Happy Valentines Day 9

2:43 AM. Still three hours before the alarm.

A clap of thunder sounds and I awaken with a start. I realize that I am sweating, then I remember my unpleasant dream. Rain pelts down on the windows; the sound is hollow and grating, like the laughter of a demon. I am lost, alone with my dark thoughts. I am dying.

A touch. Your hand caresses my back: soft, gentle, reassuring. I smile, remembering that you are with me tonight. The storm forced the airline to cancel your flight, and you came back to be with me again. It was not an easy trip back home, but you came, looking like a drowned cat when you walked in the door. I cried with joy, and so did you.

"You should stay at the airport. It's too far to come all the way back home in this storm," I had told you on the phone. You said that you already had a hotel room. Liar.

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed, then started to cry. It is that time of the month and I cry at everything. You know that so you just kissed me and cried with me.

Now we are warm and dry and you are rubbing my back and I am loving you with all of my heart. Your hand reaches around to caress my breast and I allow it full access. Hell, I welcome it with open arms. I turn to face you. Because of your touch I am no longer lost, no longer alone.

Now we are kissing. Our special kisses. I am using my tongue in the way that always gets you crazy horny. You are playing with my nipples then the undersides of my breasts then around to my back and again and again and I am going crazy with love and desire. And we feast on each other like we will never stop in all our lives.

All of a sudden we do stop, like someone hit a cosmic pause button. It's so dark that my eyes can barely make you out, but my soul sees you in Technicolor. "Are you ok?" you ask.

"I am dying," I reply.

"Every day brings us both nearer to death," you respond, "how do you want to live?"

"In you." I am crying again. I hate this time of the month. You take my hand and put it on your heart.

"You are in me," you reassure me, "that's why you married me, remember?" That does it. The spell is broken. You can always make me smile.

"Oh yeah," I giggle, "I almost forgot that I had a wife."

"You fucking better not," you warn, "I'm only doing this once in my life."

"I love you so much," I tell you, unnecessarily, "You came all the way back here to be with this head case of a wife that you have."

"And your point is?" you ask.

"You shouldn't have. I would have been ok," I am lying my ass off, and you know it. I do have to give it the old college try, though.

"Uh huh," you reply, knowing that I am lying and that I know that you know.

Then we are kissing again, back to our special kiss. I can tell that you are starting to get jumpy, starting to want it badly. Now my mission is to make you insane with desire.

The neck. Little nibbles, gentle licks and, now, a soft tongue around your ears, and I feel your nipples go do diamond hardness in my fingers. I begin gently tugging them, urging them to lengthen further. You do the same to me. We are milking each other. I want to nurse you so I pull your head down to my breast and you suckle. Gently, eagerly, urgently.

Now it is my turn and we reverse roles, changing from mother to daughter, finally settling on friend, lover—wife.

By unspoken agreement we reach downward at the same moment, finding each other wet, open and desperate for our union. I am quicker, though, moving my mouth from your nipple, licking and nibbling my way down your beautiful tummy, down, down, down toward the squirming hips.

I have arrived and you are opening for me. As we arrange ourselves I wonder how many times we have danced this ballet together. By now it is beyond counting or caring except that we move with the practiced ease of a couple who know who and what they have wanted all their lives.

And you are mine. Delicately I begin to lick, pretending that I have never done this, exploring you as though you are new to me. You allow me to amuse myself for a few moments, but then your hands grasp my head, guiding me, and I know that you have reached your limit. It is time, my love.

I use my hand to open you, gently pulling back your hood so I can access the crucial spot. It is as always: slow and gentle, just the way you like it. Soon you are beyond knowing or caring about anything except my tongue. Your hands fall away from my head as you yield and lose yourself completely. You begin to thrust your hips, and I know what to do.

My other hand moves to your opening, and I gently insert a finger. I listen. Your moans tell me that a second is required and I obey. Again I listen. Yes. This is perfect. I slowly work inside you, feeling upward and inward. Your g-spot beckons, swollen. I smile to myself at how easy it is to find yours—and how mine is nearly impossible to locate, except for your magical female GPS. Well, that is one difference between us.

Now I have you. You are trapped between my tongue and fingers and there is only one exit. Your back is arching and your hips are lunging as you search for it. I hear you gasping and groaning, praying for it. Don't worry, my love, I will guide you. Relax, darling. It...is...right...

HERE. And you are there. Gone from this world into your special place.

As you fall back, still gasping for air, I retrieve the pillows and rearrange the covers over you. I take you in my arms and you nuzzle into my breasts.

"Are you back?" I ask.

"Barely," comes the muffled reply. I hold you and we breathe in each other's scent. I close my eyes and feel your presence.

You stir, rousing us both. "I'll be right back," you say, heading for the bathroom. I doze off, waiting for your return.

Kisses. Am I dreaming? The touch of your hand on my clitoris sends an electric current pulsing through my body and I am wide awake. "I want to kiss you," you tell me as your fingers begin their magic circles.

"You know you can do whatever the fuck you want with me. I'm yours, body and soul," I sigh. And then I cannot speak or think or do anything except be loved by you.

There are our tongues and lips and there is the magic of your hand and there is...oh God. I feel like a balloon that is being blown up, getting larger and larger. Now I am floating off the bed, hovering in the air, bouncing around. And you keep pumping me up, making me bigger. I cannot hold all of you. I want to tell you that you must stop or I will burst, but no words come out.

I cannot stop this. Oh God, I don't want to stop this. You are blowing me apart.

I am...

I was...

Through my ecstatic oblivion I marvel at how this only gets better and better for us. And how we will die together over and over forever and ever. Amen.

Now I am nuzzled into your breasts, and you are caring for me. You stroke my hair as you always do when you want to know if I'm awake. I nod and lift my head. The clock glows on the nightstand.

3:26 AM. A lifetime just passed.