We had been cuddling in bed, but resisting anything more. His shoulder had been hurting with limited mobility all week, so I assumed a few more days of no-sex would be a good idea. He knew my allergies were causing me some havoc, so assumed I wanted sleep.
Our hands slid across skin, lingering on cock, breast and ass, as we enjoyed the closeness
“Why aren’t we having sex?” I asked, then learned about his assumption. The moment I told him I was fine, he took action to remedy the situation.
Our lovemaking was slow and purposeful. We held each other as close as we could – almost as if trying to merge our bodies together.
There was no kink.
There was no fantasy.
There was no power plays.
It was only he and I making love.
After it ended, we laid there in the same position, kissing each other gently, and I stroked his back and he, my hair. The emotion in that moment was still hanging in the air.
We both spend a lot of time fucking each other.
Or simply having sex to fill a need.
We spend a lot of time playing with each other.
We spend a lot of time exploring our individual kinks with others.
But, we both realized that this has been the missing piece recently.
Just my love and I connecting again on this more intimate level.
It has been too long.