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Section 1
Their bodies met in a familiar rhythm, a happy goodbye and reunion with each movement, the cycle repeating. It was like how they always had endless goodbyes and warm reunions.
The earnest musical calls to worship rented the humid coastal air and the fan blowing around the room roused him from sleep before even the birds got chirpy. He woke up with a semi and didn’t bother to wonder for too long if she still had it in her to get him all bothered so early in the day like that. He brought her in with a warm gentle embrace and she smiled in her sleep. Wait. Was she even asleep? Ha!
She had nothing on under her dera and he knew too damn well what would happen if she adjusted herself onto him. Before his train of thought got to the station, she ran her left hand over his chest brushing his nipple ever so gently and her right ear on his chest. He lowkey wondered if she could tell his heart beat had gone up a bit.
See, this is the very woman he would act a fool for and not mind it for a damn minute and right now he had every sense not to engage this gear if it meant running of a cliff because there’d be no brakes with all those curves. He thought it through. How he’d worship her most intimate places, listen to her beg for it.
This threw him back to when it was all good between them. When the spark was not only the embers they are trying to ignite now but something that would start a wildfire. When nothing else mattered in the world as long as they were together. When they could not get their hands off each other and would kiss with no excuse at all but the love that burnt between them without caring who was around.
The nostalgia rushed in like a fever and left him with a shiver. She peacefully slept there with little care in the world and her peace, was his peace. He’d have easily watched her till dawn broke. Then, and now even more. Could it be possible that love never really dies? Just like energy, it evolves and we either adapt and grow with it or we miss it altogether.
He lay there questioning whether staying as friends would be the best course of action or just risk it all and ask to date her again. This time maybe, not let her kiss his nervous ass first like what seemed not so long ago when she first said yes. When her eyes were his wormhole. When their love was a rabbit hole to Wonderland. When the passion was like a raw wound. It hurt sometimes but that is how you knew you were alive.
One touch from her aroused so much desire. He just wanted to consume her whole. Have her cakes and eat them. Feel that first time he entered her and her gasp for air as if he had taken her breath away. Her tongue on him in a way that made him lose control. How he sunk his head in the pillows when she touched him like that so that the neighbors wouldn’t know her name.
There is something about being on top and giving up all the power. She would take control and lean in for a kiss, and it was the intensity that got her palms off his chest and onto the wall. She would break the kiss too, and it was as if that breathlessness would give him some kind of kick. He drove deeper and varied the tempo after every stroke.
Their bodies met in a rhythm of joy, each movement a reunion. Her inner muscles gripped him tightly, and he always knew to think of something mundane to last longer because her warmth made him want to give in. She loved it when he’d groan out a ‘fuck’ under his breath and she knew she could drive him wild.
He also knew one touch of his tongue was all it took to have her lose control. One combination of his fingers and lips would bring her to the edge. To some level they were even but each somehow lowkey knew that while they were each other’s weakness, that was their strength. Goddamnit love can be so bittersweet that you would sometimes wish it would bitch-slap the taste right out of your mouth. Is it so bad to want it though? From a person that feels like home much less. From a person that doesn’t have to do much to make you smile. They just exist and you find yourself telling them how you love how they breathe.
Their pinky finger crosses with yours almost instinctively. You always want to spend time with them even when it means there is no sex involved. One hour with them feels like 10 minutes and you live the whole 10 minutes looking forward to the next and hoping it will feel like 20 when it comes. It ends in premium orgasms more often than it ends in premium tears. Call it a premium package.
Their breaths now matched and the fan hummed his thoughts and sent them out with the breeze. His arousal had not subsided yet and it was not getting left behind. He wanted to act before the morning fully arrived so bad but… He had one massive bout of overthinking that sent him over the edge. What ifs and what if nots that would probably end in chest pains.
The alarm came on and she casually woke up to turn the nuisance off. She got more snuggly and warmer. Her soft body curving itself around his chiseled one in a sweet cuddle. Their toes touched and did a dance. A tango and if they’d lock like fingers do, they would light up that morning brighter than that first ray that was already trying to sneak in in the quiet of the morning.
His hand went down her shoulder and felt a bit of side boob. They were still as soft as he’d remember them. The squats were paying off. It was all soft bends and curves and his fingers were running around them in an endless marathon. The circuit always ended somewhere on the small of her back or at the bottom of her bum with a lift so that her lips would catch some of the morning breeze.
She moaned a little and squirmed where she lay. Her breathing got heavier and it all started coming back to her. The floodgates were opening and there was no stopping it. All the spillways were overwhelmed with yearning for his love. Even if for one more time. Because there is hardly a way that would have been the last.
Her hips betrayed her every sense to stay her emotions till when she was sure this is the path she wanted to tread. She moved them round and round and with every gyration, his fingers neared her already ready center. She welcomed his touch. He paused upon entry to feel her warmth. He explored her gently, his fingers moving in circles, and she was fully awake by the second cycle.
Her lips were wet and ready and he kissed them deeply. Her warm breath hit his upper lip and raised every hair on his body. His fingers found her most sensitive spot and she moved against his hand with need. His fingers worked their magic while his hand held her close.
Her dera by now was up to the waist and the hems were holding onto dear life because her thick thighs were parting faster than it would allow. She wanted to get on top now and they had to get her underdressed for the party. The dera went up and her breasts bounced back down in glee, happy to see him. His left hand went for her tiny waist and pulled her in with a kiss to her breasts and he dwelled there.
Her body was overwhelmed by now because so many of her pleasure points were being stimulated and there was little defense against his wizardry. She took his hand away and guided him to her, letting him feel her readiness.
She was ready and even more eager at the prospect of having all of him inside her. The thought drove her crazy and she held back for a bit, reminiscing on when they first made love. The first touch and how she moved against him. When she only allowed a teasing touch.
She did just that for old time’s sake and eventually guided him inside her. He was still large for her and it took some adjusting to enjoy the sensation without discomfort. He was eventually inside and she paused to process the feeling. Once her body recognized him, she began to move, letting herself welcome him fully.
She rose and fell, taking him deeply. She tried again, and this time she was ready enough to move with him. It got too much for her and he lifted her, positioning her for deeper intimacy. He drove into her with passion. She braced herself on the bed because she was overwhelmed by the pleasure.
Her mouth was open and her lower lip was hanging like a ripe fruit itching for a bite. She kissed back with fervor and he slowed the rhythm down to a manageable and sustainable pace. They both did not want it to end. She moved against him, taking him in fully with each motion, a rhythm that was only broken every time a wave of pleasure hit her.
She arched her back and found her release, and he could feel her pleasure intensify. He lifted her again and all they could hear were the sounds of their passion. She could feel another wave coming and he kept the rhythm until the end, then withdrew. They both lay there and reflected on what they had just done. Was it worth the risk? Would she still want it? Was it possible that… Our brains can be overbearing with the overthinking.
The takeaway was that it was important to experience her for whatever little chance he got. Be it a year or two or a short hot night. Both would never really change what he felt and that was what was important.
He wondered quietly where she got the energy to blurt out “Did you miss it…the feel of my skin against yours? My small body under yours? How I smell when I’m turned on? Did you miss me whimpering, begging, a teary mess when you are done pleasuring me with your mouth? My knees weak…my thighs shaking as your tongue continues to drive me wild over and over and over again?
Did you miss us chilling on the couch…your hand between my legs…my body coming alive at your touch?
Did you miss sliding inside me? Getting shocked at how ready I am… gritting your teeth so that you don’t finish after the first 2 strokes?
Did you miss fucking me?”
His eyes told her all she needed to hear.
“I do” is all he could say and pulled her wet lips in for a kiss that left their lips and jaws sore.