When is the Right Time?

Her phone woke her up. She squinted at the caller ID and saw that it was John McIntyre. "Hey, handsome. You here?" She stretched in the bed; she could already feel his hands on her.

"Right outside your front door."

She loved hearing his voice, that warm, mellifluous voice that warmed her very core and started making her think, for some reason, of his holding her hips as they enjoyed each other. She had been wondering if he was going to come by tonight; he had no idea what time he would be able to leave the hospital, he had told her, but if it was early enough, he would be by. She had drifted off to sleep thinking of him and now he was here and she smiled to herself.

"Let yourself in. I'll start warming myself up." She slid her hand down between her leg; it's wouldn't take much to ready herself for him as hearing his voice alone had brought her halfway there.

He laughed. "Well, start your engines yourself; I'll rev you up."

"Waiting," she said and hung up. Quickly she threw off the T-shirt in which she had been sleeping and pulled the sheets back up, quivering slightly; she knew what was coming—what to expect and anticipation alone made her want to jump out of her skin. She heard the front door open, the brief alarm before he punched in the code, and then she heard his footsteps coming down the hall.

"Well, hello there, beautiful, you have room for me?" He stood at the foot of her bed, smiling down at her while he loosened his tie and removed it and his shirt. He had thrown his jacket over a chair in the living room when he came in.

She always was amazed at him; for an older man, he still had a body that drove her wild. His broad shoulders helped him move her around in the bed and many times she had to hold on to them while her body shook from pleasure. He could easily adjust her to be in any position he wanted and he overwhelmed her physically and sometimes she felt she would faint just from his masculine presence. She never looked at him, even dressed, but that she wanted him. Her fear was that other women felt the same way and would let him know and that he would take them up on it.

She kicked off the covers and held her arms out to him. He laughed, pulled off his trousers and briefs and crawled into bed. He lay down next to her and pulled her over on top of him.

"I couldn't get here fast enough," he said before he placed a hand on the back of her head and pulled her down for a kiss that crushed her mouth into his.

She could feel his hardness against her stomach, had seen it when he undressed and she was practically screaming for him to enter her; she didn't need foreplay, she was always ready for him it seemed, always moist and waiting, in a constant state of anticipation.

Trapper ran his hands over her, running them up and down her back, holding her by the shoulders and kissing her with such feeling that she responded in kind. His mouth was both demanding yet giving; she couldn't explain it but she always knew, whenever they were together, that he was the one, the only one for her. No other man would be able to satisfy her after him. But she never wanted to think about "after him."

She felt the urgent need to feel that fullness that made it seem as if he was touching her everywhere inside all at once.

"Fuck me. Fuck me, now," she begged.

"Oh, so soon? Don't you want me to play with you a little first? The whole drive over, I was thinking about all the things I want to do to you. Don't you want me to do them?" He rolled her over on her back and leaned over her, teased her nipples with the tip of his tongue.

"That depends. What were you going to do to me?' She began to get even more excited, more eager. She thought that all he would have to do now is touch her and she was sure she would explode.

He laughed deeply. He did adore her. She was fun and tender and she loved him. He knew it even if she never said it. Actually neither of them had really said it. She had told him many times that she adored him. He had whispered "I love you," once as they lay entwined in each other's arm after a night of sex, but she had raised her head and looked at him and told him not to say it. She didn't want to hear it. Those words came too easily to people and really meant nothing, she had said. So he tried to remember whenever the words started to come to his lips, not to say them. He wished he knew what in her past had made her so afraid of hearing it, but she never told him. One day, she had said, "I'll tell you." So Trapper waited.

"Well," he said, kissing her neck. "I do take requests-tell me what you want."

"I thought I already had; You always please me." She started to feel the slickness between her legs start to smear between the tops of her thighs remembering the last time they were together.

"That's what they all say." He pinched her firm buttock and she jumped.

"You really are an arrogant jackass, aren't you, Trapper?" She looked up at him, at his grinning face, his beautiful face.

He laughed again, slid a hand down to feel her. "Well, you are ready aren't you? You sure I won't just slide right back out of you?"

"I won't let that happen and I don't think I could be any readier," she said and when he moved on top of her, she threw her legs around his waist.

"Ask me again," he said. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"I want you to push yourself inside me, to stick that lovely, swollen, muscle of love…"

He laughed at her choice of phrase and she smiled up at him.

"What I really want if for you to make love to me. I want you to show me that you care for me and that you want me." She watched as his expression became tender, his eyes reflected his heart, and he looked down at her with such an open look of love that she caught her breath.

And he pulled himself up even further so that her knees were practically to her shoulders and she shuddered as she felt him fill her and soon, soon after, they were lying in each other's arms, each having been fulfilled by their physical act.

She lay with her head on his chest and he stroked her hair, running his fingers through the dark strands. The pounding of his heart was comforting and she closed her eyes and sighed. She was content.

"When can I tell you that I love you?' Trapper quietly asked.

"Oh, Trapper. Please, please just wait. Just wait until I know it's real." She held on to him tighter.

But for Trapper, he knew it was real. He wanted to say it now, tell her now, but he was too afraid, too afraid of scaring her off. So he just said, "Let me know. I'll be waiting."

~Finis~