Soft Skinned Furry Animals

The soft skinned furry animals that we are. We are in bed together again after months of not, after exactly one year and eight months of not. We touch and we melt and we blend and we feel and we smell. My senses are afire, lit up. I know you. We’ve been lovers on and off in 3 or 4 rounds. I have lost count and we know, we both deeply know that we do not fit each other in a relationship, we’re too different and we don’t match.

But the chemistry, the pheromones, and the way we come together in our play is astounding. One of life’s great injustices that you can have such mind-blowing chemistry with someone, and yet be so ill suited for each other, a cruel, harsh irony on the part of our creator, the purpose of which escapes me. I feel your breath along my neck as you whisper, “My mistress, I missed you. I thought about kissing your ass, while I was fucking someone else. I never stopped thinking about you. I missed you my mistress.”

“I’m glad you think about me. I’m in you and I will always be in you,” I say. For a long moment I close my eyes and I ask you to love on me and you start immediately stroking my skin, lightly on my neck breathing into my hair and stroking my spine all the way down my back. I enjoy letting you touch me. You start to suckle my breasts and my body responds to your smell, to your touch, to your taste and I find it strangely pleasurable to be reminded of our tempestuous journey.

For several long minutes I dive into my own mind of pleasurable sensation and I dissolve. I‘m no longer thinking anything, no longer feeling anything that I can articulate. I’m pure sensation. Pure sensuality. I send up a silent prayer of gratitude for being human, for having this body, for its astounding ability to raise so much desire, and to bring me this much pleasure. I moan out loud, and I’m on the verge of coming, as you suckle my nipples one after the other for a long time, and gently feather lightly you touch my vagina in a breezy airy way and I am dripping, longing, stretching, aching for you.

I open my eyes and am again reminded of the fact that we’ve tried relationship 3 or 4 times already over a period of 8 years. I know in my heart that it won’t work, and yet as soon as I close my eyes, I’m back in my inner world of stunningly beautiful blooming botanical sensations. On the small of my back the little hairs are swaying, my nipples are so alert they could stop traffic, and my left ear is wet with your last kiss.

You left 2 days ago and I think the PH-value in my vagina is slowly returning to normal. It was so different to see you this time, while the sex was as awesome as always, the spell was strangely broken. I wasn’t able to sustain the fantasy, the imaginative, the ‘he is my soul-mate’ bullshit, that my mind usually runs, and that I naively fall into believing.

We fucked the last night and it was incomparable to any heights we have reached in the past from the standpoint of orgasm. After we fucked, you cried, and we talked and I was honest in a way I have never had the courage to be before. I feel free for the first time, free from you.

I’m not in love with you anymore, I said. I love you, I care about you, but I’m not in love with you anymore. That spell was broken last time we tried, I said. I don’t know if I can fall in love with you again. You’re not really available for love, commitment and relationship as I desire it, and you never have been as long as I’ve known you. I don’t know if I‘m capable of falling in love with you again. It’s like falling in love with something that isn’t really there to fall in love with – like falling in love with a fantasy.

I said all this and more, calmly and gently. I set myself free. I knew I was saying goodbye when I was fucking you. I felt it deep in my soul. I said, you can’t be what I need, and there is nothing wrong with what you are and what you offer and there is nothing wrong with what I need. They just don’t fit. I drew in a deep breath after I said it; I knew I had spoken what I needed to say. Then you spoke. You said, I can feel you’re different and you’re more available than I’ve ever experienced you before. It was like the spell of you being in love with me made it hard for me to connect with you, you said. I believe you, I said and I sat with that one for a while.

We went to sleep and woke up knowing you were heading to the airport. I made love to you one last time saying goodbye with every touch, with every caress, it was deep, it was connected, it was intimate, it was beautiful, and then you left.

I went to a workshop and got there early. Sitting in the parking lot in my car with a reduced fat turkey bacon breakfast sandwich and a two-shot venti decaf latte with nonfat milk from Starbucks. I cried so hard I couldn’t see through the windshield. If the window wipers could have wiped my face clean, I would have turned them on. Now two days after you left the PH-value of my vagina is returning to normal and so is my emotional barometer. It has been a journey of almost eight years, on and off, and I finally feel free to fully invest my love in someone else.

And it is done, is the sentence that I hear over and over in my head.

And it is done. And it is done. And it is done.