Yesterday was fun.
An understatement, of course, but suitable to lead into my thoughts. If one thought of it as a game, my darling partner achieved his victory twice yesterday. Hours of attention just to show me what I mean to him. Yes he achieved his goal, twice.
Today finds me deliciously sore, a dozen or so little bites and bruises constant reminders of his attentions. His neck and shoulders sporting marks all their own, one at his clavicle nearly the shade of my favorite lipstick.
I never expected to wake this morning to his hands reaching for me again, and yet I was tugged close. I was sure he’d be exhausted, and yet in the still sleepy haze of predawn I found his attention back on my body, on bringing me pleasures so gentle, so careful.
Once he was absolutely sure I was sated, he rolled out of bed to make my coffee. Our usual routine.
I asked what he’d dreamed of, to be informed he hadn’t dreamed at all. He wanted to make sure I knew he’d never have his fill of me. 13 years together and his appetite still isn’t assuaged.