Monday, January 11, 2010
IN A NUTSHELL, IT was the best time I’d ever had on a swinging blanket.
The hammock swayed as we touched and kissed each other everywhere. It was a dance of perfectly timed movements, which kept us from tipping. But I wasn’t satisfied.
As frustrating at times as it had been—not being fully intimate with Casey while we’d been away together—in the end it was exactly what we needed. We hiked. We took long swims and naps. We talked about our families more and the places we’d like to travel in the future. The future. I could hardly believe that was a possibility.
But my marriage wasn’t altogether settled. And there was still a chance that Casey might get tired of the situation. However, I had an appointment with a lawyer and I’d already moved out. Two things we both thought would take a lot longer to happen. Despite how uncomfortable it was at first, telling my parents and Grant, I was relieved that process was going quicker than expected.
I was falling even more in love with Casey by the minute. The things I’d always been attracted to only intensified in the sun. His hair, when left to dry and go where it wanted, was out of control, wild and unkempt. His beautiful body hosted a tan I was rightfully jealous of. Golden brown in only a few days. He was cut from a dream list of details that I hadn’t even known I’d wished for.
“I hope you’re not tired,” Casey said from between my legs. We’d mastered a head-to-foot, foot-to-head arrangement that was both balanced on the hammock and which equaled pleasure for both of us. I didn’t respond, but I moaned around his cock. I’d never been in that position before—and even though I was hardly doing my best job with the distraction of him licking and sucking at my sex—I loved being able to taste him while he pleasured me.
Still touching me with one hand, he carefully leaned up.
“I think we’ve hit our limit with luck on this swing, honeybee.” He swung his feet out and steadied it. Then he moved my legs and enfolded them around his waist.
I was love drunk. Pliant. Kissing any skin in front of me.
He picked me up and carried me inside. As he walked, I could feel the length of him pressed between us. I ground myself against him, wanton and full of desire.
He didn’t put me down when he crawled across the top of the bed, I was still clutching his hard body. When I felt the mattress below me, I let my grip on him go. My hands wandered to his face, where I held him still so I could kiss him. The intimate taste of him, already in my mouth, mixed with the taste of me in his, was erotic and delicious.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue passionately gliding over mine. Then his kiss left my mouth and he licked and sucked down my neck. My hips rolled, wanting him.
He shifted so his cock was sliding over my clit and it was divine. I slid up and down his length loving the friction.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his husky voice cracked when he spoke.
“Casey, please.”
“Why do you want it?”
“Because I love you,” I answered without thought or hesitation. He moaned and lowered himself. Before I could catch a breath, he was blissfully inside me. Then he moaned again, but that time it sounded like my name. His hand moved up my side and found my shoulder, then he followed the length of my arm until he found my hand. He laced our fingers together and pushed them over our heads, underneath a pillow that was farther up the bed. He pushed into me with such power and possession that I saw stars. Or maybe Jesus.
He moved with finesse and timing, slowing down and savoring the feeling of our connection. Then each time the intensity raised, the force of him would rock the bed so I bounced back onto him with just as much pressure. It was heaven.
When he’d get close to his orgasm, he’d back off. Slipping a hand between us, he’d make me come. Then he’d reposition us and start the glorious act over again. I didn’t know how a man could have so much restraint—we’d been teasing each other for days. Yet, when I felt his stomach muscles tighten against my hand or body, he’d slow down like he wasn’t ready for it to end. Silly man, he could have had me as many times as he wanted.
Finally as we lay, my back to his chest, my leg slung over his hip, his hand rubbing mind-blowing circles over my sensitive sex, he sped up and didn’t try to control himself.
“I can’t stop, honeybee. I’m going to come,” he said breathlessly in my ear. Those words sent electricity through me and spurred something deep within me that was waiting for him.
“Yes,” I panted. “Oh, Casey. Casey.” I repeated his name, over and over it tumbled from my kiss-swollen lips. “Come, Casey. I want to feel you come inside me.”
“Oh, fuck, Blake. Ah,” he panted.
His hold on me tightened and he pushed so deeply within me, I thought he might touch the other side. I was full of him and that thought alone sent me spinning out of control. I pushed back against his body and it was like our bodies were attached. And then I felt him quake and erupt as my sex clenched around him.
He hugged me tightly and told me how much he loved me. He peppered kisses across my shoulders and neck until we were wrung out. Then we lay there for a while catching our breath until I rolled over on top of him.
“I love you, Casey Moore,” I said, as I ran my fingers through the hollow space between his perfectly defined stomach muscles.
“I love you, too, Blake.”
How many times can a girl get off in one night? I wasn’t sure, but I was thinking for me it was at least six. It was like the very first time all over again, along with every other time we’d been together, all rolled into one.
His body reminded mine of the feelings I’d pushed down when I’d had to and of thoughts I’d talked myself out of for so long. Sensations I only thought the lucky people had. Being with him, I was one of those lucky people.
I wasn’t sure what time it was; it was still dark. I was terribly thirsty—probably because of how much I’d drunk the night before—and I peeked up over his body to see if there was a bottle of water on his side of the table. There had been one earlier, when we were re-hydrating—as he called it. Boy, did I need it.
When we were outside on the hammock, I thought he was going to stick to his just take our time bit, which he’d insisted on the first few days. And having that element of our relationship sort of shelved, had felt a little weird—but also it had felt so good. Just to be with him in a time and place that wasn’t hurried or rushed was eye-opening. I wasn’t desperate, thinking it was the last time, like before. It was peaceful and I could finally breathe after months of wanting and denying myself. Denying us.
It felt like a true vacation. Lazy and cozy. Warm and relaxing. Sex aside, in those few days, I’d been with him in more ways than I’d ever been with anyone.
I had to admit, I wasn’t totally on board with the whole slow down. Of course, we took care of each other in other ways, but after a few days of just kissing and touching, we gained clarity. Our conversations weren’t about the future or the past. They were about us. Things we’d done and places we’d love to revisit—together.
However, upon coming inside, after what I’d thought had been the end of our physical activities—not that I would complain—I was pleasantly surprised he wasn’t finished with me.
Not by a long shot.
I’d never realized how strong he was before that—the way he carried me into the room from the hammock. He had purpose and didn’t stop for anything. The delicate way he took his time. How he moved inside me. And, looking at him sleep, I was reminded of those things as I rolled over to grab the water.
Casey stirred a little, probably from my movement, and mumbled what sounded like, “What are they doing here?”
Who was they? Where was here? And who was he talking to?
I wanted to remember to ask him about it later, but I, too, was delirious. I finished off the room temperature water and accepted I’d probably just forget. I lay back down on my belly and inched my way into the crook of his arm, smelling his scent with huge intakes of air. I fell asleep dreaming of the things we’d done.
It was just as magical the second time.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
“Wake up.”
Two warm lips pressed against my cheek.
I could smell the coffee like it was being waved under my nose. Trying one timid eyelid before both, I found I wasn’t too far off. He was holding my new honeybee mug and I could see the steam rising from it.
On our first morning there, he’d somehow arranged for our coffee to come up with mugs he’d bought for us. Mine said Honeybee is Trouble and his said Lou Loves Trouble.
I would always be his Betty, but I liked honeybee more. It was a name he’d given me and one I’d never shared with anyone else. Just him.
I stretched and felt the repercussions of a night like the one we’d had. I was tender and sore—not only in lady land—but in my sides and abdominals. Sex with him was a workout program I could get used to.
Casey must have seen my wince, because he said, “Are you all right?”
I scooted back on the bed so I could sit up and take the coffee he’d brought just for me. When I was ready, he handed the mug, handle out, for me to take.
“I’m fine. Thank you. I need this,” I told him as I leaned into the mug to sip off the first taste. “Mmmm. It’s so damn good.”
He sat down with his cup and rubbed up and down my leg as we caffeinated ourselves.
“Here’s my idea. We leave tomorrow, so we’ve only got a little over twenty-four hours left.” I pouted my lip at him and he pouted back saying, “I know. It sucks.”
“Totally sucks,” I added.
“Anyway, put that lip up. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to order room service and eat it in the hot tub.” He sympathetically nodded and said, “That should help your vagina.” When he said vagina with a straight face. I giggled and drank my coffee.
“What if there’s nothing wrong with my vagina?” I asked.
“Then I didn’t do my job,” he retorted with a point of his index finger down to the organ in question. “That thing got roughed up last night and we both know it.”
I laughed again, but bobbed for him to keep going.
“Then we’re going to go down to the beach and lay around, after that were going to take a shower—together. Then we’re going to watch Spanish television—I’ll translate what I can for you.” He was so damn cute.
“And then?”
“Then I’m going to hit that a few more times. Maybe another shower. Maybe not. I haven’t worked it all out yet.” He smiled that full-tilt Casey grin. “Then I’m going to hit it again.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you put me off for so long. It would have been a shame to come all this way and not see anything or have any fun.” I tried to hide my playfulness by looking into my coffee. “I would have never seen the outside of this room if I’d have had my way on our first night.”
“Well, I hope you saw everything you needed to,” he said, “because for the next day, you’re all mine. And I’m fucking you anywhere and everywhere I want.”
Who could argue with that?
Casey made good on his promise.
We ate breakfast in the monstrous Jacuzzi and then we fucked on the side of it. He was right about it making me feel better. Even though my vagina wasn’t in as rough a condition as he’d like to have thought, it was tender. By the time we got out of the whirlpool, it was better.
We had sex and laughed and laughed while we had sex, which I didn’t know was possible. But when you’re getting a lesson in dirty talking, midway through having sex on the floor of your hotel room, and your lover keeps saying, “You take that cock,” like a cheesy porn star? Sometimes the only thing you can do is laugh.
It was my favorite twenty-four hours in Costa Rica. It replenished me and was just the fuel I needed to make sure I got back to him as fast as I possibly could.
Not just for the great sex, but because he was such a good friend. My best friend.