Waking up with him in person was so much better than in my dreams... only so much worse.
|As we were waking up together, stretching, I was blinking and still unable to believe I was actually laying there beside him. I turned and cuddled up to him a little as my heart caught in my throat, stuck between my deep desire to respect his time and space, and so many years of only being able to imagine how wonderful it would feel to press myself against his backside and snake my arm around his little waist in the groggy mornings… wishing so much for him to allow what hadn’t occurred between us again yet to happen once more. He shifted some, looking over his shoulder at me, and we started some joking banter back and forth – him with that same perfect smile that had always melted me straight through – and it was only making me scream inside for how sweet I could just see it all being, if that was how everyday life with him could be. And as I played into the teasing, subtly hoping to cajole him, the underside of my arm brushed across at just the right spot; and yep – at least his body was responding to the morning, for sure.
“Mmmmmm. Ok,” I quipped, as I gently refrained from touching there again or doing anything more unless he would initiate it, after the way he had pulled himself back so hard the day before. And I was so scared he wouldn’t initiate it, either, after all of that, since he hadn’t when we were going to bed, and I seriously didn’t know what I’d do if he’d decided we were “done,” and just not going to ever do it again at all now. But joyously, in the minutes to follow, the overbearing Scott from some hours before gave way to the one I always knew from my happiest authentic memories and holiest dreams of him – my friend and my first love – and he playfully indicated with a nod that, well – it was definitely there – and yeah, if I wanted, I was definitely – um, invited... to have the opportunity to –
Uh huh, baby, no need to finish that thought!! – Oh HELL, yes!!! – was all I could think as I flashed him a gloating grin and pulled the covers behind my head as I headed south. And when I got there – oh so sweet – grabbing the waistband of his greyish plaid boxers and inching them down until my fingers could surround his beautiful hot flesh, and feeling a strange tingle in my stomach as if we were hiding out like virgin teenagers again – I brought him deeply into my mouth. And felt him jolt and heard him moan – and raised up the blanket a little so I could see his face, so he could see mine – Oh Scott, oh, my sweet Scottie – how did all these years get away from us, dear? – It’s you, it’s me, we’re finally here, again, where we should’ve been all along – Oh my God, how I love you – always have loved you, so much!!! – don’t you know, look in my eyes while I hold you like this…
And then, when I paused, he was saying something about that I could come on up, if I wanted, giving me the most precious look – and he threw out a sarcastic, “Save a horse, ride this cowboy!” – which completely made me laugh out loud as I tossed my underwear aside and rose up to straddle him. And maybe it would be the last time? – I wondered, not wanting at all to think of it, as grateful as I was that he’d relented once more… and I rode him and rode him, my heart pushing up through my chest, feeling all of him way deep inside of me. And I gripped him tight and hard within me when he exploded… and as his pulsations soaked through to my soul, it occurred to me that I was not going to be joining him there this time – not the way I had the other two times, anyway. Not in the sense of losing myself along with him and just letting go. I’d been caught up enough in making it as wonderful for him as I could and absorbing the entire experience into my mind, that when he did all of a sudden reach the breaking point, it was only at that moment that I thought of myself at all. And it felt bittersweet… in this case, I had more or less given myself up completely for him – which seemed as relevant to the twisted metaphor of everything that was between us as it ever could have been. And yet, I had been happy to do this, too – to stay tuned in to him enough to be sure he realized all that I was capable of giving, if only he would accept it… if he could also reciprocate, too, occasionally – share his deepest core with me, as he finally had, even if for such an insanely short amount of time barely twenty-four hours before.
But then the truth of that crazed reality must have hit me – between knowing that he would pull back again, and feeling the soft, heated liquid dripping down from the connection of us that was fusing our ancient past and current present into one continuous wave, I couldn’t not release… this was too much, too great – and in the light of day, too incredibly unbelievable to see that it actually, truly was happening. Overwhelmed again, and filled to the brink with a love I couldn’t comprehend, I slumped across his chest – my friend who had touched my soul like no other – and felt my heart emptying of the old, desperate pain of all the years spent longing for him, as the tears choked viciously out. And while most of my crying there the previous two days had been fueled by joy and excitement, this was not – this was about everything that I ever was, ripping out from inside of me – walls crashing against each other… twenty years of hurt and anger and confusion over all that was “him,” to me… Full-body sobs against a smooth, tan, work-hardened shoulder under a white wife-beater tank, while still holding him within my body, plaid boxers down below…