We snuggle on the couch watching TV as if we were a married couple.
"I don't get how this show has won critical acclaim. The writing sucks."
"Oh my God, how can you be so negative? Besides, Mary-Louise Parker is totally hot," he parries.
"And she's acting horribly. She was infinitely better in Fried Green Tomatoes. The writing and the acting are both horrible."
"Do you want me to change the channel?" he asks, poking me in the ribs.
"No," I giggle.
"You're nuts," he tells me. Leaning against him I lean my head back to smile. "And you're so pretty" he adds.
"Thank you," I say. I want more of this... not the compliments per se, but the snuggling, the simple everyday-ness of relationship. Can we do this?
The show ends and we make our way upstairs. "Undress me, please."
"What? Why?"
"Don't act all put out... just unzip me. See, right here," I tease. "I like it when you do this. It makes me feel sexy." And down goes the zipper so I can step out of the lovely, red Karen Millen so he can hang it up on a hook in the bathroom.
He stands back taking an intense long look with his big green eyes. "Follow me... over here," he says grabbing my right hand. He stands me up against the bed with its covers pulled back to the foot and removes my leopard-print bra and panties. "Lay on your back across the bed." I assume the position looking up at him wantonly. What started in New Orleans has become a mainstay in our lovemaking, even in the off-again, on-again drama of summer.
I stare up at him, hungry... turned on. I bite my lower lip in anticipation not unlike that fictional girl in Seattle. "Close your eyes," he demands. I inhale deeply and close my eyes as he climbs on top straddling me. My hands graze his obliques. This almost 50-year old puts guys half his age to shame. "No... put your hands back on the bed."
Ever the dutiful lover I acquiesce because yielding to him brings me such delicious joy. Snapshots from last night zip through my brain as they did on the drive to Austin Dinner Club earlier. We're laying in bed expressing how we've neither one ever experienced sex like this. It is truly the best sex of our lives.
"Lift your head," he instructs. Something soft and fuzzy is placed over my eyes. Will he tie my hands to the corners of the bed this time too? He speaks before I can finish my thought. "Bring your legs up over your head, spread eagle." R gently grabs my left foot and secures it with a satin-type of strap. I test the knot only to meet heavy resistance in the sound of the chaise lounge. Grabbing my right foot he secures it with an equally strong knot. And there I am, all bottoms up and slightly vulnerable wondering what he has in store.
"I am going to fuck you really hard now. Are you ready?" he asks. I hesitate as I hear the magic wand spring to life. "Are you ready?" he repeats with a little zap of the wand on my clit.
"YES," I hiss between closed teeth. Will I ever grow accustom to the intensity of sensation from this particular piece of equipment? R reaches for my hands, telling me to take control of the wand without ever saying a word. At the helm of my own orgasmic destiny I place the wand exactly where I need to maximize the pleasure about to ensue. R then moves his hands up the length of my legs to my feet and back down my calves to my ham strings.
He squeezes the back of my legs in a gentle, massaging fashion as a preamble to gripping my ass, right thumb finding its way just inside my introitus. He lingers there 30 seconds, then a minute. "Now, please!" I beg.
"Shhh... I'm in charge," he declares. "In fact, I want you to turn over." He quickly unties my feet and turns me on all four. "Remember this," he whispers in my ear as he returns the wand to my hands. "Now come back just a little." With his hands back on my hips he pulls me back and without a word thrusts himself deep inside. I open my legs slightly to lower myself down further onto the bed. We find our rhythm after another adjustment or two and here we are, making love as we have come to define it over the past five months.
I maneuver the wand within inches of a climax but it eludes time and time again. Ever observant and in tune with my own needs in bed, R suggests a return to my back. He helps me turn over and removes the cover from my eyes. "Hi," he says softly bending down and deeply kissing me.
"Hi back at you," I return. He lays on top of me, cock at the helm as we stare at each other like we have countless times before. And suddenly there it is, connection... the reason I keep coming back. In the distance a familiar sensation builds in intensity as muscles contract and find their release. My body tingles all the way down to my toes not unlike our first morning together last March.
R smiles sweetly at me and just like before he reassuringly says, "again." Surrendering our eyes lock and emotion finds its release as well. Two weeks before R told me he couldn't allow himself to fall in love with me. Does he feel the same now? Can he step out of his story to see the potential in US?
We fall asleep once more in each others arms but not before discussing plans to have dinner at my place when I return from New Jersey on Friday. I want to believe we're on the road back to relationship. I want to believe this is more than just sex. I want to believe that he's the man I want, the man I need. I want, I want, I want.
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