Author's Note: Another section of my writing tribute to my friend and fellow Litster. There will be several segments of this, and they are written in chronological order, so it would be best to read them in order. I hope you enjoy it!
There's nothing quite like making love to you; at least not in all my time on this earth. Not that all we've done is make love; sometimes, it can't be described as that. It's, pardon my Greek, fucking. Bone-jarring, senses searing, thundering fucking. And again: Nothing like it in this world.
But we've got more than that. This time spent exploring each other and the far corners of our libidos really doesn't encompass all that we have. I can tell that already. There's something deeper, sweeter, richer.
That's what's going through my mind, sitting on the swing on the porch, looking out over the valley, and off towards the mountain. Because whether we're holding hands, walking out to the waterfalls, laughing together hysterically in a restaurant, making every one look at us, or just sitting in chairs with our feet in the cold water of the Little River, there's...more.
Inside, you're taking a shower. I left you alone after your well-earned nap this afternoon; how many times can a woman blow her man's mind in one day? I think you're on a good pace to see just how many times it can be done. I came out here to sit; beautiful day for it, still a bit cool, but not uncomfortable. I left the door standing open, thinking to let the mountain air give a refreshing to the cabin. That's how I heard you heading to the shower. I'm tempted to go and join you; I don't think you'd mind, but I know it's been rather intense the last 2 days, so I give a lady a little private time.
I'm lost in thoughts of you, us, the wonder of how we got here, when you emerge onto the porch. Your hair's still wet, and you're wearing one of my dress shirts. If you have anything on under that, I can't tell...yet.
"So, I found you..." you say, as you come and stand before me. The shirt parts, and I can see that the only thing you have on beneath it is a pair of lacy white panties. "Were you trying to avoid me? Am I intruding?" you ask. I look up at you and smile. You asked it lightly, but I think you were trying to suss out whether I needed some space. Funny; we both think along the same lines, caring for each other even if it meant being apart for a little while.
"Why, yes, you are intruding. You're intruding on my dreams, intruding on my every thought, intruding every desire I have; in everything I think about, there you are," I reply, as your beauty fills my eyes and my heart. "And for the life of me, I cannot seem to summon even an ounce of resistance. I'm afraid you've completely overcome my defenses."
"Hmm," you say, as you sit on my lap, causing the swing to begin to rock. "I've never had my own captive bear before. What does one do with a captured bear?" you ask, your arm going around my neck and shoulders, your head resting on mine.
"Well, you know, if you're a captor, it means you take responsibility for your captive's well being. You'd have to keep him fed, give him a place to stay, a place to rest his head at night."
