Rekindling

If the passage “Inevitable” got published, know I understand if no one ever wants to read it. Grief and loss are not exactly fun to read about. His Fantasy parts 2 and 3 are still shelved for the next short while, but we’ve started talking about it again, so I believe it will be soon to come. It’s been a little over a month since my father in law’s funeral, I think. It’s honestly been a bit of a blur. I never put it into my calendar because I don’t want the reminder.

We’ve gone through our first Father’s day, his birthday, and Fourth of July without him, and we’re also going through just a lot of things that had piled up in the house. There have been many tears, some laughter, old stories, and the forging of new memories these last several weeks. We’re all reconnecting and stepping forward into unforeseen paths. We’re going to be okay. Which leads me to:

REKINDLING

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s not like in the movies where the two protagonists humorously/upsettingly go through hardship, grow, and fall back together like they’d never been apart. But, at least in my experience, when you struggle through hardships as a couple and come out the other side, you’re both a little bit different. And while you both changed together, there’s a little bit of learning the new about each other as you learn how to come back together. You’re a little bit stronger individually and as a couple, and you still fit together, but both of your edges just fit different than they did before.

I’m pulled from my musings while folding clothes on top of our bed when Andrew starts kissing my neck from behind. Ooooo! Tingles. A grin stretches my mouth. I try to turn, but his hands on my ribs hold me gently, but firmly as he directs my body to push my front up against the side of the bed.

The smattering of light kisses turn into easy nips and teeth scraping, bringing his beard into contact with my bare skin. I don’t know whether to gasp or giggle. When was the last time we did more than light pecks on the lips and held hands in the dark? I can’t remember. Maybe once or twice in these last horrible several weeks? And this is during the day! One particular nip turns into a firmer bite at just the right spot between my neck and shoulder. It drags a moan out of me. I am firmly in the here and now, and I am ready to go.

Andrew gently pushes me into a forward bend over the side of the bed. We shed our clothing in record time. He steps away for just long enough to lock our door, then he’s back, lightly scraping his short nails in lines down either side of my spine. Was that a bum squeeze followed by a love tap? Yes, indeed.

Happiness and arousal bubble up and out of me in a delighted giggle.

“Are you laughing?” There’s incredulity in his voice.

“Yes! I’m just happ- did you just bite my butt?!”

He’s already soothing the love bite on my buttcheek. “Maaaaayyyybe.”

I try to turn over, but he’s not having it. One hand gently pushes me forward again as the other seeks out my outer lips from behind. He doesn’t usually pleasure me from behind. My theory as to why is two-fold: Firstly, I think he likes to watch me come undone. Secondly, I think from behind puts his hand/wrist in a painfully awkward position. But he also knows that sex from behind is one of my favorite positions. So here we are.

The different angle, the unusual sensations, his lips trailing up my spine, and finally a gentle but firm grasp of my hair at the back of my neck all combine into a cloudburst of pleasure. His fist guides me to gently bury my face in the stack of folded clothing to muffle my moans as he winds me up once more.

His hands move to my hips as he lines up to enter me from behind, but he pauses and pushes my hair aside to reveal the shell of one ear. A light pinch of teeth on my earlobe followed by a sexy growl has my back arching, my vagina pushing back against his erection, a gasp leaves my mouth.

His hands smooth up my ribcage to palm my breasts, pinching my nipples as his tongue plays with my earrings. And the growls, scrapes, and nips! I swear I came again at least once more, and he wasn’t even inside me yet. I can feel his satisfaction in my reactions. It pleases me, too.

Several delightful minutes later, he lets my abused (thoroughly loved) earlobes go, pushing me down into the mattress again. Finally, he’s pressing inside. This time I know I’m orgasming. He’s moving right away; this is no time to let me cool down. Once again, he has a hand gently fisting the hair at my nape, the other alternating between gripping a hip or palming a breast and tweaking a nipple all while he rocks steadily in and out. I can’t help but press back, meeting him thrust for thrust, until I come undone again.

His hands have gradually tightened on their respective places, but the twinges only add to the pleasure. I’d tell him if he was actually hurting me.

I’m muffling my cries into the clothes when I hear his groan and feel his rhythm falter. Perfect. One. Two. Three. Four more long, deep thrusts and I can feel him emptying inside me. His face presses into my spine panting and moaning as I continue riding back onto his softening penis. After a few moments, he stills my hips and pulls out of me with a hiss.

“Aaahhh, that was good,” he groans somewhere around my right shoulder blade, sounding utterly wrung out.

“Uh-huh,” I gasp out. The aftershocks are still rocking through me.

Then we both collapse into giggles. There’s something absolutely naughty about sex in the daytime. Warm sunlight and fresh air make Andrew randy as a cat,and I love it when he takes the lead.

After catching our breath, we surreptitiously make our way to the bathroom for a quick cleanup, then get on with the rest of our Saturday.