First off was what clothes to put on after making my way upstairs. I hadn’t exactly dressed to impress anyone anyway, but thoughts of what had just happened kept flooding back and inspiring what might happen later in my brain. Do I dress up? Fuck, he might think I’m being stupid. Has he even seen me in a dress? Do I go super casual? Well then he’s going to think I just couldn’t be bothered. Tight jeans were never ever gonna happen again around him, that I was sure of. And those softy brushed cotton shirts I usually wore all the time - well there would be no buttons left on anything I reckoned if I went for those. Fuck my life. Ok, think woman, think. It wasn’t too cold outside, so a vest top and a cardigan I loved, soft to the touch but has a tie instead of buttons. Trousers? I can do trousers can’t I? But we’re going for a walk…
”Do I need to come up there and dress you myself?” I hear from the bottom of the stairs. Shit, no, frantically taking in the clothes I’ve now flung all over the room. “Two minutes”, I reply. My name is growled back at me, “you have until I reach the top step.” Well, now, balls. That’s now put a whole other series of thoughts in my head. I grab the first matching set of underwear I find, and ease some super sensitive nipples inside the bra followed closely with attempting to tuck a super-engorged clit into a thong. Vest top on, jeans pulled over ass - then I smell his scent, and suddenly he’s behind me again. I didn’t even hear him coming. I’m frozen to the spot as his arms come around me, my heart racing as I look around the room. “Need some help with this?” as he reaches for the waist of my jeans. I tilt my head back, look up at the smiling face above me as he buttons them one agonising button at a time. Why did I pick these ones? He pulls my top down then turns me around to face him. Good god I’m a mess. “You might need more clothes than that,” he tells me, then kisses me on the nose.
I reach for the cardigan and he takes it out of my hands, holds it to his face and takes a deep breath. “Nope, that’s not it,” he tells me. I’m a little confused now. He holds it open for me and I put my arms through, then quickly turns me around again and examines me, a confused look crossing his face. “It ties at the side, like this,” I show him while I tie the bow, “it’s a wraparound one.” That smile returns and lights up his brooding perplexed face, then a low laugh. “Are you my present then if I get to unwrap you later?” My face turns crimson and my eyes drop. “Come here you,” he says, “I’m only messing with you,” and buries me against him in a hug.
He kisses the top of my head and declares I need socks. That part was easy, so I grabbed them from the drawer and sat on the bed to put them on. and then the strangest thing: he took the socks from me, knelt in front of me and put them on for me. It still churns me up thinking back on it now. Just as quickly, he was up and pulling me to my feet and dragging me down the stairs to get boots on. He went to stand in his, turned and found me in front of him to tie them up. Another sharp intake of breath, I assumed because my head was now hovering at his crotch. Either way, I was happy. I dug mine out of the shoe rack, and by the time I’d turned back he was there in front of me once again, kneeling in front of me to do mine. This was my job… He doesn’t know that yet, obviously, but I’m really not sure what to make of it and not finding it easy to make sense of.
He’s up again, towering above me in a vaguely threatening manner with an impish grin on his face, a darkness to his eyes that I’m beginning to recognise as “lust”. “Can I kiss you before we go, just in case I forget what you taste like?” he asks. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask and pointedly look at his crotch, smiling sweetly as I raise an eyebrow when my eyes return to his. “Kissing you is always a good idea,” he replies before pushing me back against the door behind.
There’s nothing soft about what followed, no soft touch, no gentle caress. That man took my breath away as he mauled me with his hands and mouth and body. I was left under no illusions but that he wanted me. His mouth never left mine, he crushed me with his body, he pulled my legs up and around him as if I were tiny and weightless and held me there while he ground out his want against my core. When he ripped his mouth from mine, he was just as breathless as I was, his forehead against mine pushing my head back against the wood. He dropped one of my legs leaving me on tiptoe to hold myself up as he dragged his hand up to my face across my body. His thumb found my bottom lip, the rest of his hand cupping my face. I felt his eyes open and then he pulls back just enough to see me. “Freshly kissed lips are nice to see,” he tells me.
He’s off me as quickly as he was on me, pulling me forward enough to open the door behind. Jackets had been forgotten, but quickly remembered when the air outside hits us both. I grab mine from the rack, he grabs his from the jeep, and we set off. We bump hips occasionally, getting in each other’s way walking closer than we normally do, laughing softly at the silliness of it all. He asks me questions, lots of questions, asking about the kids, when they’ll be back, how I’ve filled my days, what plans I have. He throws in jokes, snippets of conversations he’s had, who he’s seen in the days he’s been missing and the inevitable covid outbreak and who has it. We meet people out for a walk while the dinner cooks, little kids dragged away from toys for some fresh air eager to tell of what they’ve gotten for Christmas. Smiles and happiness surround us. The route, as always, takes us to the beach, and the mood changes a little. “Do you want to go over?” I ask. “Do you?” is of course his reply. I spend the longest time looking across, seeing the little path that no-one else notices, the slightly worn stone where my footsteps have taken me for years, and more recently him. “I went this morning,” I tell him. A pause, my name again, “you went without me?” I look up to him then, turn to fully face him, don’t even take in who’s around us or notice the cars pass. “I told you I missed you,” I tell him, “it’s where we’ve always been closest”.
He proffers his arm and I take it gratefully, though the tension is still there. We walk on in silence and I miss the distraction of the pupper going across the rocks. We sit, his arm comes around me, he holds my hands in his lap and it’s like nothing has changed. My head drops on his shoulder, but no tears come. It’s like She knows too, She just ebbs and flows like a normal sea does, not screaming at me, not shouting for my tears.
I feel him tense a little, his hand around me starts rubbing my arm. I lift my head to check he’s ok as he finds his tears in this place too. There they are, streaming down his face, but he’s not sobbing like he usually does. Just tears. Hot jealousy rips through me as I remember how he’s talked of his wife, and I can’t help it, not one ounce of it. I still wipe his face, breaking through to him as I do. How did I not notice he’s smiling, I wonder. He looks down at me and kisses my nose, again (not condescending at all, eh?). I must’ve made some reaction to it because he’s laughing at me now. He half turns me into him as he holds me close, then hefts me between his legs and plonks me on the rock in front of him. “She’d like you, you know,” he tells me, “and I think she’d approve of my choice.” I try not to stiffen but of course I do, fucking jealousy is a terrible thing. He pulls me back against him tightly and rocks me softly, “I’ll always miss her, you know that. But it’s like you with the kids. You miss one when they’re not there.” I try so hard to take in his words, try so hard to believe what he’s telling me. Still the doubt is there, and the previous doubts creep back, the “what ifs” of who I am versus who he is.
I lean against him properly and he eases his grip on me, his arms still wrapped around me but soothing me as the tears fall. He wipes the tears, turning my face to him occasionally to plant another kiss on my nose. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks. Wow, where do I begin the verbal diarrhoea of that one… “yes and no,” I try instead. “Ok, so tell me what you do want to tell me first and then tell me what you don’t,” he replies with a steady enough voice that I turn my own head to try and read his expression - I should’ve known, a face created with smiles.
And so it went. I was glad I was faced away from him, I’m sure he did it on purpose. The deep dark doubts of my mind played on repeat in my mind until I got all of the “normal” stuff out, his wife, his grief, my own, my kids. He listened, he thought for a couple of moments and then gave his. Some of his met mine, he reassured me on quite a few of them actually by what he had seen and felt was good and bad, appropriate and inappropriate. I laughed at some, disagreed with others and took on board everything else just as he did. I’ll admit it was easier than I’d expected.
And then silence again, not the comfortable silence I usually had with him, that pregnant silence heavy with weight and anticipation. “And what DONT you want to tell me?” he asked, his arms tightening around me once more. I sighed. The damn tears were back. Do I tell him now and risk him leaving and never coming back? Do I wait a few weeks, months even? Do I live a lie like I always have and hope that he’s “enough” of what I want? “I’m not going anywhere,” his voice breaks it all. Now or never time.
So we sat, and I tried to tell him who I am, what I am, using every analogy I know without talking about actual acts I enjoy or want to try or any of that. I just tell him my “ideal” of a relationship. And what does he do when I run out of words? He laughs. I freeze. I want to run, my heart is racing and I want to run and never stop running. No-one knows who and what I am where I live and here I am on a rock baring my souls to ultimately a stranger. He must have felt the change in me because he stops and holds me tight, this time pinning my legs under his two and holding them against the rock so I can’t move. He drops his head and nudges my hair out of the way, his breath hot against my cold neck. “Is that all you were worried about?” he asks, “I told you, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Now tell me your kinks please, then I’ll tell you mine,” and he sunk his teeth into my neck once more.
And so it went. I have no idea how long we sat there for, not long I’m sure. He didn’t need to tell me which ones we agreed on, his mouth, moans and heart told me that instead. He eventually released me to tell me his, though I got to straddle him and torment him for that part to let him know which ones I liked and didn’t like. I could have spent a lifetime there, our words carried away on the breeze, our secrets sealed with a kiss.
We laughed our way back across the rocks, funny looks from locals as we landed on the sand but kids joined in as we had a race back to the road (I won btw…!). We walked back to the house, him planting me firmly at his side with his arm around my hip pulling me against him as we strolled. And I didn’t care.
Smells of Christmas wafted from the kitchen, the dinner long forgotten but thankfully still not cooked in the oven. A sulking pupper demanding attention as boots and coats were discarded, and yes, he knelt and removed mine once again once I’d removed his (though seeing as he’s now joined this site, he can give his own explanation if he chooses to for that one). It’s something I’m still unsure of, yet it still churns me up thinking about it.
He didn’t leave me that evening. As I stood and prepared dinner for two, he stood behind me asking what I was doing and why. He mirrors my movements as I set the table. He stopped me from having any alcohol, as he reckoned I was drunk enough on other things. He avoided touching me when I had sharp knives in my hand, though whether this was for his benefit or for mine I’m not sure! He asked questions, critiqued my music choices, obsessed over my roasties, exploded cream all over my kitchen in an attempt to whip it, then made me sit while he washed and cleaned up and then complained about how much washing up there was.
When all went quiet and calm, we headed for the sitting room. The smell of sex when I opened the door hit me first, and I stopped dead, memories of all that happened earlier rushing in and making me weak and breathless. He was behind me again, I could feel his smile against my neck, the heat of his body against mine as he breathed me in. “Mmmmm you smell good,” he tells me. Memories of my kinks and his loomed dangerously in my head, a heady want and an utter fear of the unknown. I knew I was trembling, I could feel myself shaking. Suddenly I was the immovable object. “Relax,” he tells me, “I told you I’m not going anywhere”, he says. Not exactly what a girl wants to hear from a giant of a man that she’s suddenly afraid off for telling her the truth of what his deepest darkest fantasies are…
A long low laugh, and he turns me to face him. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to. First rule,” he tells me. “There are some things I won’t be able to do to you that you want me to, and you can’t make me. Second rule,” he tells me. I blush and smile all in one. “We’re not doing anything until we go feed the horse. Third rule,” and now I’m heartily laughing along with him, having totally forgotten about the poor animal. “And tonight, I just want to stay and be with you,” his eyes drop this time, “if that’s ok with you?” It’s my turn to make his eyes meet mine. “Yes to all,” I reply.
He has a terrible habit of launching me up to his hips and holding me there while he kisses every thought out of my head, and that’s where I found myself, wrapped once again around him as he repeats one of his kinks “freshly kissed lips before we leave the house.” This one I definitely agree with, though it’s incredibly difficult to stop at just that. Unceremoniously plonked back on the ground, off we went to feed the horse.
(Sweet man, I know you’re reading this. Ive given up on proof-reading, just so you know…!)