A Change in Plans

It’d been a long weekend.  We were home finally, alone together after an intense weekend of interactions, both play and interpersonal.  Multiple, fluid relationships are rewarding, but complicated, and hard to balance at times, and this weekend highlighted that – both the rewards and the complexities.  I’d learned much over the weekend, but now I was ready to simply be, to relax with my SO, my partner, to reconnect with each other and rediscover each other.

We were ensconced on the couch, watching House reruns.  Or rather I was trying to watch a House rerun and read a book, he was flipping between House and three or four other shows, which would normally drive me batshit but only made me smile indulgently now.  Funny how the familiar becomes dear to you again when everything else has been off-kilter for a while.

I look over my book at him during a commercial.  “I want you to make love to me,” I say, stroking his arm with one bare foot.

He turns to me, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face.  “You do…” he replies, not a question.

“Yes.  Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt you inside me?”

He frowns.  He doesn’t know.  That’s because, of course, he has been inside someone, just not me.  I laugh at his consternation.  “Two weeks,” I supply.

“It hasn’t–!” he begins.

“It has,” I assert.  “J has been here the past two weekends, and you’ve fucked her.  I haven’t had your cock inside me since before then.”

Now he is suddenly concerned, worried that the green-eyed monster is raising its ugly head.  “No, no, that’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’ve enjoyed fucking her as much as you have, enjoyed watching you fuck her, enjoyed every minute of it.”  And indeed, I have.  “I just think it’s my turn now.”  He relaxes, smiles, reaches for me…

I laugh and shake my head.  “Not right now,” I say, though I have already begun to feel the familiar heat washing over me, the familiar ache between my legs, the tickle in my belly.  God, I want him so bad.

It’s true he hasn’t fucked me properly in two weeks.  We’ve had sex, with fingers and mouths and toys, with each other and with J, but I want him…I want to hear his breath coming quicker as his thrusts become deeper, I want to feel his hands on me, pinning me, holding me, pulling at me, I want to feel his long, hard cock inside me, filling me, pounding into me, and finally, releasing into me, filling me with his semen.

“Tomorrow,” I say firmly.

Now, I’m a pretty easy girl.  I love sex, I love sex in particular with this man, and I don’t hide it, don’t play games, don’t play hard-to-get.  He can see in my eyes how badly I want him, can read it in my voice, can hear it in my quickened breath.

“You want to wait until tomorrow?”

No, actually I want him now, right this minute, right on the couch, without even taking off our clothes, just shoving aside the pieces in our way…

“Let’s go on a date,” I say, and even I can hear the breathy quality of my voice, because I can’t help the way my heart is racing thinking about him shoving me back against the cushions, pushing up my skirt and aside my panties, and taking me.

“A date,” he repeats.  He looks so confused that I laugh.

“Yes,” I say, “you know, like when two people go out to dinner, and there’s wine and candlelight and they laugh and tease and flirt?”  I move so that I am laying half on his lap and look up at him.  I touch the side of his face, put my cheek next to his.  “We could have a quiet dinner,” I whisper in his ear, “drink a couple glasses of wine.  Not talk about anything important.  We’d sit side by side, and I’d put my hand in your lap.  Every so often I’d stroke your thigh, maybe accidentally run my fingers over your crotch.  You’ll put your hand on my thigh and feel the garters thru the thin silk of my skirt and know that I have dressed especially for you.  I’ll lean against your arm to make a point and press my breasts against you and you’ll want to cup them with your hands but will resist because we are in public.  And then we’ll come home…and you’ll follow me into the bedroom, where I’ll undress slowly for you, watching as your eyes follow my hands as they unbutton my blouse, as they pull my skirt off, revealing lace panties & bra, a garter and lace-edged stockings.  And when you finally touch me your hands will shake just a bit because you’ve had to wait so long to touch me like this…”

By now his hands are roaming over me, stroking my skin everywhere it is bared.  His breath is coming quicker, and he reaches a hand behind my head and pulls me to him for a deep kiss.  “You sure you want to wait?” he says.

Not for a minute!  I pull away.  “Yep,” I say, and go over to my side of the couch, not sure that I won’t start pulling his clothes off him if I stay so close to him, if he keeps touching me, kissing me…

We make plans.

Later that night I am laying on my side, reading, when he comes to bed.  He settles into his “hollow” as he calls it, the indention in the deep cushion of the mattress-topper formed in just his size and shape.

It takes me about a minute before I roll over to him, press myself against him, kiss his face and his neck.  I am hot and naked and so so wet.  He opens his eyes and raises his eyebrows at the look I give him.  Grins.  “Change in plans, huh?”

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