Blue Sapphires and Salt of the Sea-Part III

sapphire

It is not sex that gives pleasure, but the lover.-Marge Piercy

Looking into her eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

She shyly replies, “Of course I am. Sometimes, I just lose myself though. It’s as if there’s some sort of “soul” to my orgasms, some other power besides mere pleasure.”

Holding her close, he breathes in the scent of her hair. She’s familiar. Warm. She cares. They have an undiscovered history. He wants her, and she, him. Why this insatiable desire? He’s not sure.

Sitting up, she grabs the discarded sheet, while making sure to put the comforter around him so that he isn’t chilled. “It is winter after all,” she thinks to herself as she wraps the sheet around herself and gets out of bed saying, “I’ve got to pee and grab something from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

He smiles contentedly at her when responding, “I’m not going anywhere love,, take your time.”

Smiling, she stumbles back to the bed to give him a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He hears the rush of water as she turns on the faucet to wash her hands. He laughs to himself because he can hear her humming. Then she starts outright singing. Hearing his laughter, she yells “Hey, don’t make fun of my singing! I used to be good, once upon a time,” as she grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge.

He responds with, “you still are good.”

Uncorking the bottle, she walks back to the bedroom and stands in the doorway for a moment. With the light hitting her just right, he suddenly sees her as she used to be when first they met. With his realization, she blushes.

“Come back to bed love,” he whispers.

“I would like nothing better than to do just that,” she responds urgently.

She slides in next to him, and hands him the bottle, a sweet red wine. Perfect. He drinks greedily and then holds the bottle to her mouth while carelessly wiping his chin. She swallows the nectar and swears she can feel the warmth of its buzz spread throughout her body almost instantly. He drinks again before she takes the bottle and places it on the nightstand, after another long pull herself.

Smiling at each other, they kiss and taste the wine on each other’s tongues. She feels his cock harden against her thigh. the kisses become deeper, longer. He places his hand on her left breast and dips his head to taste her erect nipple. She arches her back as her pussy begins to swell and dampen with desire.

Placing her mouth up against his ear, she whispers, “Fuck me.”

He places his mouth on hers and asks, “Why do you want me?”

In response she reaches down between his legs and roughly grabs his hardened organ while saying, “Because I can make you feel like this.”

Sitting up, he leans his back against the headboard as he replies, “You make me feel so much more than just that. You make me feel like I am more, can be more.”

She smiles as she places her legs on either side of his hips and hovers over him momentarily, slowly brushing her clit against his tip in invitation. She kisses him passionately as he enters her.

“I’m going to fuck you slow,” She grunts.

“I’ll let you, for now”, He moans in response.

Moving slowly back and forth, she places her right hand under his chin while almost jamming her tongue into his mouth. He sucks it, while trying to make her move faster. She resists and changes rhythm, starts sliding up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he says.

“So are you,” she coyly says in rhythm to her motions.

Feeling her pulsing tightness slide up and down his shaft, he can’t stand it anymore, and flips her back onto the bed. He waits a moment before mounting her, thrusting hard, because he knows that’s this is the only way she can truly cum.

“I remember you now,” he pants, “Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I remember,” She says in between breaths, her breasts swaying with each hit, “I always loved fucking you.”

Feeling her orgasm crest, he slams into her with each word said, before leaning over and kissing her neck, just before she pulls his hair and screams his name. Her pussy clamps down and holds his cock inside of her as she writhes through another orgasm. He keeps up the constant stroking. In, out. In, out, as she makes sure to move her hips in time with his.

He implores, “Baby, slow down. You’ll make me cum.”

But she only responds with “I can’t help it. You feel so fucking good. I’m going to cum again.”

“Then cum for me love.”

And she does, while being paralyzed by the force of it. Tears leak from her eyes. Showing concern, he slows his movements.

“Don’t you dare stop, I’m not done yet,” she replies.

Her body relaxes as he keeps moving in and out of her. Pinching his nipples, she smiles as he lets out a gasp.

“Do you want to cum inside of me? Is that what you want?” She asks.

He can barely utter the word, “yes.”

“Then do it.”

Grabbing him, she lays him down and climbs back on top of him. She starts to move slowly again, placing her hands in her hair and leaning back while she grinds. He pushes her hips down as far he can, make her move faster. She reaches behind and begins to caress his balls, feeling that they are drawing up. Getting tighter. She smiles because she knows he is so damn close.

“Cum for me baby, cum for me,” She murmurs.

He lets out an intense sound of pleasure, like she has never heard before. It is like music and primal all at the same time. He shudders and releases his essence into her. Laying her body against his, he lazily wraps his arms around her, while caressing the length of her back. She rolls to one side and gently places her hand over his heart. She feels it begin to slow. Though it is warm, he picks up the bottle of wine, leans up and takes a drink. He holds it for her as she takes a sip as well. After he places it back on the nightstand, she leans up on one elbow. Looking him in the eyes, she smiles, while kissing his lips, cheek and forehead and touching his face.

“Can we do it again?” she asks.

He grins and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear before saying, “again and again. For as long as you’d like, love.”

You Were Always my Prayer, and My Promise

Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can’t strike them all by ourselves”
― Laura EsquivelLike Water for Chocolate

As we set up our chairs on the beach, I hear the roar of the Atlantic at our backs. It’s full dark, the end of the summer season, and there’s a chill in the air. We decide to take advantage of the crisp, and brisk night and have friends over. You and the guys build a blazing fire on our little section of beach. We women sit and drink sweet red wine. Watching you interact with the guys makes me smile. You’re so confident in your fire making skills. You laugh easily. I love to see your easy smile light up your entire face.

We’ve known some of these people for years. Others, we  met at the beginning of the summer. There’s wine and conversation. So much laughter. We sit in our short beach chairs around the fire. The flames are high and twist in the gentle breeze caused by the surf. Their colors are copper, crimson and sapphire. The wood is dry and cracks at the intensity of the heat. I lean up against your chest. You hold me close and I’ve never felt more free. More happy. More alive.

I contribute to the conversation. Say something sarcastic and snarky, because it’s what I do. I hear you laugh and it’s music to my ears. I sit up and grab a bottle of wine. I drink right from it, and hand it to you. You take a long pull on the bottle and pass it back to me.  I bury it half way in the sand next to me, so it won’t tip over. I tell it to sit and stay, like it’s a dog. You and our friends laugh.

As the conversation continues, you put your hands in mine. I look down at them and notice that they are like mine. Soft, yet strong. Yours are strong enough to hold a girl that likes to run, but needs a home. A safe place to land. You’ve given me all of that. I’ve given you unconditional love. Something you’ve longed for, but never found. You’ve always loved too hard and gotten hurt. Until me. Until you. Until us, we merely existed. Now we live. For each other. For this, simple little life. On a beach. On the Atlantic.

You ease your grip and I caress your palms with my fingertips. I look into your eyes, and see the blazing fire reflected in them. Along with every emotion you feel for me. I smile at you and my pulse quickens. My body reacts with want, and I blush. You always make me blush. Still. Our friends stop and look at us. Some smile, while others are wistful. There we are on the beach with our friends around a campfire and we’re holding hands. But we’re doing more than that. Our love emanates and flows to those around us. Then I laugh my silly horse laugh and the spell is broken.

I turn to our circle of friends and say something with the word fuck in it, and everyone laughs uproariously. We unclasp our hands, I turn around and settle back into your chest. You put your arms around me, kiss the top of my head and whisper that you love me. I feel the warmth of flames on the front of my body, and the warmth of your inner flame in my back.  I lean my head up, kiss your chin and whisper that I love you. Then I say your name. It slips easily from my lips, like a prayer. Like a promise. You were always my prayer, and my promise.

When the Words Stopped

Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones. 

~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, 1966

Madeline knew one day the words would stop. That Ian would move on. That she would too. Today she decided it was time. Time to put away the love notes and drink a bottle of sweet wine. The autumn air is crisp and it’s close to sundown. She grabs the wine from the fridge, uncorks it and walks out to the end of the dock. She looks at Ian’s words one last time. Then starts folding the pieces of paper into little boats.

She asks herself, “where the hell did I learn to do this, and how come I still remember the process?”

She slugs the wine right out of the bottle. Figures, what the hell, there’s no one here to see her do it. To tell her no. Of course not many men have been brave enough to say that to her. She knows she can be kind of a bitch. Why does that thought bring a smile to her face? After the boats are made, Madeline rolls over and lays on her stomach. Then places the little boats in the water. The setting sun is the color of butterscotch and it makes her pale skin glow. Her fingers become chilled by the lake water, but she keeps them in it all the same.

Once the letters have all set sail, Madeline sits back up. She takes her shoes off and dangles her painted toes in the water. Her foot touches on one of the boats and pushes it further away from her. She thinks of Ian, and all of his great words. All of the sweet, sexy, dirty and sometimes hurtful things he said. Some of the words are hers too. She tries not to think about him. What he meant to her. All the wonderful things they said they would do. Really, it was her that said what they would do. He just went along with her plans.

He’s where he’s meant to be and  she’s sitting on a dock, swilling wine from the bottle and throwing away their love letters.

She says out loud to no one, “this night sure does suck!”

With the wine gone and the letters sailing away, she wishes for him one last time. Whispers to the night air that she loves him still, gets up from her spot on the dock and heads back into the house. She grabs another bottle of wine, uncorks it, and then sits at the kitchen table. She looks at her hands and then the tears begin to spill from her eyes.