Fully asleep, or so nearly asleep that my
motions are merely thermotropic, I roll against her softness.
Friday, it had been softer yet. Friday, while
the kids were at a friend's party, we had cuddled and petted in
the living room. We had kissed in the kitchen while preparing a
snack. By the time the kids got back, stuffed with sweets, they
were ready for bed for once -- but not nearly so ready as we
were.
Once they were tucked in, however, ours was a time of calm.
Winding down, separately to the bathroom, each slipping into our
own side, talking quietly about the day, we removed the cares
with our clothes before we kissed good night.
Adolescent desire crashes in like a wave. Married lust rises
like the tide, quietly, inevitably; but it reaches as far up the
beach. Kisses and cuddles and strokes on the back and neck and
ears. In a pause between kissing her breasts, I rubbed my cheeks
against them.
"You shaved again!" she said, as if this were a surprise.
"The better to eat you with, my dear," I replied again. And,
in due time, I did.
For a minute, I have the familiar warm body
against me, only a robe and a nightgown away.
Her thighs, freshly bathed, had no savor. The
same complaint could not be made about their junction, however.
I tasted, and teased, and lapped her juice while she could bear
it. When she pushed me off and slid away, it was not rejection.
Instead, once fully on her side of the bed, she threw the sheet
towards the middle and spread her legs. When I had climbed
across one, she raised her knees and held me in both hands.
"You seem ready," she whispered.
"Definitely. I want you."
"I want you, too. Let me."
She guided me inside her and sighed as I slid home. Soon she
was meeting my thrusts with her own. I could watch her face
tighten in the faint light. When she clutched my butt, though,
my own orgasm took all my attention. She panted in my ear for a
minute before I rolled off her; probably I panted in hers,
too.
My moving away was no more a rejection than hers had been
earlier. When I got the sheet straightened out, I lifted it in
invitation. She slid over, and I tucked us in. Then we snuggled
together.
"Good for you?" I asked.
"Mmhm hm. You?"
"Great." And it had been.
"Good for you," she said. It hadn't been that funny the first
time, but we both giggled like schoolgirls. When you feel that
good, everything is funny.
She burrows back against me. My hand moves
to cup her breast. But those motions wake us.
The loving mood lasted through breakfast and
while I drove her out to the mall. She shopped for groceries
while I looked in at the hardware store. I asked some questions
about the project I was planning, and several customers commented
on the clerk's suggestions.
When I got back to where we had parked the car, it was no
longer there. It's place was marked by two soggy half-gallon
containers of melted ice cream. The walk home was long and hot,
but my reception at the end was chilly.
And now, as I sleepily hug her form against
me, a sharp elbow reminds me of that. Another jab catches me
before I scurry back to the edge.