A Full Heart and Sore Parts, AKA an Awesome Week With My Lovah

I have had a truly incredible week with Al here.

We went to movies, heard some live music, watched a lot of Netflix, danced in the kitchen and had so much sex we are both walking bow legged.  Like cowboys. 

We discovered some truths: like other people are overrated, so we hunkered down and went days without conversing with others except for the daily kid texts.

Al said, “My mission for the week is to find new and unique ways to get you off.”

I swooned and batted my eyes.

 

The room reeked of sex.  The bed was a rumpled mess.  We took a bath in the big jacuzzi every day.  With bubbles.  And champagne. We took showers together every day. We had to wash all that DNA off so we could start over.  The difference with sex with this man, is that we always make love.  Even if it gets raunchy and upside down and inside out with headstands thrown in, as soon as our eyes meet again we are kissing and tasting and making love.  I ain’t never had that before.  We also have a talent for starting on one end of the bed and then when it’s over we find we are somewhere else entirely.  Like the kitchen.

 

 

He said many, many beautiful things to me.

I said ‘ditto’ because I’m lame.

We went out for one meal every day and made out standing in every parking lot. People pointed.  It must be funny to see ahem, mature people make out, gray hair and droopy boobs be damned.

I didn’t remotely care. I am so in love with him.

When I forget after a few weeks of being apart again, please feel free, dear readers, to remind me. Because you know how I am.  I’ll get the fade and get mad and resentful that this is a long distance relationship and I’m not able to have him all the time.  I’ll pout and stamp my foot and get snippy on the phone.

Spank my ass and call me stupid.

The week flew by, and we spent nearly every minute together.  Not one of those minutes did I wish he was leaving.  Yesterday at 3 pm, I came back on nest duty.  He was here with the kids and I until he went back to his hotel at 11 p.m.  It was awful and he was only a mile away. Today his flight leaves at 4. As he says, we are milking every second of this bitch. Still it is not enough.

Ironically, while I was getting my groove on, I was asked if I would be part of a series writing on first sexual experiences and I said yes. I spent a few quiet moments thinking of how I was going to write about it when the person who deflowered me, the taker of my virginity, the popper of my cherry, was lying nekkid beside me.  In addition, although he was my first, he wasn’t necessarily the most significant sexual relationship I had as a young woman.  We went years and years without talking and in those years, I was, you know…dating.  He got married, so he wasn’t having much sex.  Hardy har har.. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings in any way, of course, since we had been having a love fest and God knows, he is the best lovah and most significant relationship of any kind I’ve ever had. But I wanted to write honestly.  I always try to write honestly.  Because, really, if you can’t talk about sex honestly with an internet full of strangers, who can you talk about it to?

 You can read my story here.