Ordinary…

I read somewhere that you shouldn’t start a story with your characters in bed.

That’s exactly where my story begins. In a cozy bed sitter, butt to belly, limbs entangled trying to snatch up that adventurous strand of hair stuck on my tongue. She touches me; I flinch and say “not now love, but I want you later”.  You are probably saying, “I have heard this story before”. 

Kisses…caresses…pressing…rising…consuming…then one of you lights a cigarette, and waves the smoke away after each drag. Disgusting habit but that’s how the story always goes. No fancy pants sadomasochistic red room of pain or 7 acrobats and a Bengal tiger hanging from the curtain rails kind of sex. But isn’t that the story of sex, the kind of everyday ordinary sex that builds a relationship.

 In this warm bedsitter, we eat, we watch TV, gossip about the neighbors then gravitate towards the bed… to sleep or to talk; there are details the hurried hectic weekday pace has probably  let slip by. She chuckles, I giggle and we laugh. She talks about money, family, people, religion, government you name it. I believe her. Whatever she says, I believe her. I tell her my fears, hopes and dreams. She listens. I whine about my Sasquatch feet, impossibly high cheek bones and everything about me that is a source of embarrassment. She laughs, but she still listens. A tentative kiss…the way her warm hands and dainty fingers dance across my taut skin is a bonding. I spread myself wider for her, vulnerable, needing and she moans into my lips. You knew this was going to happen. It is happening. Just ordinary…

We are not making ripples in the outside world. Tiny whimpers, small shudders and her fingers positioned exquisitely. I arch for her, I arch to her, and I love her with my whole being as she worships my temple. I want more, I want it all! She has the good sense not to stop, but I tell her not to stop… just in case. Letting herself flow with the currents of my passion, she fondles, licks and sucks. My hips rock, buckle and grind with urgency. We lose our individual selves and find each other in this quivering mass of pleasure. Sometimes, if I withhold the moans, the feelings are intensified. Sometimes, I don’t have much of a choice. The sound comes from deep inside…out of this clenching and unclenching writhing intensity of pure unadulterated delight. She makes small affirming sounds as I cling tight onto her, imploding…and completely spent.  She cradles my head in her arms and smiles fondly down at me and teases, “how about that for ordinary?” She takes pride in pleasing me.

It is all part of the package; the ordinary stories, the ordinary sex, the coming and most importantly, a lovely companion to share it all with.