A Time for Us
Chapter 2: Reawakening
Last night was the first time in months and now, gloriously enough, it look like this will be the second.
Love in the afternoon. So different and yet so similar to love in the depths of night. The light is astounding. A hospital room with very sterile lighting. I have always hated fluorescents. They are just too bright. Ana is lying on the bed before me, waiting and trembling as she did last night. I dislike the coloring of her skin under these lights, so I turn them off.
Now she is caught in a shaft of mid afternoon sunlight. My Ana, so beautiful. Her skin glows with the sparkle of the water droplets that still remain from our shower together. But her hair, her lovely thick brown hair is fully dry. I made sure of that just now. I could look at her for hours. But her blue eyes are looking directly back into my own and suddenly the desire to look is replaced by the desire to touch.
Her desire clearly matches my own. But I have business to take care of first.
"Not now Shonda," I call, not waiting for a reply.
Ana smiles up at me and I walk over and sit on the bed. Very carefully, I unwrap the towel from her body. Oh yes, it's just as lovely as ever. Who would have thought that the mother of two could maintain such a lovely shape. Of course it's somewhat different from the early days, different in a good way.
Her breasts are fuller and hips are rounder. She is still slim, but no longer boyishly so. Now she is all woman. I wonder how her body will fill out when she begins to put on weight again. I suspect that I might have a more voluptuous body to enjoy and to pleasure. I lean up a bit, but before I can, she has pulled the towel from my waist and set me free. She smiles appreciatively.
With a sense of regret, I pause to pull out a condom and deal with it. I am hard enough, but not entirely ready. Still, I don't want to make any mistakes that might start this whole illness all over again. And once we get caught up in the moment . . .
I lean over her now and kiss her deeply and her hands trace circles over my back and shoulders. Her touch is still . . . everything. My eagerness is such that I am afraid that I might explode prematurely. However last night, in my excitement to be inside her once more, I didn't take the opportunity to enjoy the outside. I settle myself comfortably myself more comfortably beside her and set about my exploration.
Touching her is not enough, I want to taste her, every inch of her, before I take her. With my brain on automatic pilot, my libido in check, and my tongue at the ready, I begin my advance. Exerting iron control, I taste her arms and shoulders first, saving her breasts for as long as I can before I finally take one in my mouth and suck.
I am surprised and pleased to discover that I can still taste a bit of breast milk. It is so sweet, just as I remember it. It is difficult, but I let go of one and find the other. And to my delight, it also yields a few drops. How can something intended for the nourishment of an infant yield so much erotic pleasure? I don't know, but I have other places to explore.
I move lower, skirting quickly past her hips and belly. I have only one prize in sight. I gently smooth away the dark hair from my goal. It brings back fond memories of the early days, before the days of Brazilian waxes. I wonder if she will let me take care of it, but remembering her mortification that night in London when I took a razor to her I don't even ask.
Instead, I sigh and take take her in my mouth. She tastes every bit as sweet as ever. Perhaps it is the length of time since we have done this, but she begins to quiver almost immediately. And before I have really taken my full pleasure if her, she lets loose with a gut wrenching orgasm. I had not realized how sensitive she would be after all this time, but for several moments I am afraid that she is going to literally expire if her own pleasure as she gasps for breath.
Her body, which had very nearly flipped itself off the bed, stills for a minute and I take the opportunity to enter her. Last night, I took her at a calm, peaceful pace. But seeing her almost ripped apart beside me, I find myself unable to curb the urge to slam into her. And damn, but it feels good.
She whimpers as I plunge in and I can feel her tightening around me and building towards another release. She throws her head back and coughs and stutters. I hardly notice, I am so busy working towards my own release. We simultaneously explode around each other and I see stars. Holy fuck! That was intense!
And it goes on and on, both of us grasping and choking with each new tremor, until at last our bodies are spent. Exhausted and glistening in sweat we lay wrapped around one another until the peace is shattered by a knock on the door. Time to eat? I guess I just worked up an appetite, but I don't really feel hungry, not for food anyway.
Earlier this morning, Ana woke up fearful that last night's lovemaking was only a dream. But there is no mistaking this time around. There are some things that you just can't dream.