Days End

God, what a day.  I'm tired, life sucks.  I let the door slam behind
me and lean against it, eyes shut.  I open them and look around to
see him smiling at me over a book from my favorite chair - large,
sturdy enough to plop on and comfy enough to make plopping worth it. 

"You ok?"

"Ugh. Tired."  Can't frown at him.  I smile.  "I'm glad you're here. 
How are things with you?"

"Hmmm."  Now I'm grinning.  He always does that - like it requires
thought, doing a quick checksum of the day before replying. "All
right."  

"Good".  I drop down my purse, take off the coat, throw it on the 
couch.  Stand on one foot and then the other to take off my heels.
Nice.  Back on solid ground.  They're nice shoes, though, so I set
them carefully on the floor before stretching.  The tension's
leaving, taking some of the tiredness with it.

I wander across the room to him and lean over, bracing myself on the
arms of the chair looking directly in his eyes.  Don't want to throw
my back out.  He looks up from his book again.  "Yes?"  

"I miss you when I'm gone."

His smile is deeper now.  He puts the book down.  "I miss you too." 
He leans forward and gives me a quick kiss.  "I made spaghetti sauce.
Want some now?  I just need to cook some noodles."  I start kissing
him on the temples, by his eyes, on his cheek.  "Nah".

"Mmm" he says.

My back won't go out in one second.  I let go of the chair and pull up
the sides of my skirt enough that I can kneel on top of him, my legs
on either side.

"Yes?" he asks, a bemused smile on his face.

"Do you mind?"

Wide smile now.  His hand moves to cup my cheek for a moment.  "No".

"Okay".  I kiss him, quickly, then pull back and giggle.  He's
giggling too. I lean forward again and we begin kissing.  No rush. 
How many different ways could we enjoy a kiss?  Our hands start
exploring, lightly, then hugging tight.  His hands on my back slip
under my sweater, then around to the front, feeling my breasts
through my bra.  I unbutton his shirt.  My hands and mouth play with
his chest, his hands move to my rear, then down my legs.  Using one 
hand on play with one of his nipples, I lick the other, beginning to
suck.  His "mmmm" sounds good, his arms move to hold me tight.  I feel
him kissing my hair as I move to the other nipple, my hands moving to
his buttocks.  "Hey", he says, "my turn".  He lifts up my sweater, I
take it off.  He kisses my breasts above my bra, through the lace.  I
stroke his back and kiss him on the mouth.    

His hand reaches the bottom of my skirt, slips under, then moves up
the side. I feel it stop at the stocking top.  A finger slips under
the stocking, moves over to the garter.  "Garter belt?"  Surprised.
I'm smiling.  Gotcha. I kiss his forehead. "Mmm-hmm".  His hands move
up, exploring my legs, his mouth on my breasts.  I'm too busy feeling
to do much, but I won't let go of him either, my hands stroking his
back and shoulders.  His hands move higher.  He's still.  I can feel
his hands on my bare vulva.  I open my eyes, look at him.  "No
underwear?"  It isn't really a question.  I smile.  I begin kissing
him.  "You mind?" He seems at a loss for words. "Umm."  Then : "No. I
don't mind."  I kiss him quickly.  "Good." Then another kiss, longer
this time. 

He moves his hips forward, his hands on my buttocks pulling me down
against him.  "Here?" he asks. I pull my skirt out of the way and
begin rubbing myself against his erection through his jeans. "Mm-hmm"
I say.  "Oh", he answers.  We continue to hold each other, kissing
and hugging, moving in rhythm.  His jeans feel rough on my legs and
vulva.  Eventually I unzip them, and he pulls his jeans and shorts
out of the way.  I feel him entering me, inside me, continuing the
rhythm we had begun earlier, feeling it build.  I push myself further
down wanting more of him.  He arches back, pushing further into me. I
start clenching and unclenching my vagina, gripping him tighter, then
relaxing.  "God..."  he says, pulling me closer.  I hear his breath
in my ear, feel him moving under me.  "Ohh.." I groan.

"Orgasm" is such a pale word for what we experience.  But "come" is
worse.

Afterward he moves over a little, so I sit beside him.  I don't want
to move.  I don't want him to move.  Unless, of course, it's to start
over....


--