Sunday Morning

credit:  http://brain-attackkkk.deviantart.com

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain.  Soft.  Steady.  Soothing.  I opened my eyes to the grey blue light and looked at the ceiling, really listening.  Rolling thunder.  God, I love that sound.  I sighed.  Content.  Almost.  

Closing my eyes, I imagine what would make this moment better.  I would be on my side, slowing waking up, hearing the rain and feeling the rolling thunder in my belly and below.  A slow smile appears on my lips, when I hear you sigh behind me.  I feel the bed move as your warm body spoons mine and I move back against you to be closer.  My ass presses against your cock.  Your strong arm wraps around my body and your hand finds my breast, like a missing puzzle piece, it just fits.  Your lips   place sweet, wet kisses on my neck and travel down to my shoulder, where I feel your teeth graze my skin.  My toes curl, and I push back against you harder, encouraging you.  Your hand and fingers delicately knead my breast and pull at my nipple, making it come to life and pucker in your hand.  I feel your cock harden and I show appreciation by rolling my hips.  Your hand travels down my belly, exploring.  Looking for other erogenous zones.  I open my legs slightly, making the journey easier for you.  Or is it for me?  Your fingers trace over my thighs, teasing me.  Knowing it makes me more excited.  I can already feel wetness and I anticipate when you feel it too.  I know when you do, your reaction slays me every time.  That carnal want taking over your body and mind, and loving that it's me that creates that reaction.  Your fingers find my flower and begin to stoke the petals.  My head falls back against you and you nip my neck.  Then I hear your moan, that moan, reverberate against me when you feel the wetness at my core.  Your fingers slice into me with new abandon, wanting to feel more.  Your thumb pressing against my swelling bud.  You know my rhythm and you play me like a accomplished musician.  I want you, I want more, I roll over to my back giving you better access.  Your mouth finds my nipple, pulling, sucking and wanders up my neck, to my lips.  We kiss, with your fingers deep inside me.  My hand finds your head and and I rake through your hair as you bring me closer.  I come, as lightening rips through the sky.  Your body covers mine like a familiar blanket and I feel your hardness.  But you again, make me wait.  You kiss me on my lips, my collar bone, my nipple, my belly.  All the while your cock teases me, moving against my wetness, stoking my pussy.  I love seeing your strength as your biceps ripple, holding your body over mine.  I whimper, like a spoiled child, as you continue to deny me.  You smile, knowing the wait will be worth it for us both.  Then, after what feels like eternity, you enter me.  There is nothing like that feeling of fullness, completeness, closeness as your cock fills me.  And you make love to me.  My eyes closed, I hear the rain, the thunder, my moans, and your breath quicken as your stroke faster.  My hips push up against you, my fingers running down your spine.  I open my legs wider to get you deeper.  My fingers find my clit and rub in partnership with your cock, and I come, again.  My walls clenching your hard cock dragging you over the edge and you come.  Your body falls onto me.  I love the weight of your body on mine.  Your lips kissing my neck, my nails scratching your back, eliciting tremors through your body.  You slowly slide out of me, a feeling of emptiness occurring.  But you instinctively know and pull me to you, my head on your chest and your arm around my body.  Hearing your heart beat begin to slow, I snuggle into you.  My protector.  My partner.  The sound of the rain, the wind whipping the tree against the window, the thunder slowly evade our senses again.  We sigh.  I'm content.  

Always in my mind.

You are in my brain.  How you got there so quickly I will never understand.  Yet, there you are.  The swiftness of it causes me to be cautious.  Not wanting to reveal my full hand.  Oh, but I want to.  I want to trust you. I want this weird kismet moment to be real and not something shallow. I think I'm willing to take the risk to find out.


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Is it?

Is it the new year? Is it a new age? Is it a new outlook? Is it the realization that there are only about 20 good years left? Is it a new appreciation of being single with no kids and still having no regrets? Is it sick of settling and not willing to do so any longer? Is the work "to do" list now finally shorter than the personal "to do" list? Is it okay not to be CEO but not okay not visiting Paris? Is it okay not to be so cautious but instead be the girl that always has the first instinct to say, why not? Is it okay that the 20 year old girl full of hope and optimism still exists 25 years later? And with as much passion about romance and true love? And yet still deny her? Is it okay to try, knowing that it still may break your heart? Is it taking the "Star light, star bright, The first star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight" out of the equation and not relying on chance but taking matters in your own hands? Is it being a better example for the younger generation I have influence over? Is it finally doing what I want over what I should?  Is it just being inspired again?  It is time for a change?  It is.

Please come again.

I came again moments after you left with the smell of you on my skin. Exhausted and smiling.

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sigh

I am sick of disappointment. Specifically, I am sick of people disappointing me. Why do I allow myself to hope that someone may actually be what they say? It keeps kicking me in the teeth and I wonder why I keep getting up.

Anticipation

I close my eyes and begin thumbing through the images of you from last night. I’ve been doing this so often since you left, the corners are beginning to wear. I took them to bed with me as I closed the door behind you. And today they have been my dirty little secrets, hidden from view, as I went about my day. I’ve been savoring them, letting them stroke my skin and brain. Your voice, a temporary salve to this heat you have created. But it’s you I really crave. Your touch and strength. The uncanny way you can read my mind and know what I want and sometimes can’t admit. Your smile and laugh that are so contagious I find myself smiling as I write this. The tease of what’s to come, of what I know I shouldn’t but want to none-the-less. Rules thrown out the window, but knowing inside, I could not have resisted much longer. Missing you.

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Slow dancing in a burning room

I've met someone new. Actually, more accurately, I've reconnected with someone from my past. We haven't met in person yet, but I love the slow, sly cautious dance we are having as we get reacquainted. Between the emails and the instant messages, there is a subtle undercurrent of potential resting on memories that has my body buzzing. The flirting, both obvious and veiled, includes honest and real declarations, dirty little secrets, wants, regrets and desires. He has given me permission to be completely honest with my feelings without even saying a word. How unlike me. I wonder if I will be required to ask permission for what I want in bed. How delicious. I want to seduce him, I want him to be thinking of our conversations when he falls asleep at night, I want him to check his email so often it distracts him from work, I want him to be focused on the IM screen and just seeing my name pop up brings a smile to his lips. I want him to wonder what sex will be like with me after 26 years of not seeing each other and he only knowing the girl and not the woman I've become. I can't wait for the first kiss. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

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Maybe

So on this "official" day of love, I've been thinking a lot about it. Reflecting on my current situation and the ache it has in my heart. Maybe it's not meant to be. Maybe I'm pushing it too hard trying to make it work. Maybe its only purpose is to wake my mind and body up to the feeling of love again and remind it of all it can be or at least the potential of all it can be. Maybe there is something better around the bend. Maybe...

As he wanders back into my life...

I love the way his skin feels, his shoulders showing too many hours in the sun.

I love the way he he rumbles when you scratch his back, like a bear awakening from hibernation.

I love the way he looks at me with this intense stare when his fingers are slowing lowering the straps to my camisole.

I love way he enjoys his family in the manner so similar to my own.

I love that he likes to read and gives me recommendations.

I love his interest in wine and that he can actually taste the differences.

I love how he wakes me up in the morning, still half asleep his body curling into mine and his fingers finding all the right places.

I love how thoughtful he can be.

I love his love for football.

I love how he loves on his dog.

I love his insecurities and that we have similar shitty pasts.

I love that he is such a good friend to his friends.

I love the way he dances.

I love the way he sucks in my bottom lip when he kisses me.

I hate his inability to accept love and allow good things to happen or is that what I hate in myself.

One of us has to take the first step.

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Smolder

From the latest cadillac commercial:

The relationship you have with your car isn’t so different from your other relationships

Some burn hot and fast but don’t last very long

Some burn for a while but don’t throw much heat

And some, smolder beautifully for a long, long time.

Door number 3 please.

Image

Standing in the dark. Looking outside at the icy landscape. A distant porch light coming through the window making interesting patterns on the walls behind me and I’m sure across my tear streaked face. I’m not even sure why I’m sad. Maybe I have been holding in too much. Keeping strong, emotional and conflicted feelings bottled up inside me, which ultimately and without warning, find their way to the surface in the form of tears. Sitting here hours later, trying to make sense of what I’m feeling, I’m still not sure. It seems as there could be a number of possibilities, and frankly, they all sound trite and sophomoric. I think ultimately I miss my friend. My person I freak out to and that by saying it all out loud with, makes it okay. She is dealing with her own issues in life now, and me, the stronger of the two, doesn’t want to burden her with my baggage. I also miss a partner in crime. A man who gets it, you, and loves you anyway. Funny, they both serve similar interests, but very differently. I need them both in my life. They give me balance. They make me honest. They make me a better person.

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Inappropriate men

Why and how do they find me?

Why does it have be incredible sex?

Why do I want more?

I want more.

The next morning

Waking up with a wicked hangover to find my clothes tossed about the room with complete abandon. Open condom wrappers on the floor. Buttons scattered down the stairs eliciting the memory and the sound of him ripping my shirt open and the buttons dancing off the walls. Bandaids on the counter but no idea why. Several wine bottles on the bar. My sweater tossed over the table. A chair knocked over. His shirt in my bathroom and picking it up and deliciously breathing him in again. Snippets of the shape of his body, how beautiful the silhouette was behind the foggy glass of my shower. Wondering what shirt he picked of mine to wear to work. Laying in bed half covered by the sheet hoping he will stop and come back as he passes me on his way out, he does...twice.

More please.

Thank you Gracie for the perfect image.

What is a safe bet?

I should be in Vegas right now winning. My predictions are spot on. Just a few posts back I dared open up and actually speak about a new relationship. Hinting to its potential and daring to hope but predicting its demise in an embarrassingly defensive maneuver in order to protect my heart and pride. Now instead of the hard press, the daily texts from him wishing me a good day, planning for a date days in advance, hanging out every Saturday for college ball, I get a text that says “I am sorry I’ve been MIA, I’m just trying to figure my life out right now”. And when approached on exactly what this means by asking him “Do you still want to see each other”, as I don’t get hints very well, the response is “I don’t know”. (Sigh) And taken from a writer I lurk after, “It was easy. Love was hard. Love is impossible for me. Sex, though, very simple.”

I get that. I’ve purposely pursued these kinds of relationships since my divorce. I like the power I have in them and the safety they offer. But then I meet someone while my brick wall was undergoing some repairs, and he slips in unnoticed. Now, is he like me? That behind the wall, the moat, and the razor wire, sits a person who is also afraid and wanting someone to take a chance on them? Someone who will be patient, do the work, dig for the prize knowing it will be worth it. Or is he just a standard, assembly line asshole?

Cupcakes

Cupcakes. At 1:30am. I’m making cupcakes for this man at 1:30 in the morning. There are so many things wrong with this. I don’t bake. I like to sleep. I’m choosing, choosing to make cupcakes instead of open another bottle of wine. I’m getting up early, on a Saturday, to meet him and his friends for college football. Which, actually I really enjoy watching. But instead of running by the store and picking something up on my way to his house, I have decided to make homemade cupcakes to bring. And, pull wine from my personal stock and not something from the store. Who am I??