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.
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.
kissing him. i miss the flush of endorphins that run through just before our lips touch. the hewn of his beard on my face. his taste and the way my mouth waters in anticipation and the flare of my nostrils when his scent hits them. i miss being kissed so thoroughly and completely that i lose track of time and i pout when we have to break apart. i miss the way my knees buckle and the strength of his arm holding me up. i miss that sigh when i realize he is really right there, right then, i miss kissing. him.