Hold You Forever

There’s a tenderness in our interaction that has returned or perhaps deepened. After one month of sex everyday (and writing about it), I’d definitely say our relationship is better both in the bedroom and out.

In January, we only missed engaging in sex on two days. And on those days we missed, my husband and I were still very close and loving. More days than not we had intercourse more than once! The take away for me has been how important it is to prioritize physical connection with your partner. Once you get used to daily sex, missing it for more than a day feels wrong like you didn’t get that cup of coffee or bit of chocolate you earned.

My husband too hasn’t masturbated at all. I haven’t stumbled upon one little wet cum rag in our bed or on the floor like I used to. Every single drop of his cum has been for me and with me. I swallowed some, but most of it went in my little pussy.

I felt the tenderness last night. We had our usual tango class, dinner, and nightly kid rituals. By the time we got in bed, it was late and I wanted only to sleep. We curled up in our puzzle piece position and snuggled cozily like soulmates. He wrapped one arm under my body with his hand landing on my breasts. The other arm was draped across my stomach tucking the other hand under me. Our legs were scissored together with his semi-hard dick wedged between my legs but not inside of me. It kissed my pussy lips and rested like her body guard.

“I want to hold you forever,” my husband says as he kisses my neck. He nestles his face next to mine and pulls my body even closer to his. We are one, and I feel something so spiritual at that moment. I wonder if we’re connected in a different realm, if our souls are always searching for each other, if we’re the same soul reuniting with parts of itself. I wonder too how I got to be so lucky.

I’ve given him all of me, and I feel like he’s done the same. Our life is a genuine we, and the best parts are flavored with my ubber femininity. It’s a sensation I never desired because I didn’t know it truly existed.

All my life, I’ve focused on education and a career thinking wealth and success would deliver my life’s true satisfaction. I wasn’t like my sister who always seemed to need a man to prop her up. She yearned to be loved and cared for by a man so deeply that she gave up opportunities to grow and be challenged and support herself. Being “in love” is her purpose in life, it’s also her biggest downfall.

Ironically, I’ve ended up with what she wanted without trying for it all. When I divorced my first husband and found myself dating again, my goal was simply to find a mate who shared similar ambitions and dreams. I wanted a man who was like me but better, a man who was strong and hardworking and good looking and could make money. I wanted a man who thought I hung the moon or at least acted like it. And I was willing to not be with a man if he wasn’t right for me.

I set so many boundaries when my husband and I were dating too. After a few months, he wanted me to move in with him. Hell, there were several occasions he practically begged me to pack up my home and my child and relocate to his home so we wouldn’t have to say goodbye on Sunday evenings.

My sister would have said yes, choosing instant gratification over long-term goals, but I said no every time. I told him then that I wanted my son to be stable and that I would only truly share a bed with him if we were both married and living in our own home, not his ex-wife’s house and definitely not my ex-husband’s.

He disliked my rules but they gave him a purpose, they fueled his craziness and produced some amazing results. The boundaries also cemented his respect for me. He knows I’m an expensive diamond to be had by only the man who works hard and earns it, and that makes him proud to wear our wedding ring.

My sister isn’t married but lives with a guy who.. let’s be honest… treats her like shit. I have no idea what their sex life is like or whether she truly loves him, but I do know they have a lot of issues. He puts her down and makes her feel like she doesn’t “do” enough. She works full time and they divide the bills, but he expects her to be the full-time domestic help as well.

I question if she knows what true love is or if she believes it to be constant turmoil. I learned that kind of love from my parents and left my first husband because our marriage had become eerily similar. I’d rather be alone than crying all of the time. But I would not rather be alone than fucking all of the time!

“Morning, my queen.” His hand reaches over to my body and secures my hip. I’m on my side turning off my annoying alarm. Thank God it’s Friday, I say to myself. I get to sleep in on the weekends.

“Morning my love,” I turn in his direction.

He opens his covers and invites me to his side and then to rest on top of him. We snuggle like this for a few moments waking up feeling the warmth and coming to our senses.

“I love your gorgeous body,” he whispers as his hands rub my back and my butt. One hand discovers my nipple and slightly tugs at it.

“I love you,” I whisper back. “I love you so much it hurts.”

His morning hard has doubled in size under me. One of his fingers reaches down to press the head of his dick into the opening of my pussy.

“I’m not wet baby,” I whine a little yet secure in his embrace. I flip my hair to the other side and kiss his cheek. He smells refreshed and manly.

“You’re plenty wet, my love,” he says calmly holding me closer, not letting me move. I love belonging to him, and he knows it. “My big dick is raging hard and it’s full of cum.” He pats my pussy a little with it. “And this is my little cum spot.” He pushes a little. “She gets me off everyday.” His dick is so big I feel like a virgin all over again. “I need your tight little pussy.” He’s almost fully in. I open her up and relax my stance. “That’s a good girl,” he says. “Pleasure that dick.”

I sat up on him pushing my hands into his chest. My breast squeezed between my arms and my head fell back as I gasped. I rode his dick like a hungry whore grinding deeper and deeper with a quick rhythm. I glanced down at him and he starred up at me.

“I love you, my queen,” he said like a beg. His face was rippled like he was holding back tears. Really he was holding back his raw emotions, his intense sensation until he couldn’t hold the orgasm any other.

I rode him to ecstasy and felt the pulsing of his cum into me. It was thick and important, like I did my most important task of the day before 7am. He pulled me to his chest and flipped the covers back over us as I crawled my legs against him and let go.

We held out bodies together for a minute or two before I slowly popped him out and dismounted from this cowboy.

I still can’t believe fucking is such an important part of my life’s work.. me, the girl who went to college and owns a business, me, the girl who studied Arabic and reads non-fiction. But life with my husband is infinitely better than supporting myself all alone, and sex puts me in contact with my body, my creativity, my spirit, with my divinity. It makes me feel alive and more like… me. Sex brings out the golden goddess and her sparkle dusts everything around me. It’s something so simple, so carnal, so archaic, so nasty yet it’s also so peaceful, profound, and chalk-full of loving energy.