The Things He Does to Me...

Tonight I'm having a small night cap, and with every drink I find myself dreaming about him more.  He is so sexy.  So exciting.  Sip.  I remember every one of our encounters together.  The way his kisses make my heart pound.  The feel of his hands running up my leg, over my hip, and across my belly.  Nobody touches me like he does.  Nobody ever could.  Sip. When he touches my skin, he touches my heart.  I wonder if he knows that?  Sip.

When I first met him, he was a scrawny little 13-year-old boy.  His hair was too long and so cute in its disarray.  Nearly every one of his shirts looked exactly like the others--they all had the same design to them.  He had the most distinctive shuffle.  Sip.  Shoulders a little hunched from all the time at his computer, he always does a little hop before he starts walking.  If he were only a silhouette, I would always know it was him.  He is that special to me.

Now, he's certainly changed in looks.  He has grown, and filled out.  My gosh is he sexy!  Sip.  His hands are strong and sure where they were once hesitant.  His lips find all the most sensitive and excitable places of my flesh.  He is incredible.  Sip.  Everything that I dreamed of him being all those years we were apart.

The most amazing thing to me is what the thought of him does to me.  He makes me so excited, makes me feel so sexy, just thinking about the way he touches me drives me wild.  I long to be closer to him so I can show him how sexy I think he is.  I want to make him feel as turned on as he makes me feel.  The thought of getting him this worked up...I actually enjoy that more than being turned on myself.  How strange is that?  :)

I finish my nightcap and head off to bed, certain my dreams will be good.

My Inspiration

When I think about him, I suddenly find myself wanting to make my life better in every way.  The happiness he brings to my day gives me such energy, such drive to get things accomplished.  I love the way I feel like I can take on the world, I can reach any goal.  Just from spending a little time with him.  I think it's that knowing he's there, always just on the other end of the phone, I know it's okay if things don't work out for me.  I can be turned down for a job, or find a new dent on my car, and it's really no big deal.

He doesn't know, but he's my inspiration.  He's the reason I write again.  The reason I bound out of bed in the morning, eager to start on the day.  He makes me so happy, just thinking about him brings the biggest smile to my face.  I doubt he realizes how much he means to me.  How could he?  I still haven't managed to tell him all the things that I feel.  He's just...wonderful.  :)  He's wonderful, and I love him.

In a moment of silence...

When I look in to his eyes, I find myself wishing that he knew how much I love him.  That I've loved him for more than a decade.  He takes my hand, and I absolutely melt.  There is no room for stress or sorrow as long as he's with me.  When he tries to leave, though...I just know I'll fall apart.

We sat across the table from each other, thoroughly enjoying our delicious Indian dinner of Lamb Saag and Lamb Vindaloo-laughing that we each chose the same protein-and for a while nothing is said.  So much of the time we don't have to say a word to each other.  From the beginning, we've been able to read each other's eyes.  I look at him, knowing that he loves me though he hasn't said it.  The softness I see in his eyes is fascinating.  I'm drawn to him, to continue looking at him.  I can see it making him nervous, and I find that adorable.

"You're so quiet," he says.

I know I am.  There are a thousand thoughts running through my head, none of which know how to come off my lips.  I gaze at him a long moment, basking in how much I love this man.  I cherish every moment with him.  How do I tell him these things?  You'd think it would be easy, but it's really not.  Just looking at him, I get completely tongue-tied.  All I want is to run to his arms, lay my head against his chest, and stay there forever.  I want to call him my own, and know that I am his.

How do I tell him that when he smiles at me, I feel young and carefree again?  That his smile is what prompted me to take his hand after so many years, and run with him to the carnival ride, laughing like a little girl?  How do I tell him that joy to me is running my fingers through his hair, or that contentment is laying in his arms after making sweet, passionate love?

I realize that I've been gazing at him for several minutes in silence, smiling uncontrollably, and I giggle.  I don't know how to tell him what I'm thinking.  I don't know if I ever will.  But I think he can tell by my smile that I love him and I'm so happy he's here.