Deep Sexy

While everyone in America was roasting turkeys, baking pies and dealing with crazy relatives, J. and I had the most romantic Thanksgiving ever. My son spent the holiday with his father and his family, so J. and I had an unprecedented four days together, alone. It was a beautiful, beautiful time. We spent it bonding and cooking and making love.

We bonded emotionally, a natural stage in relationships, building intimacy and trust, and this is something I never experienced before. This is how a real relationship develops, in stages. I am living it and observing it wonder and appreciation. I am 48. Learning and living never stop. It’s never over, it’s never too late, as long as you’re willing to take a risk and jump into the fray.

We shopped together, buying ingredients for the meal we had decided on: chicken with forty cloves of garlic, stuffing, salad and wine. Dessert. Condoms. Love.

The chicken was impressive, if I do say so myself. This is one of my favorite dishes. He had never had it so it was fun to surprise him. “This is amazing,” he said, and it was. We ate by candle light, and talked and laughed late into the night. He had to work the next day, but after that we had the whole weekend.

We went to bed tipsy with wine and and fell asleep wrapped around each other. At some point near dawn — he loves early morning sex — I feel his tongue licking me. I wake up with his head between my legs and my clit engorged. Good morning. His tongue circling and his hands squeezing my ass just drove me out of my mind and I came so hard i was shaking — I’ve had so many different types of orgasms with J. — but he didn’t give me a second. He turned me over, grabbed me by the hips pulled me to my knees, and started fucking me with a vengeance. Making me whimper, pumping while deep inside me, and then (bastard) slid almost aaaall the way out of my pussy (just leaving in the head in) and sliding aaallll the way in…slooowly…killing me. I was begging him to go harder, faster, to stop torturing me, but he had his own ideas. Then, finally, he slammed into me hard, hitting me deep and pumping fast, and I couldn’t get enough of him, I was so tight around him, slamming my ass against his thrusts, until I finally started coming, howling into the pillows. I was aware of him pumping me a few seconds more, and then of his kissing my back…and then he went off to take a shower and go to work. I could barely lift my head. I fell asleep.

That night when he got home from work, I was waiting with candle light, dinner and massage oil, and it was all about the blow job, and enjoying him and learning what he likes. Later we were naked on the sofa, having wine and eating cheesecake and I thought, every Friday should be like this. Much later, we enjoyed each other into the wee hours.

“I’m soooooo in love with you,” he said.

My heart.
“I love you too.”

We spent half of Saturday talking, cuddling and laughing in bed, about all kinds of things. I had one moment while we were laughing together in bed when I realized: this is really special. When he holds me, I feel cherished and loved, and he is always there with unquestioning support for everything. He is my cheerleader, my support, my defender…sounds like The One.

I love him in a way that I’ve never loved anyone. It’s just a fact. Like the sun, and the sky and the air we breathe. It is weightless but also…turning everything upside down, as love does.

So of course, now I’m having anxiety attacks and going back to therapy.

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