Through the Stargate - Response 2
Since late August I'd been thinking about us; about our beginnings nearly 10 years ago. About standing on that street corner desperately wanting to kiss you but instead talking about the architecture of the building across from us.
I'd been thinking about the day we moved in to our first apartment together; then moving in to our first full sized house with a garden, a barbeque, and fruit trees.
About our downstairs neighbour rampaging through the building yelling at anyone who made any noise. And about that same neighbour banging on our door to tell us to have quieter sex; she could hear your moaning through the 10 inch thick concrete slab floor, even with the noise cancelling underlay and thick carpet to muffle the noise of your orgasms.
About driving to the middle of nowhere to buy our first dog and the trip home, you behind the wheel, me with the dog soundly asleep in my lap. Both of us sufficiently worried how the new fluffy addition to our family would adjust to life with us after having been stolen from her real family. Her biological mother, her biological siblings, gone forever.
I'd been thinking about the night you held me as I recovered from the shock of the first big orgasm of my life. And about your brother-in-law making jokes about how good our sex life sounded and how he wished his sex life was as good.
I'd been remembering our early days sitting on your lounge watching Stargate and sharing a big bowl of popcorn and cans of Coke Zero. Then going to bed and making love until the early hours and not worrying about being exhausted the next day.
I'd been thinking about when you bravely suggested we buy a strap-on and then actually going to buy one. Having a dinner date with friends in the city and making excuses as to where we were sneaking off to after dinner. Trying to not giggle like school girls at all the butt plugs, gigantic dildos, and cock rings in the adult toy shop. 'We're adults, this is serious business'. I remember how the shop staff made us feel far less embarrassed about the ordeal.
I remember trying out the strap-on with you for the first time. Both of us feeling awkward, a little squeamish, and self conscious as you figured out the straps for the very first time. The big lilac coloured dildo standing upright between us. I remember feeling embarrassed that I might even enjoy it. I remember thinking it wouldn't be very lesbian of me to enjoy you fucking me with a dildo but then feeling it,
you
, inside me, watching your breasts jiggle as you fucked me. I felt more gay than ever.
I remember us going to the adult toy shop again to see what else we could buy, and going home with a cheap double dildo. I think it was $15, a far cry from the nearly $200 we spent on the strap-on. I think it may have even been for sale as a Hens Party joke dildo. I remember trying it out with you later that night. Again feeling awkward and self-conscious as we tried to figure a way to not thrust too eagerly lest the damned thing come flying out of one of us. I remember getting the hang of it. I remember really, really enjoying it. I remember you really, really enjoying it.
I'd been thinking about all those things since late August. Trying to ignore the physical feelings those memories awoke in me. They're pleasant memories but they kept building and piling up, much the way an orgasm does - a little sparkle of energy in my core. It grows and grows until it consumes my entire being, and then suddenly an electric tidal wave that I can't but succumb to.
In mid September you suggested we watch Stargate again. 'Holy heck,' I thought 'she's reading my mind.'
Each night we'd watch an episode of Stargate and I would be sat there at the other end of the lounge thinking about how we used to do this and what it always inevitably led to. You, sat back on the lounge and me laying in your arms. I felt so comfortable and so safe that I'd fall asleep with you wrapped around me.
The Stargate episode would end, you'd rouse me from my sleep. We'd go to bed and you'd fuck me until I came at least 5 times. You loved watching me - my body, my face - as I straddled you and you thrust inside me until I exploded and then melted on top of you. The lights were always on, so we could watch one another writhe in ecstasy. My muscles were always sore in those days. My legs always like jelly.
Last night, after nearly a month of trying to ignore the desperate churning need to feel you inside me, I decided we needed a bowl of popcorn with our episode of Stargate.
Watching you in our kitchen - making sure the kernels all popped, making sure the salt was evenly spread about the popped corn - drove a surge of need through me. We returned to the lounge with the bowl of popcorn memories and resumed our TV watching. Our dog jealously watching us eat without sharing any of the weird noisy delicacy with her, and me right beside you, our legs touching.
You have a magical way of getting turned on at the mere mention of sex while I always take a week or even a month to warm up. You can go from doing the shopping or washing the dog to having sex in mere minutes, but I need written notice.
You've often told me, 'I'm not horny ... but I
can
be', and then you're stripping off your clothing and reaching for my pants. I, on the other hand, suffer from 'I'm not horny and that's about it'. It's like I need to be horny to even start. You can kiss me and touch me until Bo Peep finds that one last lost sheep, as hard as I try, nothing is going to happen. You could show me all the most sexy things on the planet, I probably won't feel even a tingle. It's like there's connection in my brain missing its mark.
So, when I do feel a spark, I need you to light it straight away. And lately I've felt that spark. It's more like a bonfire, but we'll go with 'spark' for now.
Our episode of Stargate finished. We clean away the popcorn bowl, our cups. Turn the house lights off, call the dog to bed, and make our way to the bedroom.
Taking off my clothes, I feel like you can see through me, like you can see the crackling energy coursing through my body. I quickly jump under the blankets and pull them up to my chin so you can't see the burning light within me.
I lay there next to you, willing myself to say the 6 little words that would put an end to my need: 'I want you inside me'. I've said the words so many times in the past but now, after so many years, it feels clichΓ©d, contrived. I feel betrayed by my body for allowing someone else, even you, to see me so weakened by a need that I can't control.
We lay face to face, talking our usual daily run down and interesting anecdotes before we go to sleep. I can see your face, your gentle eyes, your soft, full lips, the smooth skin of your neck, your strong shoulders, and the top of your chest peeking out from under the covers. I fight an urge to kiss you.
'Are you tired?' you ask me.
'Yeah, I guess I am. It was a long day,' I reply.
'Do you want the light off?' you ask. 'I think I'm going to read for a bit, but I can turn off the light if you want to sleep.'