missed connections. some days, they weigh heavier than usual. today is one of those days.
They lay there, dozing, legs entwined, enjoying being in the presence of the other. That state in which endorphins have overloaded their senses and a euphoric sleepiness ensues. In whispered tones they greet one another, in-between soft, gentle kisses. Overwhelmed, she goes to turn her head away as the tears reappear, threatening to spill from her eyes when he catches her lips with his once again “shh, I’m here. No tears…” he whispers. Looking up into his cerulean blue eyes all she can do is nod and give in to the moment. Their moment. Rare as it is.
kissing. him. i miss him. think of him. always.
*sigh*
The days that lead to weeks into months were filled with memories and fantasies of the next time she would see him. Taste him. Kiss him. Smell him. More often than not those fantasies were fueled by a longing that was palpable and an as of yet, unquenchable desire for him.
The days leading up to their reunion, visions of that first kiss and tight embrace would give way to memories of his touch. The way his hands are large and firm yet baby soft. A simple caress down the length of her arm slays her, leaving her a quivering mess. The feel of his beard at the base of her neck sends her sex juices spilling and then he proceeds to torture her with firm yet slow and teasing lovemaking. she sigh out loud at the thought.
And yet, as soon as they kiss in the hallway, not far from his room, slow and sweet is the furthest thing from her mind. She devours each of his kisses as if she’s never been kissed before, grabbing his face and pulling herself up on her tiptoes as she enjoys the feel of his beard along his strong jawline. And then he growled.
Something in her snapped as she grabbed at his belt, fumbling about to undo it as he takes his hands off of her swollen breasts long enough to unhook her bra. Looking up at him she grins and slides to her knees, bringing his jeans down around his legs along with her. Her fingers tremble as she reaches into his boxers to reveal his hard, delicious cock. Oh god, his cock. How she’s longed to flick her tongue across the silken smooth head before engulfing it with her mouth, salivating in lust as she spends time worshipping at the altar of his deliciousness. Her hands fast at work, touching him, caressing his balls and tickling that soft patch of skin between his balls and his ass, she’s wet in anticipation and yet still lets out a “hmpf” and pouts when he can’t take it any longer and pulls her up, tossing her backwards on the bed.
“Get on your hands and knees” he commands, as if he has to command at all. She finds herself on all fours, pushing her ass back at him, not wanting to wait. No, don’t make me wait she moans and with that first deep thrust he sets off a frenzy he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. She has no other thought than to cum and cum hard. Fast. She was wound tight and begged for that blessed relief. The relief that only he knew how to coax from her multiple times, time and time again. “Oh god lover, please don’t stop” she whimpers, “don’t stop. fuck me. hard. use me. take me. harder.” the words tumble out over one another. “Slow down Baby” he huskily implores “we have time.”
She grinds back in answer, her pussy clenching and demanding as her hips undulate. Looking for the best angle to impale herself on his glistening cock. The scent of their co-mingled sex only further fanning her fire. “Shut up..” she mewls as her eyes rolls to the back of her head and she gives into the pleasure she gasps as she falls over the edge.
Indeed. There is something about that moment, when you experience that kiss that sends you tumbling headlong into an abyss. Exhilarating, terrifying, and reverberating.
It’s the kiss that many don’t believe exists. While attending a fundraising event that another friend is the chair of, the frenemies and I were reminiscing about first kisses. At various stages of one’s life. Whether it’s that first innocent kiss when in grade school and a crush steals a kiss (or you do) on the cheek. Or middle school and the first game of spin the bottle, or even that first awkward kiss when someone leans in for a kiss you weren’t expecting. And then of course the memories of those first kisses when in high school and in the throes of first love or the teenage hormone fueled years to those first months in college. At some point, the memories became more current if you will, in the more recent past than distant.
One of the women, sobbed that she has never had a first kiss, or any kiss that felt like *that*. Everyone immediately tried to make her feel better by saying things like: “oh i’m sure you have, you might not remember it”, or “surely that’s what you experience with sam?”, “it doesn’t mean you don’t love sam.” to which she sobbed again and said “no, it’s not that. it’s that I don’t know what that feels like. maybe it doesn’t exist.” After closer introspection, and that extra glass of wine, some of the frenemies spoke candidly about kissing. Many of them don’t like it, not at all . It isn’t their spouses or significant other but something that they just don’t enjoy. A couple of women said that they like kissing but their partners don’t. None of what we were saying made Heidi feel any better.
Later, after the topic had changed and we were all involved in various, separate conversations, I found myself alone with Heidi, she wasn’t crying any longer but she was subdued and an air of melancholia was all about her. Emme went to use the restroom and Heidi looked over at me and asked me point blank if I’ve ever experienced that kind of first kiss, the kind that brings to home how lonely you were until that point. I don’t know Heidi well, she’s part of the frenemies from well before I met them, but in that moment I understood exactly what she was asking. What she was searching for. I took a deep breath, looked her straight in the eye and said “Not in my entire life. Until a few years ago.”
She put her head in her hands but I could still hear her utter “I thought I was the only one.”…
I love to read. I may have written about this love of mine here or there. But I do. Sometimes, when the day has been too much or I just need a break, a good book has always been a trusty escape.
There are a few folks that work on the new team I’m part of that seem to like having a new kid on the block, even if I am old enough to be their older sister, and they’ve been stopping by these past two weeks offering up books they’ve read they think I’d enjoy. Some are work related, some are tech related but the majority are fiction and of varying genres.
Granted, it could be that they are cleaning out their offices and are too lazy to put their books in the common “up for grabs” area of our building, but some are new complete with gift receipts. I’m not sure what to make of it…though I do love a good read now again.
is me is really me 