Next to You

The sunlight barely peeks in as the buzzing of my alarm clock sounds. I'm next to you in our bed, but you barely move. Your breathing is deep, measured, comfortable. I can feel your contentment, can see your smile even as you sleep. Your hair is dark and vibrant and alive. You are facing me, you are covered but have one leg on top of the comforter.

I look at you in wonder. My eyes taking you in, admiring your beautiful face. I smile as I glance at the curve of your ass over the covers, follow your leg down to your ankle, take in the arch of your foot, the tenderness of your toes.

You've taught me to proudly sleep naked, as you do. To embrace the glorious sensations of our bodies. Sleeping naked, being naked around our home, as we often are, has inspired me to pay more attention to my own body. To take my body seriously. To learn, even as I sneak past 40, that my body responds to me and I can control much of what it does and how it looks.

I've learned a lot about control through our time together.

Now, though, I am next to you. I'm in awe. Of your beauty, yes. But also of how we came to be. Of how that post on that site caused you to respond. How you showed up just as promised. How I desired your kiss more than anything almost upon seeing you. How I restrained myself, then regretted it. How I prided myself on control, but couldn't take exactly what I wanted then.

Time works wonders. Our paths would continue to cross. I'd often imagine you as my lover. I'd even say those words: "I love you" during the many times I pleasured myself while thinking of you. Silly, perhaps. But I couldn't deny the response you created inside me.

Next to you, I notice our differences. Your body is long and marked with ink that tells a story. Standing naked, side by side, we are roughly the same height. Though in the heels I enjoy seeing you wear, you are often taller.

I'm thinner now, more fit than when we first met. And of course, always 15 years more experienced than you. My daily routine means a suit, a crisp shirt, cuff links.

Your work is hands-on, dirty, necessary. You love what you do and you've built a business doing it.

When I come back to our home from my days in meetings, or writing, or traveling - you greet me. Always in the way I desire. No matter what has gone on or what's happening that day, we make time for this.

You wear high black heels and thigh-high stockings with a garter belt, black lace panties, and a matching bra. The black leather collar complements your olive skin.

Your hand on my neck, we kiss. Then, you kneel and unzip my suit pants. I'm always aroused in your presence, and you reach in and pull my hard cock out of those pants. Your eyes look into mine as you stroke me, then tease me with your tongue. Almost instantly, we are both lost, both giving in to our desire.

Standing over you, my cock in your mouth, I cum down your throat. You swallow every drop, zip me up, and smile. As you stand, we kiss again. And then I'm off to shower. This one thing -- this routine -- is but one piece in the puzzle of our bliss.

Over dinner, we share our stories of the day. Go over what's happening the rest of the week. We laugh and smile and celebrate each other. I wear only a robe and you remain in your lingerie.

Sometimes, we can't wait until we are in our bedroom, and we make love in the kitchen, even right at the table. Often, after we've eaten and before the dishes have been cleaned, you're in my lap and our bodies are seemingly inseparable. There have been days I've pushed you against the refrigerator and placed my mouth on your aching pussy, licking, sucking, devouring you as if the meal had not been enough, as if your essence is all I need to survive. Even on those nights, we meet again in bed, completely naked, and make love. Quiet, calm, simply together.

This morning, as I'm next to you, I think of those things. Of the path we've been on together. Of our bodies together mere hours before.

I know I must go.

But I know I must have you, too. Seeing that black collar on your neck only serves to heighten my arousal. My hand grabs your exposed ass and you move a bit in response, but remain in foggy sleep.

I'm behind you now, my lips on your ass, my hand pulling the covers down, and you are waking. As my tongue dances on your ass, teases and flicks and pushes against your anus, you squirm in response.

I reach up with my hand and grab your ample breast, hold it. Your body has always amazed me and I'm still in awe that you are mine. You move up onto all fours and I taste the sweetness of your pussy, the mixture of your cum and mine from last night. I can't stop, I must have you. In your sleepy, relaxed state, you cum rather quickly. And now, now I'm inside you. Pumping hard and fast and thinking only of you. I bend over you, cock buried deep, and bite your neck, kiss your ear. I can't get close enough to you and I can't stop. Our lips meet and now my hand is around your neck.

You feel my cock pulsing, bursting, exploding inside you. My breath on your neck, your ear. And I say to you: "I'm glad you're mine."

Showered, shaved, dressed and at the door. You stand there, naked. Kiss me on the cheek. As you wave bye, I see the trickle of my semen on your leg, see the evidence that just moments ago, our bodies were intertwined.

I smile -- a smile happier and brighter than ever.

This is our life. This is me. Next to you.