As my better half said in his post yesterday, we’ve been incredibly busy. Ever since the week I turned 22, life has been moving forward at a quite frankly alarming speed, resulting in him and me shlepping my stuff over from North West London to North London one grey afternoon. From then on, Christmas took over our lives, and aside from unpacking shit, I have also managed to survive a movie marathon, dinner at his friend’s house (and what a loverly bunch they are) and assorted Christmas celebrations with him and 16 of his relatives. And also the Mayan Apocalypse. But when you’ve sat through two raptures twiddling your thumbs and wondering if you should go out for a shop, you kinda know what to do.
But that’s neither here nor there.
The truth is that all this insanity has left us a bit listless. And as Loverboy stated, we were completely out of energy for any sexy time activities.
Or so I thought.
After binging on Red Dwarf I episodes, we lay in bed, cuddling and giggling over Lister and the rest. I felt kissy, even though I was at that point coming down with a throat infection.
“Are you not scared of getting my bug?”
He shook his head.
“I promise I’ll take care of you.”
I kissed him again and again until I felt dizzy. The next thing I remember is him rolling on top of me and planting kisses up and down my neck. God, I wanted him so much.
“Do you want to have sex?”
YES OH GOD YES.
Before I stripped down to my nothings, I held him.
“Do I what?”
“Want to have sex?”
He lay me down, and after a couple of seconds trying, he was inside me. It felt like a reconnection. Like something I desperately needed to feel over the past couple of days (weeks, even). We were close, breathing heavily, little moans escaped my mouth. God, this Loverboy of mine. He makes my core tremble.
Desperately, we fucked each other, until we could do no more. He collapsed, pulled out and snuggled up to me.
“How do you feel?”
And that’s all I really wanted.