J and I have spend the last two months falling in love. It's been incredible, and I feel that it really is incredible that I've met him at all. How did it even really happen? How does one actually go from meeting someone for the first time, being a little frightened of them, to loving them? Even after reflection, when I have traced the path back to that day, it seems so unlikely, so reliant on chance that I could weep from the miraculousness.
The visit before last was the one that sealed the deal. Delicious texts, slightly rude (how lovely), let to me saying I totally adore you. I wasn't meaning to say that I loved him, even though by that point I did. But he did what I'm learning is his usual trick of wonderfully seeing right to my core, to my tenderest parts, already knowing what I haven't had the courage to say. Fuck. I totally adore you also. That's got it out in the open xxx Not that it was that well hidden...was his reply. Cue heart pang and melting into the bus seat. I'm like Charles Bingley from Pride and Prejudice - not confident to be fully in love withour proper encouragement - also known as doubting Thomas. I wasn't quite sure if that meant what I thought it did. So I waited until he said it again.
I'm now on the other side of the world, back home with family for Christmas. I miss him. I keep thinking of our last day together before I left. I keep thinking of having his head between my legs and how it was the first time he brought me to climax himself, without any help from me. That's awesome.
That leads me to last night with T, who has come home with me. He was massaging my body, and I knew he wanted sex. The arousal doesn't come so quickly with me anymore. I let him massage me, but told him that it wasn't a definite green light on the sex front (bit awkward at his mother's place) but he was ok with that. He made my body feel good, easing the tension in my shoulders and the pain in my thighs, before brushing his hands against me and massaging my pussy. He did it sweepingly, and I wasn't sure if he meant to do it or not (he totally did - well played T) and then continued to do it, until I was almost weeping with desire, and longing for him to touch my clit. When he did, he brought me to orgasm within about three minutes - my fastest ever!
I wonder whether I'm chilling out more on the orgasm front, and just riding the pleasure plains. Maybe letting go? Maybe somehow finding it easier to fantasise? I'm not sure, but T seemed delighted, and fuck it, so was I!! We finished off with him fucking me from behind and we watched ourselves in an enormous mirror. Hot. I wasn't wearing my glasses so my body was in delightful soft focus (for once), and I what I saw I definitely couldn't criticise! It was joyful.
