Alone in another crowded airport in another foreign city silently cursing the gods of air for the dratted mechanical failure that kept me from you.
God, so close, an hour by air, that’s all that separated us.
So, I sat and I waited and I cursed some more as I softly rubbed my tummy to help calm the butterflies working overtime in there, fluttering their wings in wild abandon, and I had to laugh at myself for allowing that silly bout of nerves to creep in on me. And I can not lie, I was nervous, but the nerves were such a secondary sensation to the intense need I had to see you–your face, a face that’s graced my dreams for more than a year and your eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes that forever hold me captive in sleep.
When they finally called my flight, two hours after it was originally scheduled to depart, those butterflies in my tummy ceased their fluttering because they, like I, knew that in just over an hour, I’d finally meet the man of my dreams.
That sounds fanciful, I know, but you’ve known me long enough to know that I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.
The last leg of my journey to you (and a long journey it was) was rather serene, the plane went up just high enough to oddly accentuate all the fascinating intricacies of the land below, and oh, what a sight it was. The Bay was breathtaking, it was all breathtaking, like a dazzling painting of uninhibited beauty I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
And that was nothing compared to the feelings that washed through me when I walked through the door of that tiny airport hauling my sons silly Batman backpack and saw you standing there waiting for me.
You smiled at me and when I was close enough to touch, you hugged me and god, it felt so wonderful. It wasn’t awkward as I feared it would be, there wasn’t that shyness I expected to feel, it just felt lovely.
And though I didn’t say it then, the way you looked at me while we waited for the rest of my luggage made me feel beautiful. And when I asked you, “What?” (as I did a million times during our week together ) and you said, “I’m just looking at you, you’re rather lovely to look at.” I got all soft and warm inside and at that moment, I wanted so very badly to kiss you right there in front of everyone while we waited for my luggage. Why I didn’t will forever remain a mystery.
The ride to the hotel was somewhat surreal, there you were next to me, all I had to do was reach out and I could feel the warmth of your skin against mine. And your voice, hearing it resonate through the car as we chatted was amazing and wonderful.
Oh, baby, I can’t explain how incredibly delightful it was for me to just be there with you, to be able to look at you and talk to you and touch you–there are no words.
In the week we spent together, we made a lot of beautiful memories, but one of the loveliest for me was the hour or so we spent with each other right after we checked into the hotel.
We didn’t make love, not then, we talked and we touched and we kissed and we teased, but our clothes never came off. And yet, if we’d have continued to lay there exploring each other for just a tiny bit longer I’d have come from nothing more than the sheer pleasure of having your hands on my body and mine on yours, of feeling your lips against my lips and your breath on my skin, of hearing your voice ring in my ears and watching your eyes move over my body. I have never felt so in touch with myself or my body as I did in that glorious stretch of time I spent lying there with you. It was incredibly beautiful, my love, and a moment in time that I will treasure for as long as I draw breath.
By the time we made it back to the room that night I wanted you so badly I could barely think straight. If I’d been thinking straight I would have joined you in the shower instead of lying there alone on the bed thoroughly preoccupied with the intense need I had to feel you inside me.
We’d briefly talked before about how the first time with a new lover can be a bit awkward and fumbly, but from where I was laying, ours was neither of those things, quite the contrary, it was (pardon my language) fucking incredible. You are incredible.
There was more talking and touching and kissing and teasing. Mmm. The slow removal of clothing as our hands moved over each other, becoming intimately familiar with the others body.
And then the unfathomable pleasure of finally being able to take you into my mouth, to feel the hot, hard, velvety smooth skin of your cock against my tongue. Bliss. You have a gorgeous cock, my love, and because you have no qualms being vocal about what you like, I could’ve happily spent hours pleasuring you with nothing but my mouth.
And the thrill of watching you dip your head down to ease your face between my parted thighs, feeling your hair brush against the sensitive skin of my thighs and your breath flutter across my aching cunt just before you leaned in to taste me. Ecstasy.
And, god, feeling your body rub and press against mine as you slid up to settle between my thighs, your cock gliding through the slippery wetness emanating from my body as you leaned down to kiss me was sublime.
And then you were inside me and I lost myself in you.
For me, it was far more than sex we shared during our time together, but I’m thinking you already know that, and to write it all out would make this post longer than it needs to be. So, I’ll simply say, when I got on that plane bright and early on a Wednesday morning, I was already in love with you, but not even I, the hopeless romantic, could’ve predicted how much my love for you would mature and grow in the short week we had together.
My darling, I love you more now than I did then and less than I will tomorrow. And as a wise man once told me (and if I remember correctly, it happened to be while I was snuggled up in his arms), we can’t predict what the future holds for us, but we have each other now and that is what matters.
Yours,
SD
