Taking it To Another Level
Steve and I had a date. I was heading to his house to play pool after work. I think Thursday and Friday were the longest days of my life. They seemed to each last a lifetime. Steve texted Friday afternoon and said he was getting subs for dinner and asked what I wanted on mine. I told him lettuce, tomato, and green pepper. He said the place didn’t have green pepper. I told him that was fine. He said he was going to stop at the grocery store on his way home and get a green pepper just for me. I told him he didn’t have to and he simply responded with, “Hush.”
I picked Shane up at the sitter, got home, showered, and primped and was out the door in under 30 minutes. Once again I was struck with amusement at Bubba having always called me high maintenance. I looked damn good for only taking 30 minutes to get ready. Yes, I’m just *that* good!
When I got to Steve’s house, the sandwiches were on the table along with a plate of sliced green pepper. Oh, how my heart melted at that. Who knew a plate of green peppers could be one of the sweetest gifts I’ve ever received? We ate our dinner and once again, his hand kept returning to my knee. He seems to crave touch as much as I do.
I’d taken my computer to show him some pictures. We looked at them and since I have a bunch from when the kids were little, he got to see them as tiny children. He also got to see me 30 pounds heavier. Finally, he said, “Let’s shoot some pool.” I readily agreed.
I won the first game! Ok, it was because he scratched on the break but still, a win is a win. Oh, how I giggled that I won! We started the second game and I’m truly as bad as I thought I would be! I decided if I couldn’t win with skill, I’d use my feminine wiles to distract him. I play dirty pool. I think he kinda liked it because we had four balls left in play when the game to a screeching halt. We’d started kissing and ended up on the pool table with the remaining balls flying in all directions. My glasses quickly joined the scattered balls.
It felt so good to be kissing him; to be wanted by him. It was intense. And the Ghost was whispering once again. I told Steve that I was scared. He kissed me more and somehow my right leg found itself wrapped around his waist; whether by my doing or his, I don’t know. He lifted me by that leg, grabbed my left leg, carried me to his bed. For such a large man, he laid me down gently, even though I could sense the power an d passion in him.
After some more time simply making out, I looked at him and told him I didn’t know if I was ready for this. It was too intense, it’s been happening too fast. He said, “I’d rather not do anything than have you scared.” He rolled over and pulled me to him. He was trying to calm down, get himself under control, bank the fires. I told him I was sorry and that it wasn’t him that I was afraid of. We talked then.
I asked him how many women he’d been with and we talked about that for a bit. He told me a little about his two marriages.
I told him about my past, about the fact that each sexual experience I’d had, except one, had involved either coercion or outright rape. I had learned that I was only as important as what was between my legs. I was fighting that message so much because I know he cares for me.
There is, however, part of me that wonders if he’ll turn to mist in the morning. Will he simply cease to exist in my world?
We talked for a long time. I let him see me – the fears, the doubts, and the hope. I let him see that I really do want him, but I want him not to disappear on me either. I see a possibility of this turning into something and I don’t want to lose him. I asked him if I could touch his skin because I needed that connection. I needed to feel that he was real beneath my fingertips. He feels good. His fingers soaked up the feel of his skin, delighted in the tiny quiver in his belly when I ran my hands over him.
Physical desire is some times hard to fight. I am tired of being afraid. I told him that I have very strong body boundaries in place and no one touches me now without my consent. I then asked him to make love to me. Yes, I was still frightened of all the possibilities that would come with the sun, but at that moment, I simply didn’t care. My need to be with him was much greater than my need to guard myself.
He makes me feel beautiful and desirable. He makes me feel passion. He makes me feel treasured and cared for and protected. And he makes me want to comfort him and protect him. I don’t want him to fix me and I don’t want to fix him. I want us to be a comfort to each other, to help each other through the struggles of life.
I enjoyed myself with him. I felt awkward and a bit self-conscious. It’s been so long for me and he is rather proportional so I felt very full but it wasn’t painful at first. It felt wonderful. I’m glad I learned my lesson about just enjoying and feeling good and not making it all about the orgasm. I still have issues in this area, this is still a Ghost who needs to be silenced. Actually, looking back on it, I’m glad I didn’t orgasm. Sure, it would’ve been nice, but I still need to learn that it is ok not to. I can enjoy myself and find pleasure without having that Holy Grail be all it’s about.
As we were snuggling, I saw a change come over Steve. I saw something shift in him and was a bit scared that this is when the possessiveness would kick and the hidden abuser would come out. He’d staked his claim after all. But no. What I saw in him was an easing, almost a visible sigh of contentment and relief. Whereas he played with me before, I saw a more light-hearted side of him. He was more relaxed and seemed more buoyant somehow. We laid together for quite some time, and how we laughed. We carried on, we talked, we teased, we laughed.
All I wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms. Since we both had children waiting on us, we finally, regretfully, parted and got dressed. Leaving him was so hard to do. He said he felt bad that he’d been gone from his son for as long as he had already and I said I understood but I didn’t want to let him go. He carries as much Daddy guilt about spending time on himself as I carry Mommy guilt for doing the same thing.
It is now 10 am the following morning and I know he’ll call or text. I know he sleeps in on Saturdays and with being out so late last night, he will definitely sleep the morning away. The Ghost is whispering that I won’t hear from him again but I know the lie that it is. I am ignoring the Ghost so its voices are getting stronger. I continue to ignore. I know Steve. He’s a good man. He’ll call.
I had sex with a man last night who cares for me, who didn’t just use me for sex, or wasn’t just doing me a favor. I have a shot at a future with this man.
My sexual self is healing more and more each day and Steve is now a part of this journey.