I can’t figure out how to shut the door or turn on the light, but then finally I push hard enough, flip the latch, and the tiny airplane bathroom illuminates. I want to slam my body around inside of it, test the boundaries of this little room, force myself to expand to the confines of the space.
Really, I want to feel anything other than the way my heart is bursting in my chest, thickening, pulse quickening and I can feel the pump of my blood pressure in my veins from neck to ankles.
I rip open the fly of my jeans and shove my hand under my briefs. My clit (that she calls my dick and oh I love how she engenders me) is half-hard and has been all week that I’ve been next to her. I roll it in my fingers, remove my hand and spit onto my fingertips, then replace it and start jacking off.
Anything but what I feel.
My cunt swells fast, opens, and I remember, easily, the feeling of fullness, the moment her fist pushed through and swallowed into me. The soft soft kissing of her lips on my dick, on my lips, as she moved her tongue so sweet and slow. I remember my own legs splayed, thighs to the bedspread as she kept me poised on her tongue for an orgasm that opened a line from cunt to heart like an earthquake does to the ground, deep shaking, trembling at a core balanced on lava.
And before:
Standing in the kitchen, she’s sitting on the counter, my hand under her small jean skirt, pushing panties aside, finding her wet, finding her clit and pressing as she gasps in my ear, ejaculates on my black tee shirt, my stomach, warm and wet.
Later:
Her mouth on my cock outside on the veranda. I have her backed into the corner with hands on either wall and then one hand in her hair, one hand on my cock, where I can feel her lips, her tongue on the underside of my cockhead, her throat where it is wet and slick when she swallows me deep.
After that:
I take her to bed, fuck her hard from behind, plowing, her face buried in the mattress, hands grasping at the sheets, my knees turning red from the friction against the rough comforter, hands on her hipbones like handles and I slide in and out, hard and thick.
Before:
There she was on the chair, legs up and we weren’t even doing anything but reading magazines, drinking coffee, but my hand on her thigh started my dick trembling so I just kept going, fingers inside her, thrumming her clit until she came, gasping, grasping at my biceps.
I had her in nearly every room of that little condo, our palm-tree view of the sunset we’d watch from the king-sized bed, her body shaking and pulsing, so vivid.
Remembering the lust pushes out, for the moment, the pain of leaving, the rush of loss, the ache of absence.
Back in the tiny bathroom on the airplane, I push my fist to the wall opposite and my ass into the door, praying it’ll hold firm, fingers working my dick, remembering her fingers, wishing mine were hers, remembering how I fucked her with this same hand so recently. I jack my own dick like I did her, hard, same rhythm that she likes, and I come, grunting low, pressing my body to the edges of the small space, and I don’t start crying again, but I do remember her sweet smile and instead of buckling under the weight I swallow hard, wash my hands, and return to my seat to stare again out the window, as the sun sets over the Mexican horizon.
the view, and the girl
It is so damn hard to suddenly realize that emptiness after being with a lover 24/7. I hope you two have another planned trip/meeting. Congrats on being a finalist of TLL!
Damn, I think I'm feeling flushed.
I so love how you combine the lust and the poingant emotion of your connect with DD so seamlessly in your writing. Totally moves me.
j.
Ah, Sinclair….. Sorry your time with Miss DD had to end. It sounds like it was very hot. Do you two have another visit planned?
Jan
wow. wow. that's hot. sad, but hot.
perfect segue for the shameless self-promotion of my new lesbian sex blog, swell. looking for comments, questions and contributions to make it an even better resource for lesbians interested in thinking and sharing about sex. so far so good and it can only get better.
dawn, I'd be much more inclined to look you up, read your blog, and link to you if you simply comment rather than leave a call for readers and contributions to your own blog. self-promotion is great & necessary, but watch the etiquette.
i hear you. i’ve had a personal blog for two years and learned right quick that you just get on people’s nerves when you shamelessly self-promote. however, i’m taking the etiquette risk with this blog b/c i feel excited about sharing info about sex and a strong, slightly geeky desire to shout it from the rooftops and draw people in. my dream is that lots of different kinds of dykes will be able to share information and learn from each other and… yeah… maybe i’m a little over-eager. but i’m not shooting for cool-points, i just want to bring people together. point taken, though. thanks for not simply deleting the comment altogether.
Wow. Amazing writing. And as a former queer/gender theory scholar, I love how the clit becomes a dick. So many possibilities in that move. This post is hot and smart … you’ve impressed the hell out of me. (And made me wet at work.) ;-)
Recentley stumbled across your blog, and so glad that I did. I just started blogging, and this kind of writing/insight is the reason I did. I too am involved with a woman who doesn't live nearby. Time restraints can make those limited passionate encounters even more intense. Looking forward to reading through your archives!
Wow! That was hot/heartbreaking. Such a beautiful picture too! Sounds like you had a wonderful time. Hope you get to see her again soon.
Too bad your time together ended so fast. Hopefully you are planning to meet again?