Together for a little over a year

It’s Sunday morning and you arrive in a very jolly mood. I can tell cause you are wearing one of your most colorful long dresses. And the voice message you sent from the car is in that high pitched hoochiecoochie voice that makes me want to eat you. 

Somehow you have got the impulse to make crème brûlée together. 

With the heat between us and your allegedly non-existing cooking skills we risk burning the place down, but even that I would sort of enjoy, since we’d be having fun. And you’re extra adorable when you are panicking. 

Things have a way of escalating when nobody is watching us, so it doesn’t take long for you to be sitting on the kitchen table (classic!) and pressing me against you with those pole dancing (literally) legs of yours. They’re so insanely long that am wondering if you could still do some cooking in the kitchen with your feet behind my back.

You have darkish labia, not so much pink or red. As always I want to sink to my knees and taste you till I have your addictive juices all over my face, but you hold me firmly in place with those muscled pincers. Completely smooth, all hairs lasered off. In a process that included your anus. Painful, but not completely without its pleasures. That’s what you wrote me while you were undergoing the procedure.

Clearly you want me inside you and Little Willy rises to the occasion. You know, you appear, he salutes. Big Willy is not so confident. Am always worried am not big enough for you, but to mention that is super annoying to a woman, so I shut up about that and focus on thinking that my unadulterated, uninhibited and truly insatiable hunger for you is in fact what every woman wants to see from her guy. There is certainly an abundance of those ingredients. I want to climb inside you whole and set myself on fire just to  warm you from the inside out. 

In my orgasm I feel how strong my ejaculation is and how am filling you with the  liquid you so easily drain from me. Am clutching you so hard I must be hurting you. When I orgasm, whether you finish me with your hand or when am in your uncommonly strong sucking pussy my eyes need yours. When am unloading all that tension in you, with you I have this overpowering inner directive that makes me look into your eyes every pulsating second of it. Am pouring myself into you. Today is even more intense because we have one of those moments where we both climax at the same time with my thumb on your clit. It looks like a tiny exotic plant and when my tongue is not on it for longer than four hours or so my tongue falls into a very deep identity crisis. 

We both catch our breath. Am gently kissing you all over. Am scared you will want a shower now, cause you are an inveterate clean freak. 

Before you can decide I carry you to the bed. I lick you to four orgasms. In between I keep you wanting more by kissing you all over and by licking all parts of your beautifully shaped pussy except the very sensitive ones or I penetrate you with my tongue. Eventually I lick you with two fingers inside you. 

I try to go for a fifth, but this time you stop me. 

I want to hug you now and am always scared you’ll rush out the door. 

You say: ‘Don’t look like you are going to break into a million little pieces. Am not leaving yet. I have a bit more time today. Are you happy now?’ 

‘Very, very, very’, and I kiss you on your forehead and we snuggle. 

‘I could use some water though’, you say. 

‘I know’, I say and pull several water bottles from under the bed. I took them from the fridge and put them under the bed a few minutes before you arrived. 

You start laughing and I look at you with question marks in my eyes. 

‘Am just remembering certain situations with my mum in the US. You know her English isn’t very good.’ 

I put my head back on your chest and my hands are gently roaming your body, exploring every little spot of it. 

While you are talking I lick circles around your nipples. I assure you I am still listening. 

‘Mum speaks French, but no German. At the airport in Vienna, when she had to fly to America, she could of course find people who speak French if she needs some information, but it’s not written on their faces, who knows the tongue of Voltaire and who doesn’t.’

I smile cause of the way you are describing it, but most of all I smile because you are so happy when you’re talking about your mum. It makes me melt even more. 

I stop licking and press my head strongly against your exquisite mocha colored skin. I very consciously take in your smell cause all too soon you will meet colleagues for lunch. On a Sunday. It’s some special occasion for someone who is pregnant and will go on maternity leave. 

‘They invited me, but they aren’t colleagues in my team.’ 

‘Am sure they just wanted some eye candy at their table.’ 

‘No, they want favors.’ 

‘Ah, they want to be in the good graces of the future Big Cheese of the company. Luna Gruyère.’ 

‘No, Luna van de Brie. Very Dutch. Very chic.’ 

‘Very tasty’, I say and I kiss you so passionately I can hear you whisper the faintest possible ‘wow’, which is not on the same level as seeing you orgasm 4 times with my head buried deep between your gazelle legs, but it’s also quite rewarding. 

We talk some more about work, and family and your time in Lebanon and the war there and that time your father threw out a scorpion out of the place where you were sleeping. 

Then to my great surprise we actually nap with my arms still around you. 

When you wake up you drink a lot of water as you always do and I offer you a bowl of almonds covered in chocolate and those Slovak candy bars called horalky. Every time you wake up you crave sweet food and gulp water like a camel.

‘Sometimes I hate you know everything’, you sigh, ‘but today am going to be… hmm… what would be the right word… flattered, am going to be flattered.’ 

‘You have to go now’ 

I say that not because I want you gone, but to cut this excruciating moment short. Rip off the bandage in one strong and swift movement.

‘Yes, you read my mind’ 

You take a shower and I give you your privacy. The bathroom is usually a no go zone when you’re busy doing your very feminine ‘upkeep’. There is a cupboard with all your special tools and products for your very unique shower ritual. I will shower after you have gone to meet your colleagues for lunch. And I’ll postpone it for as long as I reasonably can cause smelling you on me keeps me somewhere floating between heaven and hell.

‘Well, get up from the bed, we can still hug before I go.’ 

To see you dress is like seeing art come alive, but to see you leave is like drinking listerine with crunched glass and pig shit. 

We hug. I hear myself say: ‘This is good, this is very good.’ 

‘You always say that. For a writer you are in need of more variety in your vocabulary. I will get you word of the day toilet paper.’ 

I can’t produce much sound in those moments that you are leaving. 

You run to the mirror one last time. 

‘Now am really going to make your day’, you say. 

I don’t want to get my hopes up too much and suspect you have brought me more food. Sometimes I think you are to me what food is to you.

‘Your tenderness makes me fly. High. And don’t look so surprised. And make sure you eat something really tasty and healthy. I want pictures! I am an Arab woman. I shall not be denied! And remember that chocolate is a fruit. You can have some, my Mr Mister chicken and broccoli.’ 

Even now you make me smile. 

I still smell your yoni on my face.  Loving you is the best thing I have ever done.