In the taxi on the way to the house of a colleague, we sat next to one another. I'd already told her in the bar my intentions. Comments on the day's occurences: congratulating each other on our achievements. We were celebrating! And then I grabbed her with my left hand softly on her jaw (she was on my left) and my right hand pulling her head, her lips, toward mine. She too grabbed, pulling desperately, her tongue in my mouth. This desperate sense of pleasure struggling to be experienced. But there was a strange complexity to it. When we paused, our lips grazed the face of the other, softly planting kisses. My right hand traced the interior of her thigh. And then we arrived and the fun was over.
The night after, I helped Adrienne celebrate her birthday. The first day's celebration was not enough. I came late, after teaching, to meet her and a friend at a posh, well-to-do restaurant on the west side. Eventually the friend left. Adrienne expressed misgivings at me coming home with her. I meant to help her break a 3-month streak of abstinence. It has been literally years since I have gone that long, or even two months, without sex. But I talked her out of her misgivings. She said, do you want to come with me. And I said, is that an invitation.
In the taxi she leaned against me. I had my arms around her. Out of the taxi, into her door. I take off my jacket and we walk back to the bedroom. We talk listlessly as she prepares for bed about books. Or rather, I'm asking her about the books on her shelf. We are academics and thus, there is nothing else. Except what happens after the lights go out.
Some people's smells. Her's has always had an immediate effect on me. We kiss, not merely desperately, like the night before, but still deeply. We can kiss softly, her lips just touching mine. And then harder, with the surfaces crossing, trying to find a groove where they can fit and stop. Tongues breaking the barriers between the space that is mine and that is hers. Surreptitiously, she'd gotten in bed with a t-shirt and boxers. I did the same. But I stripped off her shirt quickly and then took off all of my clothes. There was nothing I could do to take off her lowers. My teeth bit her nipples. I close down on one and then move my head back and forth so that it travels from side to side between my teeth.
Adrienne makes so much noise. And I haven't even touched her holiest of holies. I cannot help, as I pulled her body against mine, trying futilely to unveil her lower parts, but thrust myself against her. I am hard and I want penetration. Eventually, I digitally penetrate the lower boundaries, reaching inside to feel her IUD. They are peculiar devices, aren't they? Like divining rods, really. She was pleasured, to some degree. She fumbles with me, violent as though I'm a teenage boy, when all I really want is for her to take me into her mouth.
I dream that night of the other Michigan girl. That I cum and she will not lick it off. Among other things.
I have to help myself, sadly, the next day, by myself, on my bed. Fireworks of solitude.
