Uncommon Curiosity

(Read here for Kyle’s take on Saturday.)

Saturday morning dawned on the two happily well-fucked lovers enjoying the pleasures of sleeping in.  My memory’s a bit fuzzy, but what I can recall looks, in my mind’s eye, like cool sunlight slipping through the blinds, white sheets, pale skin, and Kyle smiling at me and stroking my head.  I love waking up next to him, our limbs entwined…he feels like summer vacation – being with him clears my mind and calms my heart, and I sleep a lot when he’s around, because I can, because my head slows down and lets me finally relax.

I know we made love right after waking up, but I can’t quite remember the specifics.  Looking at the pictures I took, I see a tangle of bodies, glimpses into the moments before, between and after, as we rolled and tickled, wrestled and kissed, giggled and sighed.  Making love to him is beyond amazing – his body is so beautiful, so strong, so playful…and he almost never tires of the game.  Pressing inside, he’s warm and wet, and I love to run my fingers along his soft yielding flesh, teasing him, before letting the pad of my finger press that high spongy ridge.  He moans and arches, letting me push in further, fingers playing him like a clarinet, listening to his gasps, watching his face, his back, feeling his hands on my arms, pulling, now harder, kissing his belly, but never losing the rhythm, the pace that sets his voice high and keening as I feel him squeeze and let go, squeeze and let go, in a symphony of release as he cries out to everyone within earshot how good it feels to be loved hard and well.

I hold him there, right on the edge of insanity for a moment, and then bring him back down to look at me, kiss me, love me, while my fingers keep him ready.  With a nibble and a lick, he’s moaning again, this time pressing against the tongue that strokes his cock – now lapping, now sucking, sending shudders rippling through him as my fingers press deeper, finding that secret spot only I know.  I slide across it, making him groan, never letting my tongue falter, licking and sliding and then sucking and scratching as he rises again towards ecstasy.  In an hour, he can easily come ten or twenty times, each time returning back to me to kiss and love and praise, though with an ever-diminishing vocabulary until it’s all “ohhhhhh”  and “yessssss” and “babybabybabybabyyyyyyy.”  He is my boy, my girl, my slut and my handsome, beautiful lover.

Too soon it was time to get breakfast, and so I took him to the restaurant to replenish his strength.  We sat eating eggs and sausage and toast and potatoes and talked about everything and nothing – it didn’t really matter, we were so happy to be together.  After breakfast, we walked back to our room and I had time to take more pictures.  He is so wonderfully tolerant of my sudden urges, when I say, “don’t move!  Just like that” and grab my camera to capture a little of the magic we create together.

All-told we were in bed until 2:30 that day – our plans to go to the coast set aside as we remembered how good it feels to be naked together.  But by 2 we were famished, and quickly showered (ok, that’s a lie – it was a long, hot, sexy shower – somehow hunger ceases to be a consideration when he’s wet and ready) and then got dressed and headed out to have lunch at Crepes Café in Menlo Park – one of my favorite restaurants.  He ordered one with caramelized onions and bacon and I ordered one with swiss and tomato, and we sat back to gaze at the grey skies and talk about everything, and nothing, once again.  He told me about his life in his 20s, how he became an engineer, and the winding paths that brought him to where he is today.  I know I talked, but I can’t remember what about – all I can remember are his eyes, his face, the way his hand felt on mine, the way I feel so at home and so happy when he’s near me.

(“Evil?  Little ol’ me?”)

The crepes were wonderful, although the waiter/cook forgot his bacon (the poor man was working the shift alone – we guessed at least one someone had called in sick) and then we enjoyed a crepe with lemon and sugar (one of my favorites) for dessert:

After all that eating, Kyle was itchy to move, and so I drove him to the Baylands, the long expanse of salt marsh that sits at the southern tip of the San Francisco Bay.

The sun was setting quickly behind the clouds, and it was chilly, but we walked, my hand held in his inside his pocket, and talked about his world and my world and the way he never notices people watching him and I always do.  We talked about stereotypes and expectations, and how he smashes those to smithereens for everyone who meets him.

As we passed by a pole on the side of the path, Kyle shot me a sly smile.  I asked if he was going to show me his pole-dancing skills, and he was on it immediately, grabbing the pole and grinding like a pro:

(I imagine y’all can guess why I like *this* picture so much…)

As we walked, we passed other folks out for a stroll and I have to say – I like to think that the Bay Area is a more open-minded place, a place where two women can walk, hand-in-hand, without anyone so much as blinking.  However, out of all the places we’ve traveled together so far– Seattle, Olympia, Brooklyn, San Jose – walking in Mountain View that night I felt more ill-will than I ever had before.  We passed frowns and anger and one woman who even turned away and walked her dog the long way around us so she wouldn’t have to deal with the horror of responding to the “good evening” I had wished her as we passed.   (Later, he suggested that she was worried we might pervert her dog.  I’m guessing that dog perversion was most likely a talking point, along with the heresy of mixing peas and carrots on one plate leading to the downfall of civilization AS WE KNOW IT, at the Yes on 8 town meetings.)  Thankfully, Kyle didn’t see most of the ugliness, and we discussed how interesting it was that, in order to survive, he had developed a blind eye to it in his life, and how that made him a much happier person than he would be otherwise.  We wondered out loud whether it was better to be half-blind and happy, or to actually see the hatefulness of some of the people around him and know how they felt.

The cold and darkness finally got the best of us and we headed back to the hotel to get ready for the evening’s diversion, Kyle’s first visit to a dungeon.