The sexier side of him can lift me easily up for a kiss, or to manipulate me where he wants me. My legs can wrap around his small waist, my arms can barely (heck I may not be able to do this, and if he were around, I'd test it) wrap around his broad chest or shoulders. My eyes can feast of the visual image of his arm muscles bulging when he is braced above me, can feel the ripples of muscles under my fingertips as he moves in and out of me.
The downside to having sex with this amazing archetype of athletic man, is that he is gone for long periods of time, doing his duty to his first mistress: our country. This is a story about needing and greeting him back into my own arms...
As I drift off to sleep, I remember the day's events that have wrung me emotionally dry. The lack of sleep the night before with anxiety and anticipation. The moments of giddy thinking about getting a chance to see you. Hours spent grooming, shaving, shampooing, brushing, straightening, curling, spraying, spritzing, changing. I was a nervous wreck at the thought of seeing you. Laughter, encouragement, compliments from friends were lost in the fog, voices seemingly far away, my own apprehension amplifying the concern from within rather than the reality outward. I don't remember the drive there.
My emotions spiraled out, sense was disoriented, expectation unreasonable, tangled hopes, exaggerated emotions. And then the moment came, and the world was still, and all of the many people surrounding me ceased to exist as suddenly men poured out, so similar in dress and manner that I panicked that I wouldn't find you. But I did, and my breath caught and my heart stopped, time dragged slowly as we struggled our way to each other. And then I was engulfed in your arms, unable to see anything but the fabric clothing you, smelled your unique scent that draws me in. My heartbeat returned, rushed through my body and poured life and sensation back into it, pounded in my head, overtook my senses. I wonder, before I drift off, was that you towering over me that cast shadows, or was the sun blocked out briefly?
My insecurities came to the forefront when you released me, was the reality of me what you've professed to dreaming about all these nights? Did the memory turned fantasy hold up? I wanted to stop the tears, happy tears that my world - in you - was close. How waterproof was mascara, I thought then. You were better looking than the image that I envisioned, vibrant and magnetic, alive and breathing, smiling at me. Safe and sound, a certainty for the first time this year.
And now sleeping next to me. My expectation, though I knew better, was a night of lovemaking, though I was exhausted and knew you would be as well. Your fatigue after visiting with friends and family left you destitute, with a mumbled apology, a collapse on the bed, an arm around my waist, possessively drawing me close and pinning me there, sudden snores soft against my ear.
Why can't I sleep, even as I drift closer to dreams? I am aware of your chest rising and falling against my side, the heaviness of your arm draped over me. My eyes burn and itch from holding back tears and slumber. But my body quickens and awakens, rebelling the unconsciousness.
It's going to be a long night. I need to delve my tongue into your mouth, draw in your breath. Hold you tighter, taste your skin. Feel you harden in my hand, drag my tongue slowly up your shaft. Press your tip against my lips, open and curl and suck just the head before I fill my mouth as far as possible with your cock. Coil my tongue around your length as I pull up with my lips, pulling you and releasing you.
I yearn to have you poised at my entrance, gently part, stretch and fill my body slowly until I am used to you again, until my body knows that you have returned, that I am yours. Your hardness searing me, marking where it belongs, my warmth clinging, clutching, grasping.
I want to surround you. I've missed you with such an ache that only you fulfill, and it's been so long.
I need to welcome you home, my love.