I found myself fully clothed and snuggled up on the bed next to her, the warm yellow light of a mid-morning filled the room. She moved and touched the edge of my bicep.
She traced up it and over my t shirt…that was a beautiful dark black to match my soul. I purred with pleasure as she continued on. Nuzzling in closer, just running her fingertips from my low back, across, my lats, touching me so deliciously on the base of my neck, my arms and back again.
Now if this was purely about something sexual it would be the part where I take my shirt off. Which I did. It could have become deeply erotic. They were truly touching and powerful moments but not in the way you’d probably expect.
She continued to rub her hands across my warms flesh, and nibble on my neck, steal a kiss from my lips and push in closer. Her focus was on me, on nothing more than being there and caressing me. This sounds odd but it was not anything I had ever expected from a woman again. These type of moments are something so desperately longed for, craved in my most private of thoughts, and needed in ways that would vary to every person.
Yet when you are devoid of this type of connection it haunts you, it consumes you, it becomes an addiction to itself. Yet something seemingly so simple is not anything I even bothered to even ask for any more. Sadly requests for this type of attention, any kind of prolonged touch or focus on me in life has become the sole province of those paid to do so.; masseurs, spa treatments, and other luxuries. While wonderful, they are a sad substitution for an attentive lover. They are glorious in their own rite but lack the intimacy of moments like these.
Her lips soft and wet on my neck, her nibbles erotic, her hands tireless. She would ask if I minded lotion. I was the one floating now, drunk on her touch, at peace with in myself. I know I said “yes that would be nice” or something to that effect.
She walked across the room and I watched her, she really does make me happy. There are things about her that I may never quite find the words to say that amaze me.
She joked about debating on whether or not warm the lotion up. Which she did, cold lotion would not have been a new thing but it was a gesture of kindness. One that was appreciated.
I melted further and further away from the world with each touch, each movement of her hands, with each passing second. Fighting back the thought that all too soon it would be over, that I would be leaving. Instead of worrying about the future even if it was only hours away the present was lived in.
I felt her petite frame stretch out across my back, her magnificent chest met my flesh as her touch increased. Becoming more sensual. She pressed into and against me, sliding her body against mine.
My foot moved and it donned on me I was still in jeans and wing tips. I thought of speaking up but chose to just stay as is and enjoy what was already amazing. Seconds felt like an eternity in paradise. She tells me our time like this was about an hour long. Honestly the fact I had completely lost track of time, of everything but her and I in those moments actually means more than anything.
As this time ended she offered. “Thank you for letting me touch you”. Jesus she enjoyed this too. Touching me was not a burden or an obligation. I really had almost forgotten what that felt like. It may not have been conveyed how appreciated she was in those moments.
The day was calling. Soon enough we were in the car. Just talking, easily like two old friends about all sorts of things. After a shopping stop or two we’d head to the beach, strolling past a few homes where each of us mused about one architecture vs another, about the need for us to have a week together. She mentioned wanting to alternating playing, time with friends, and then time on the beach. Listlessly drifting from one activity to the next as it suited us. I simply smiled and thought about how wonderful it would be to have her next to me for more than a night or two at a time.
We would share lunches and I’d prove my mettle with seafood. In my own way being attentive to her. Someday I’ll cook for her but until then…. We lingered over lunch just in the shade from a bright day with the sea breeze dancing across our skin.
She wound up with my phones in her hand. “Kiss me!” she demanded. “You have to kiss me if you want them back!” I reached for them and she turned away “NO you have to kiss me”. She was being playful. I realized it moments after I kissed her. Prior to that my OCD got the better of me and like a dog ready to attack was myopically focused on those silly little devices and not her. “Ladies and gentlemen the Stupid man misses the bus AGAIN!” would be the voice over if this day were in a movie.
I kissed her, though not as much or as well as I should have. I should have played back, it never occurred to me in the moment. Later somewhere over Oklahoma I would realize how damaged I’ve become, to miss something so sweet and innocent.
We wondered out over the water, I’d take a call or two but mostly just watched her walk, talked about life, and family and work and just about everything else. Things being complicated of course we both talked about our other relationships. We agreed that we do need to find more time for us. And no sooner than we nodded in agreement it occurred to me this was our first “real” date. Not time to play, or reconnect, or catch up but an actual in earnest date. No D/S, not even sex although she did share a few wonderful idea’s on our walk.
Eventually with wing tips in hand, socks removed, and my jeans rolled we strolled up the shoreline. It was a holiday and the beach buzzed with locals but she was all I noticed.
After a time we made our way back towards the car. Longing for an excuse to steal a few more moments I sat on a bench and slowly brushed off the sand and sea water. Replaced my socks and shoes. Took her by the hand for a few steps and begrudlingly headed toward the parking lot.
An hour later I’d be at the airport, she would be stuck in traffic. 8 hours alter I’d arrive home to no fanfare; at least the dog didn’t growl at me. She waited for me text to say all was well and I was safe.
I drifted off to sleep remembering, albeit somewhat sadly now that I was gone a day of seemingly indescribable pleasure.
Its 18 hours since I’d left her. Sure there had been conversations (about sports) with a few acquaintances, my Saturday morning ritual of rolling around in the dark with strangers (Yoga). Still before other parts of my weekend ritual began I sat there alone on the couch wondering why I bother to rush home? There I was in a big empty house, which even when not empty everyone chooses to be in a different part of it. No one other than the dog ever bothers to come snuggle up with me on the couch. Despite all the good things I have there sometimes the gaps of seemingly simple things that I have simply stopped asking for feels like a great expanse. In a future Post “Appreciating the Differences” will cover the conversations tied to that.