I woke in the middle of the night in a hot sweat. I was laying on my right side with Lover curled up behind me. I felt his right hand resting underneath the pillow cradling my head, while his left lay nestled between my breasts. I was afraid if I shifted too much I'd wake him, so I slowly peeled myself from his hot skin and headed to the kitchen for a glass of ice water.
We were staying at a small cottage that opened onto a private lake. An occasional vacationer would go by in a canoe or kayak, but motorized boats were strictly prohibited for ecological reasons.
The cottage was covered in various pine and fir trees, and I loved it, like I love most places that we venture to together. For being "out" in the woods, we had a lot of amenities including inside plumbing with enough water to fill an old cast iron tub in the bathroom, a stove, refrigerator, phone and the owner of the cottage was very proud that he'd just put in Dish TV. We didn't have the heart to tell him it probably wouldn't get used the whole time we were there.
I stood in the kitchen drinking my water and looking out the large picture window in what should have been the breakfast nook. Instead, two large recliner chairs fit comfortably at the window. They were great for both reading on a rainy day, or, as I found out earlier, making love with me straddling Lover. We were laughing and talking during sex, which is something you do when you finally become comfortable with one another. The lust is still there, but it becomes playful and knowing and no longer exploratory.
We were laughing and kissing and yammering on and on, when Lover looked over my shoulder and saw another couple in a canoe on the lake. He twirled halfway around in the chair so that I was facing the window. I could see there was no way they could make out what we were doing, but the idea of them seeing my breasts bounce up and down while we fucked brought me to orgasm immediately.
When the rain finally left the area around dinnertime, it left behind a humidity that was unbearable. We both took cold showers and crawled into bed naked. It was too hot for sex. Too hot to think of anything but getting to the morning, when hopefully, the weather would improve.
But here I was at 3 a.m., standing in the kitchen reminiscing. And it was still too damn hot.
I put my cup down on the counter and walked naked out onto the porch. The air wasn't moving outside either. I walked down the four porch steps and made my way to the dock.
There were no clouds in the sky, so every star in the universe was out and the moon lit up the water to the point where I could make out a rowboat tied to a dock at a cabin across the lake.
My naked skin felt bloated from all the sweating. So I did what any normal person would do; I dove into the water. The water rolled over me. It was refreshing and sexy, and even better it was a very cool 70 degrees. I rolled over onto my back and floated for a while. I could feel my breasts bob peacefully and the water move through my pubic hair in tiny waves. I stared up at the moon and listened to the bubbles from under the water. I was so distracted that I didn't hear Lover approaching.
"How is it?" he asked.
I pulled my head out of the water and started treading. It was a good 10 feet deep just 15 feet from the shoreline. "It's a lot better than sweating all night in that bed," I said.
"Hey, we sweated in that bed last night just fine," he said putting his toe in the water to test it. "I didn't hear you complain about it then — and that went on for h-o-u-r-s."
The corners of my mouth turned up in a half smile. He was being charming and fishing for gratitude for helping me discover and master the world of multiple orgasms and female ejaculation with a partner. But I'm a pain in the ass, so I ignored his hook. He'd have to seek compliments some other time.
"The water is pretty cool," he said lifting his foot out of the water. He was staring at my breasts with great appreciation. I leaned back and went into my float again, so he could have a better view. "Your nipples look happy in the moonlight," he said. Then he dove into the water to join me.
When he surfaced, he approached me, so I started treading again. "Let's move closer to shore," he requested. He swam until he could touch the bottom and keep his head out of the water from the shoulders up. If I touched the bottom, it was still over my head, so I put my arms around his shoulders, kissed him and wrapped my legs around his back.
"This is nice," I said in between playful openmouthed kisses.
"I agree," he replied.
One of his hands was on my ass, while the other toyed with my nipples. Even in the cool water, I could tell he was turned on. "Is there a time you're not in the mood?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I'm not in the mood—" he said. "Whenever you're not in the mood. And I've never known you NOT to be in the mood, ma biche. You get worked up just about everywhere: airports, cottages, bedrooms, public restrooms, cars, botanical gardens, kitchens, rooftops, weddings, restaurants, docks, forests, dining room tables..."
I rolled my eyes and put my hand over his mouth to stop the list of places we'd fornicated. "So what will happen when you tire of me and my ambitious libido?" I asked.
"I've been asking myself about you tiring of me since day one," he said kissing me up my jaw line. "That was almost a decade ago," he whispered rubbing his left thumb over my right nipple. I tightened my legs around his waist to a death grip in response. He backed off slightly but traced the fingers of his right hand down my neck as he spoke. "Want to know the first time I knew I wanted to make love with you?" he asked.
It was unusual for Lover was offer personal insight, unless he was trying to goad me into trying something new and sexually deviant, so I nodded eagerly.
"It was that time we met up in California. You were there for a conference. It was maybe the second or third time we saw each other in person—"
"I remember," I said.
"You had on these tight jeans and a revealing shirt," he said. "We met at that little restaurant for a drink. I walked in and saw you sitting alone because I was terribly late. You had grown out your beautiful, blonde hair and were sipping on a martini and nibbling off of a cheese plate. The restaurant was small and quaint — romantic, really. The lights were dimmed with candles on the table and mellow white party lights on the wall," he said. "When I walked up to the table, you tried to leap out of your seat to give me a kiss and a hug. But you didn't have that kind of coordination left, because I was an ass and was so late that you were on your third martini."
"Yeah, I remember being a sloppy drunk," I responded.
"It was good. You so rarely let go of your proper self early on. It was one of the few times that you let everything come out of your mouth. I got to see a lot of things through your eyes. I saw how you looked at me. And although you were feeling quite overwhelmed as a new parent and not knowing where you fit into your own life, you seemed so confident to me. Like if someone had given you a list of either/or choices, you'd know exactly which ones you needed to make for yourself. As I walked you back to your hotel, all I could think about was pulling you into one of the side alleys and taking you right then and there. Instead, I gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and dropped you off at the door to the hotel.
"Yeah," I said. "I wanted to kill you for it, too."
