I’m in ♥love♥

I'm in ♥love♥.

Wholly, breathlessly and thoroughly.

With someone other than my husband.

(But, just to be clear…I do love hubs too, very much…don't judge--it is what it is)

I could not ask for a more insightful, intelligent, funny, sexy, sweetheart of a lover to have in my life. We have this connection that I have never had with anyone before, and may never again.  And the mere thought that one day this will end (and we both acknowledge it will--hopefully many, many, MANY moons away yet)…just steals my words, my breath, like nothing else--thinking about it makes my chest hurt…I suppose it's my heart testing out & getting comfortable with the break that will surely come when we part ways.

*sigh*

That being said, he's got my back and loves me just as completely.

And as moving, sappy and disgustingly sweet as all that sounds, don't get me wrong…

But…(and we've actually discussed this...)

We don't always "make love" (ack!)

I would say Tripp and I are undoubtedly fucking. Don't misunderstand--we are all mushy and disgustingly lovey-dovey. Touching, handholding and lots of eye contact…any kind of contact, we can't be near each other without connecting in some way.  It's just how we are.  I swear, if we were to cross paths in public, with our families in tow, I'd "accidentally" bump into him, just for that brief moment of contact.  Geez--I am borderline pathetic.  LOL!!

"Make love"…Who really says that? (not poking fun if you do --maybe I just don't anyone civilized…the ones who are though, say things like, "We 'did it' " and giggle behind their hands.  Seriously--these are adults! LOL!) It's okay for Barry White (oh wait…."Let's Get It On"…hmmm…nope, not "Let's Make Love" forget Barry and the undeniably one of the most  sexy songs ever) oh, and possibly chick flicks—It sounds so…I don't know--innocent and unadulterated.

And we are neither.

I am all about calling a spade a spade (sidebar: Let's get two things straight here: first, the expression to call a spade a spade is thousands of years old and etymologically has nothing whatsoever to do with any racial sentiment. The second is that in spite of this, some people think it is a racial statement (hey--I don't even play cards!), and therefore it should be treated with some caution…I am making it known that I am not being racist or anything objectionable like that…just sayin'.  M-m-m-m-kay? Goodthanks!)
Anyhow….

Our forced absence from one and other brought out a side of my usually "fluffy cuddly" that I had never seen (it's a joke…he is lean and fit). Usually, Tripp is über-gentle, like I am some delicate piece of prized china. But this day, this day, after a month of not getting to see each other, to just be with each other even for a few stolen minutes, there were some I've missed you kisses, lip nibbles…the usual, but after that…oh my.  There were no gentle kisses on my thighs—there were bites, BITES people! (at this point I didn't even care about the possibility of marks, which there were none, surprisingly AND thankfully!!)

OMG it was so friggin' H-O-T!

He was hyper-focused and direct, sucking and almost biting my more delicate lips. Any other time, Tripp sucks and licks my nipples so gently, but this time he grabbed my breasts and devoured them. Again with the teeth…he'd pull my nipples between his teeth and tongue, simultaneously sucking and pulling…it was, in a word…heaven—where had this man been hiding??  I don't know--but I am glad I found him.

By the time we got down to serious business, the bedcovers were damn near soaked and we were covered in sweat from the back and forth hand to hand (or hand to cock, hand to pussy) 'combat' we had been engaged in. Tripp threw me on my back on the bed, and put my legs my up on his shoulders, and kept my arms restrained at my sides, and I could do nothing but submit to him and keep up the best I could with the limited range of motion I had.  I was too far gone to care though--it was all so…so…just--incredible. 

When he pulled out long enough to grab a fistful of hair (not too too rough mind you—Janie is sooo tender-headed) and show me what he wanted next, I was just beside myself happy that he finally (finally!) felt secure enough to take control—and more than happy to oblige with giving him the cock-sucking he only dreams about getting at home ("just not her thing"…silly silly woman). When he couldn't take any more of that, he pulled me up, flipped me over on my knees, and proceeded to unceremoniously fuck me doggie, me holding on to the headboard for dear life. Forget holding each other gently, little whispers, murmuring 'baby' or 'I love yous' and little neck nibbles. That was making love (and there have been times where it was like that, don't get me wrong--this time wasn't it though).

This was something else entirely.

It was furious, it was passionate and (pardon the pun) explosive.

And when I came—I practically screamed. Holy mother of God--and then I cried…sobbed even.  It was just--gah, I can't begin to put words to the intensity of the moment.  Don't get me wrong, I've been known to swear, and gasp. Moan and groan. And maybe even a whispering of his name in the heat of the moment.  We were used up, worn out, and spent but blissfully, peacefully, and joyfully so.

So when I collapsed into that post-orgasmic state, butterflies leaving my tummy, my heart beating crazily…slowly regaining my breath and some composure…I didn't think I had another go around in me, but Tripp had that loopy grin and twinkle in his eye that seems to find reserves in me I didn't know I had.

This time around was soft, sweet and sensual and…it really was making love in every sense of the word…I know, I know--I said we didn't always "make love"…but I am a girl and there's this saying about prerogative and changing minds or something like that. 

So I am exercising my right to do just that.

Just sayin' :)

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