the feel of his skin next to mine. the rough hewn of the hair that covers his body and the softness of his full beard between my thighs. or at the back of my neck before traveling down my back. or the delicious curve of the head of his cock, smooth, silky, hard. the way my lips wrap around his hard shaft and his hips twitch and buck.
his scent. clean. him. mixed with mine. our scent. the way it lingers in the air. my desire to submit to his every whim. the need to feel him. hard. harder. more.
the reverberation of life coursing through my body as reclaims what is his. thoroughly. completely. my mind blank as my only desire is to follow his lead and discover more of the me he sees. he knows. he owns.
the medication that i’ve been prescribed between chemo treatments usually leaves me with nausea (though much less than if i didn’t take it) but last night it seemed to bring about dreams that were fueled by memories of me and him. together. in one of those rare moments we’ve had over the course of the last two years.
that first kiss when i realized without a doubt i had not only crossed the line i swore i would never cross, i had pole vaulted over it. or the way the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my nipples went erect when he walked into the conference and i hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet.
or the delicious way his blush reached all the way up to his cerulean blue eyes and my panties went wet. or the raspberries he brought unexpectedly when i was alone in nyc and he found the time to cross the bridge to welcome me to his side of the continent. or meeting at my favorite bistro on the one day our travel schedules aligned whilst we were in france. enjoying a meal before strolling along the city. and the moment at the chalet his past fall, when i had orgasm after orgasm after orgasm and he held me as my body lay spent, trembling from pleasure i had only ever read about in erotic novels.
the way my flesh in his hands responds of their own accord and the way he renders me speechless with the simple flick of his tongue on so many parts of my body. his skin against mine and his weight upon me. the salty taste of his skin or better yet, the taste of myself on his tongue as his mouth recaptures mine.
dreaming of him leaves me spent and aching for his taste, his touch, his scent, him.
“where have you been?” “is everything okay?” “thinking of you” are just a few examples of the unexpected and thoughtful messages that started hitting my inbox the other day. fellow bloggers, yes, most ow, that I’ve been following, commenting on their posts, liking their posts etc.
what can i say other than i have indeed been absent. not intentionally but deliberately. last friday my darling husband, the man i have been tethered to for the past 25-years, asked me if i was involved with someone outside of our marriage. to say that i was shocked and scared is not quite adequate. shocked because i have long maintained, in my weekly sessions with my therapist, that if anything, should said husband discover my affair, he would either: not care, not notice and or be relieved. scared because as much as it may be hard to believe, i cannot lie when asked a question outright. of course i admitted that yes, i was (am?) indeed involved in a long distance, primarily “virtual” relationship. i wasn’t scared about the status of our relationship, no, i was afraid of the end of my relationship with “him”. while my dh is not a punitive or vengeful person, i am afraid that he may reach out to him and or his bride to confront him. that cannot happen. while my absence from all things social, was not intentional, the step back and silence has been deliberate. the separation from my blogging has been the most painful of all as i receive so much solace and education from the blogs i follow.
dh’s reaction has run the spectrum of anger, sadness and shock. anger and shock i expected. sadness i did not. this has never been about me leaving him for another. nor has it been about wielding a “you’ve had two affairs in the past and this is my turn” stick. the sadness, the hurt is hard for me to swallow (wait for it, yes i expect the haters to come out in full force now) because i question whether or not it’s genuine. is he genuinely sad that we might be ending? or is it his ego that can’t believe that the woman who he has always known and said “mckenzie will love me forever. she has always loved me more than i have ever loved her. she’s lucky a man like me remains married to an overweight and unattractive woman like her” etc.
he asked if i loved him. of course i lied and said no. no good can come of revealing that i am emotionally attached to him and that the physical side of our affair, as rare as those moments are, are the most emotionally satisfying and fulfilling of my life.
why is it that after all of these years, specifically the last four in which i begged, asked, pleaded with him to “say something” , to meet me in the middle, to consider counseling or seeing a doctor, why now? when i am so emotionally divorced that he suddenly has an epiphany and says that i should have known that he loves me, deep down and all of those hurtful words, his past affairs and his lack of interest in me sexually, is “just his way” and that my feelings and my desires should take a back seat to the last 25 years we have shared.
now, now he is willing to see a counselor. not to fix “us” but to support me in my quest to fix myself so we can go back to the way it was. the way it should be. the way he wants it to be again. my heart broke as i avoided “him” most of friday until i was safely away in my office and could log on and let him know what happened. i held my breath as i waited for him to say “goodbye” his self preservation kicking into high gear. and i cried, for the first time on friday when he asked what could he do and said “i can’t just walk away mckenzie. maybe before. and maybe i should. it’s always been my rule. but you have forced me to rethink those rules from the moment we met. this is no exception.”
darling husband and i have been talking. spending time trying to find common ground in what it is we want out of a marriage/relationship whether with or without one another. i know i want and need more. it isn’t about him. it is about me. and so we journey forward. i am not trusting his demeanor or his assertions that his way is the way it needs to be. i am giving the counseling a chance since i have wanted it for years. only now, i want to be able to take this next step either with dh or without him in a better space. dh has asked me to end it with my internet friend by the end of the month. i asked him “or what?” and he merely shook his head and replied “well since you yourself have said it’s not a mean to be relationship. eventually you will realize i am the best you will ever have”
rambling on and sad. missing him. our communications limited to a few minutes online over the last few days. but i know this is a leg of the journey i am taking on my own.
there is something about him that i can’t get enough of. it’s not the sex, although to be very clear, he is my ideal sexual partner. there is no doubt about the aphrodisiac that is called desire. the desire that someone else has for you that fuels that flame. it’s as if with every kiss or touch or taste instead of quenching my thirst i literally ache for more.
i am deathly allergic to cats, specifically feline dander and their chemical makeup. as i’ve gotten older, my olfactory sensitivities has increased. certain smells that used to annoy me can literally floor me and make me nauseous and cologne that i used to love on men make me sneeze. a few things about him that i appreciated from the get-go included:
- he doesn’t wear jewelry. he wears a modest watch and his wedding ring. i’ve never been a jewelry kind of gal, i only wear my engagement and wedding rings and only out. i’ve always taken them off when i get home from work and put them away. but as much as i dislike jewelry on myself, i don’t like it on men. no thick chains, or link bracelets or pinky rings etc. i don’t know where that comes from but i do recall it starting when i was very young.
- he is clean. i don’t mean antiseptic like, but he has a “scrubbed” clean look about him. while he indulges in micro-brews and the occasional gin & tonics, he has never smoked a day in his life nor tried drugs of any kind. so his skin is remarkably clear and his complexion is aging nicely so to speak.
- he keeps his nails trimmed and short. i keep my own nails manicured and short out of preference and what looks good on me. but if a man, especially one that has a job that doesn’t involve construction or working with their hands, has long fingernails (let alone toe nails) it grosses me out. i am sure it’s because i had a neighbor when i was in elementary school that was a bit of a hermit and while he was very well put together, he kept his nails long and dirty. i still convulse a little when i think of mr. cedergren.
- he doesn’t wear cologne, of any kind. he has a fresh clean smell about him, that freshly scrubbed smell that even when he works up a sweat or i greet him at the end of his day is just a mixture of him. and i crave that scent. inhaling all that is him.
- the taste of his skin. is lightly salty and his lips are soft and kissing him. tasting him is the way i imagine kissing fresh rain would taste like if you could kiss the rain on a spring morning.
- his taste is intoxicating. it’s uniquely him. it’s what i crave.