It is a little cabin by a lake. When I saw it online I knew it was perfect. Somewhere for us to step out of time. You arrived first and walked through the house touching, adjusting, setting out the few things you brought with you to make it your own. A few flowers from your garden, purple, yellow and white, arranged in a jar on the table, and a bunch of roses in a glass on the stand by the bed. The wooden shingles are worn and faded to a silver grey and it sits easily among the ferns and irises that are planted in the scatter of graceful white birches. It is set back from the road and, standing on the deep covered porch, the only sounds are the lap of waves along the shore and the rustle of the wind among the birch leaves.
Inside, the front room runs the width of the house with an old stone fireplace that dominates one end. Two wicker chairs rest on either side of the fireplace like old friends. The kitchen and living room are separated by a counter. Blue and white plates, spices, enamel mugs are carefully lined up on the shelves and copper bottom pots and pans hang on the wall above the old gas stove. A small hall leads to a bedroom and bathroom in the back. The bedroom windows are wide open and look out into the gladed woods behind the cabin. The light inside is dappled and shifting and even on a still day the air flows through. From the porch, steps lead to a boardwalk that winds down to a little float. Trees spread a green canopy over the cabin and the shadows cast into the porch shift and play. The simple lunch you brought is laid out on the small table on the porch.
You go in to bring out the drinks and stop in front of the mirror to touch your hair into place where the breeze has tousled it, and adjust the neckline of your top. You want me to want you as soon as I see you and the curve of your breasts is clear beneath your simple top, the neckline reveals just enough to promise. You smile.
You listen for the sound of tires on the gravel road and suddenly there it is. Your heartbeat is instantly too big and loud in your chest and your tummy is tight and fluttery inside.
You step outside and there I am, at the steps, looking up at you, and everything seems to stop. There is only you and me held in one another’s gaze, not yet touching but already locked together. It is hard to breathe and my feet no longer feel connected with the ground. I have imagined this moment a thousand times and now that it is here is has the unreal glitter of fantasy even though I know, this time, it is real.
All the letters, the stolen time for chats, all the stories shared and days detailed, none of it has prepared me for you. You are at once familiar and new. I walk up the steps and before I can say a word you are in my arms. I smell your hair and you are sunshine and summer flowers and sweetness, a deep and intoxicating sweetness. I breathe you in and bring my hand to your face and bring your eyes to mine. The waiting is over and your smile welcomes me and invites me. With the kiss the moment becomes real, erasing all hesitation. Suddenly shyness and awkwardness are gone. This is you, warm and melting in my arms, your lips moving against mine, your eyes smiling into mine. Your heart beating loud against my chest. Your tongue meets mine and we smile into one another. I know neither of us wants it to end. But darling, we have to breathe and we draw away but not apart.
“How was the trip?” you ask.
“Long,” I answer. “Long, but over now.” It seems so little to say finally. After all these months of anticipation and the slow reveal of friendship, and yet in those few words we have shared the longing and the waiting and yes, now it is over. You take my hand and lead me inside.
“Are you hungry?” you ask quietly, because we are still pressed close.
And I know you have taken time with the food and I want to be gracious but when I try to speak the words will barely come.
You smile before I can finish and I see what I have longed to see, desire like soft smoke in your eyes.
The dappled light falls across your neck and bare shoulders giving your skin a soft glow. My fingers trace the pattern of light and shadow on your shoulder as if I am writing my deepest thoughts directly on you.
“I am only hungry for you,” I whisper. “Only for you.”
It is so strange to be so familiar, to know each other so well and yet to be so completely new. I am caught between feeling we have done this many times before and realizing that it is finally happening for the first time.
You take my hand and put it around your waist and we walk so close our hips brush together as we walk, so close that we are like one person.
“A shower?” you ask.
“Lovely,” I answer.
You turn on the shower and adjust the water, then turn to face me. Your hands are on my shirt and together we lift it off, I slide your top off while you wriggle out of your jeans. You unbutton my jeans and slide them over my hips.
“You remembered,” you laugh.
“Jeans with nothing underneath, just for you,” I reply.
Your panties are wisps of lace and I love thinking of you shopping for them, thinking of me.
We step into the shower. The space is small. You turn me around and soap my back. I feel your hands strong on my shoulders and along my neck. Slick with soap they slide down my back and around my ass. The scent of ginger and lemon fills the air and it is refreshing and warming at the same time. I close my eyes, feel the water beating on my chest, feel you kneel and reach between my legs to soap my cock, one hand on my balls, the other reaching up to my belly and then down the full length of my shaft. You stand and turn me to face you and hand me the soap. I kiss you and soap your breasts, cupping their fullness and teasing the nipples just a moment before moving on to your belly, then kneeling before you to soap your ass, your thighs, up between your legs to take the lips of your pussy in my hand and then down the length of your legs.
We stand a moment and let the water wash away the soap. I feel fresh and alive and I tingle all over.
You turn off the water and hand me a towel. I see your eyes move down my body and I feel your gaze as sure as a touch. From my face to my shoulders, down my chest, over my stomach — and I feel my muscles tense there — then to my cock, and it lifts, and you smile again. We dry ourselves and walk naked to the bedroom. I follow you to see the gentle swing of your ass and to marvel again that I am here with you.
The bed is made up with a simple quilt and the light and shadows cast by the trees outside shift and dance on the walls and ceiling. I smell the dusky sweetness of the roses and the soap from our shower. You take a small bottle from the bedside table and open it. You take my hands and cup them and pour the oil in. It is as if you opened the door to a tropical garden sweet with jasmine. And now you are slick and smooth to touch. My hands slide frictionless along your shoulders. You turn and I pour a little more oil into the well of my palm and rub your back, working your shoulder blades and down each bump of your spine. Over the sweet curve of your waist to the flare of your hips, sometimes pressing, sometimes so the palm of my hand barely touches you. I linger in the deep hollow of the small of your back and you moan and bend forward to lean against the bed, thrusting your hips and ass towards me.
I spill a little more of the oil onto your back just above the crease between your ass cheeks, spreading them slightly as I press and knead. My fingers slide between your ass cheeks and circle the bud of puckered skin there. One hand stays to play there while the other hand, slick with oil, slides to find your sweet, wet pussy.
“You are so hot,” I whisper, as my fingers part your lips, seeking and touching and reaching. I lean forward now and kiss your neck and the heat of my cock slides along your thighs and between your legs. My hands cannot be still and they roam your body, finding the rigid nipples on your hanging breasts and staying there to tease and stroke, first barely touching with the palms of my hands and then rolling your nipples between my fingers. I feel you arch under me, raising your ass, pushing into me. I lean back letting my fingers slide through your wetness and then sliding up to your ass, making you slick with your own moisture.
You reach for me, and the touch of your hand on my cock makes it almost leap. I moan and you laugh. Your fingers slide along the shaft, fingernail tracing the slit in the tip; my balls are tight and my breath is shallow. I take the bottle of oil and pour a little over your hand and now my cock is shining and tight and slick.
I hold your hip with one hand and with my hand on yours, guide my cock between the cheeks of your ass. My cock presses against you lightly, and together we slide the tip up and back and then I am there again. There you are tight and small and my cock is slick and wet with you and wet with the oil and I push in as you push back. It is so hot and tight inside you and I gasp and hold us there, not daring to move for a moment, and then I find control and slide in deeper and then back, deeper and back, feeling your hips match mine, your movement meet mine.
Time stops for us then and there is only the movement and the heat and the blending of shadow and light and our breathing and the touch of the wind all together.
But now I want more, want to taste you and feel your thighs around me. I pull back and kiss your ass, turn you over and move up to kiss your neck, find your lips with mine, your tongue with mine, first rushed together then lightly, lips moving to whisper words of lust and loving and desire and need. I move down to kiss your breasts, take your nipples in my mouth, first one and then the other, then down further. Kissing your belly, my tongue slips into your belly button and then further still over the coarser hairs, parting your warm and willing thighs, until my mouth finds your other lips and parts them with my insistent tongue. And now it is tongue and lips and breathe in you and over you. My tongue slides up to flick over your clit and then back down to reach in, and out, further down to the softest skin between your pussy and your ass, and back up again, and again, circling, flicking, dancing over you, dancing with the movement of your hips.
Your hands are in my hair, your knees have come up and your thighs open and close to grip me and then invite me in deeper. I am in you and with you. Your pulse is in my ears and my hands reach up along your belly and feel the rapid rise and fall of your breath. My tongue moves faster now, lightly, then deeper pressing into you, then lightly again. I feel you tense and tighten like a coiled spring, legs around me, fingers clawing at my neck and shoulders, breath ragged and harsh.
“Oh God.” It is a demand and a whimper, imploring and declaring, a statement and a question. You suddenly go rigid and thrust your hips out, one hand pulling me, in the other pushing me back. I feel ripples of sheer energy flow through you, as if I have initiated something that has gone out of any human control. You moan, a deep, savage sound, that sounds as if it were torn out of you.
