The Conversation

Their joining was easy, smooth. The tenderness each showed was answered in turn by the other. It seemed as if their bodies were made for no other purpose than this union. The rhythm they developed was slow, caring and full of meaning for them both. They were lost in each other, locked within a magnificent moment in a timeless place. Never had it been like this for her. Never had he imagined it could ever be like this at all. On and on it went, each of them falling deeper into the other.

Suddenly her eyes opened wide. There was a deep intake of breath. She stared at him with pleading, wonder, gratitude for the moment and most of all with a sense of undiluted joy. She heard the call of the crying need within her and felt the urgency of its unstoppable release. The cry escaped her lips as her back arched up to meet him and she was swept away on the floodtide of feeling.

She floated with eyes half open. The rain continued and the defused light cast its glow on his face. How she had longed to be with this man. Now he was hers and she knew that if it all ended now, it would be enough to sustain her. She had had him completely and totally to herself.

He was looking down, smiling at her and continued his slow rhythm within her. She suddenly looked concerned and said, "You didn't...” Before she could finish he whispered, "No, not yet."

Her eyes glittered and her full, sensuous lips formed a sly smile. "What's on your mind I wonder." He said. Her lips took on an irresistible pout and she began flexing the muscles deep inside her as she studied his face in the half-light. His eyes closed and his breathing became ragged. Supporting himself on fully extended arms, the muscles started to quiver and shake with the strain she had built up in him. Her smile widened as she drew her fingernails down his arms and she began to move under him in a slow circular pattern. "No." he rasped out as he fought for control and in a whisper so slow, so seductive she said, "Yes."

Control. He had thought himself so very much in control before her. Now she possessed him body and soul. He had thought he was immune to feeling and feelings, having been hurt so very badly so often. He had cut himself off and had every intention of staying that way -- until she entered his life.

Unable to maintain any longer, he now supported himself above her on his forearms and elbows. Still she continued her madding movements beneath him. Her nails tore at his broad back and she began to whisper in his ear. "You didn't think I'd let you off so easily, did you? Oh, no. I have plans for you. Do you know what I'm going to do afterwards? I'm going to..." "Please, God, no... I can't..." he said and a deep shudder took hold of him. She continued her sentence in graphic detail and his mind nearly exploded at her words.

He wanted this to never end. He wanted the sensations and the feelings to go on forever, but everything she did drove him closer to the edge. Everything about this was so new to him.

She had never found such a natural outlet. He matched her mood and her movements so easily, she fitted to him exactly and it was as if his body was made for her. She could tell he was a bit out of practice, but she would soon rectify that. For all of that, he still did rather nicely, she thought.

Although she continued to concentrate fully on heightening his pleasure, she became aware that another climax was building inside of her. Their movements became more urgent and her words to him became more insistent, her voice thick with need. A tenderness flowed through them at the moment of absolute fulfillment. Although their bodily responses were frantic, at the exact moment of release, each was able to define what it was to be sincerely wanted and truly needed and to be loved completely.

Still tangled in intimacy, he raised himself over her and said softly, almost inaudibly, "It's you...at last." "Yes, its me." she said just as his mouth covered hers. She felt a warm salt tear fall from his eye and glide gently down her cheek mixing with her own tears of joy. He kissed her tears away and she his and they lay nestled in each other’s arms.

They floated on the current of this tenderness for an intense and immeasurable space of time. Having spent themselves, they lay exhausted in each others embrace and enjoyed the closeness and the warmth. "You're smiling." she said with a content smile of her own. In response he kissed her forehead and his hands pressed deeply into her back.

Truth can often be as misleading as a lie. It was true to say they made love again that night, but in fact they made love all night. Regardless of the activity, they made love. No matter if they were frantic and athletic or quiet and shy, asleep or awake; they were making love.

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She was unaware of what time it was, but she awoke in a slow languor, drugged by the night before. With eyes unable to open she stretched cat-like and discovered she was alone. He had gone or had never been there. Disappointment and heartache flooded her mind. It had been a dream, more vivid and more real than her others, but still a dream. If it was a dream, how could she feel so fulfilled, so satisfied? No, whatever the explanation he was still thousands of miles away and she was here and alone. It was all too good to be true. Again.

A noise in the house brought her to herself and she thought, "Bonnie is home early from her friend's. Just like a kid. I'd better go see her." With her eyes still closed she rolled her head from side to side to loosen the muscles in her neck. She breathed deeply and thought she felt surprisingly relaxed. She rolled onto her side to stretch again and opened her eyes. On the pillow next to her was a single, deeply lustrous rose. She smiled wide and stretched again. Raising her arms above her head, her breasts slid out from under the sheet and she shivered. The soft sound of whistling came to her. It was in key, but abstract and her smile broadened even further. It hadn't been a dream, not this time.

She rose to find his clothing folded neatly on a chair. She covered herself with the dress white shirt she found, not bothering to button it. "Hmmmmm, French cuffs. Oh, my." she said.

There on the pocket were his monogrammed initials. The smell of his cologne drifted from the fresh cotton of his shirt and she murmured, "My, my, my..." and started for the source of the whistling.

She found him in the kitchen. His back was to her and he was wearing running shorts and a sweatshirt. His legs were long and muscular and he moved with an easy, graceful style. Quick and deft, he seemed perfectly at home. She approached him and without a sound stroked his right ear with the rose, drawing it down his neck as he moved his head forward and to the left. There was no collar to the sweatshirt, so his entire shoulder was exposed to her ministrations.

At her first touch he jerked upright, but he did not turn around. The rose teased at his ear, neck and shoulder. He saw her delicate hand as she laid the rose on the kitchen counter. He felt her lift the back of his shirt and then felt the unmistakable sensation of her bare breasts against his back.

"Leave that for now." she said as her arms encircled his waist and her fingers played just inside the waistband of his shorts. He turned off the stove and with a deep intake of breath he turned to face her. She was standing there in his unbuttoned shirt. She left him breathless.

He took her face in both of his hands and looked at the woman he had wanted to see for so long. She lifted the front of his sweat shirt and again pressed herself against him. He bent to kiss her and she rose to meet him. They kissed slowly and tenderly.

She placed her cheek on his chest as his arms went around her. The top of her head came to just under his chin. This is what they had both wanted, what they both needed so badly. He held her tightly and said, "I've loved you for a very long time."

"You know," she smiled and said, "I've had that feeling for some time."