“Need you,” I rasp.
“You have me,” she croons, kissing my neck and giving it a bite.
I move back down her body, this time to taste her sweet pussy. Her hips buck, and her gasps get louder as I lick and suck in just the way she likes. She’s shamelessly riding my face, and I’m living for it. Her legs start to shake as she nears her climax, before they clamp around my head the same way her pussy clamps around my tongue. I will never get tired of hearing her scream my name or the taste of her when she comes.
She smiles at me lazily as I make a show of licking her arousal off of my lips. When I reach for a condom in the bedside drawer, her hand comes to my wrist.
“I’ll do it,” she coos.
Tearing open the wrapper, she gives me a few firm strokes before unrolling the condom down my length. I am painfully hard and can’t wait to sink into her.
“I’m thinking I need to schedule a vasectomy soon. Feeling you without a barrier would be mind bending,” I groan as I hover over her and line myself up. We’ve talked about going bare, but birth control is not a hundred percent effective, so we don’t want to take that risk. She nods her agreement, pulls me closer, and wraps her legs around me.
“Want to feel your weight on me,” she whispers. That’s been another huge step for her. While there is still her need to be in control of what we’re doing, she trusts me enough to be on top of her, pinning her down. Her scars will always be there, but witnessing her healing has been the most wonderful, gratifying thing I’ve ever experienced.
We both gasp as I rock into her, sliding home in one easy stroke. I rest on my forearms, cupping her face and kissing her while I just enjoy the feel of being inside her. She doesn’t pressure me to start moving, we simply stay connected while we make out and stare at each other. The intimacy of the moment tugs at my entire center, as if our very souls are joining. We murmur sweetly to each other, and she gasps when I gently suck on the sensitive spot beneath her ear. I’ve never felt both so emotionally and physically close to someone.
After a few minutes, she presses her feet onto my ass to silently urge me to move. It feels different in the best way, now that we’ve both confessed how much we love each other. With that veil of uncertainty removed, it’s like making love in full technicolor. Every sensation is heightened by how much I feel for this woman.
The pleasure builds slowly with every dragging thrust, a creeping heat that starts in the bottom of my spine, andradiates all of the way to the tips of my fingers. My movements pick up speed and intensity as she meets me stroke for stroke, until we’re both right there.
“Love you endlessly, mi vida,” I whisper on her lips.
“Love you so much,” she whispers back, before we both fall over the edge into bliss.
Chapter 27
Celeste
Bowling has never been my strong suit since I’m the gutter ball queen, but when the folks from my anger management class decided to get together for a social outing, I couldn’t refuse. Phyllis approved heartily when she heard us all talking about it after our last class.
“Bonding through sports and games is a fantastic way to work through anger, it’s a wonderful idea,” she encouraged. “I’d like you all to talk about what you’ve learned without me looming over you, there might be things you’ll discover in a different setting. Please bring your thoughts to the next session.”
So now here I am, enjoying a beer with some mozzarella sticks, and chatting with the rest of the class while we play a couple of half assed games of bowling. This unlikely, ragtag, completely disparate group of people becoming friends is not something I ever saw coming. We can relate to each other in ways not many other people can, and it makes me feel not so useless and alone.
The bowling alley isn’t crowded, and we’re off to the far end, well away from the two other groups playing right now.There is something so satisfying about hearing the snap of the ball hitting the pins against a backdrop of nineties grunge bands.
“Have you all survived your one on one meetings with Phyllis?” asks Maya, who is probably my favorite of the group.
“Mine was last week, and it went better than I thought it would,” says Aiden. “She didn’t sit there judging me for trashing my office, even though she very well could have. My big takeaway she gave me is that I need friends I can actually talk to on a deeper level, beyond sports and shit talk, to help process my emotions. My wife leaving me had me feeling so much shame and regret that it all became a powder keg. She described it as allowing the pressure from my anger to slowly release through confiding instead of letting it become an explosion by bottling things up.”
I nod in understanding.
“She’s right. Until I started confiding in my sister, and now my husband, there was so much built up in me. It’s so incredibly hard to open yourself up like that, but it’s worth it,” I tell him.
“I think a lot of anger and frustration comes from not feeling understood, or seen, so having someone who gets you helps,” chimes in Zoey, the other woman in our group of seven, and we all murmur our agreement.
Chris rejoins us after throwing his ball, and he’s clearly the ringer since it’s his second strike of the night. We all give him a high five since we are just bowling for fun. My score is currently five and my competitive ass doesn’t really care. I’m relaxed, enjoying having these people to commiserate with.
“If it means keeping a decent relationship with my ex-wife and my kids, I’ll do it. Hell, if I had done that sooner,maybe I’d still have a wife,” Aiden says brokenly. There’s a lot of sorrow mixed with determination in his statement, and I hope he’s able to keep doing the work. All of us encourage him, and promise to support him.
We all start talking about the what ifs in our respective situations. What if I had just left the bar the night that asshole wouldn’t leave me alone? What if Chris hadn’t spilled hot coffee on himself when he was in a rush to work, causing him to get extreme road rage when someone cut him off that resulted in an altercation?
Then we turn the conversation toward how to stop it from happening again. Zoey favors breathing exercises and meditation. Another guy from the group, Tyler, has gotten into MMA as a productive outlet for his aggression. Both Maya and I love having our pets to help calm us down. She’s adopted a cat since I met her in that first class that she and her son are obsessed with.
The night continues like that, all of us trading stories and learning from each other. We’re a diverse collection of messy and imperfect people, but are trying hard to navigate our way to becoming better. I can see the changes in us over the past couple of months that give me hope we’ll all be ok, and we’ll also have a lot to talk about with Phyllis in our next session.
A few days later, I open the doors to my non-profit space, and take in the blank canvas. Signing the lease not long after I looked at it was exhilarating, like I was signing a contract for the fresh start I want to give other women. There is definitely a long road ahead, though. Obtaining the proper business permits, tax documents, having it legally incorporated,and getting the space ready for actual use will take a lot of time. I also have to interview staff, including two more directors, since there legally has to be three for a non-profit in New Jersey. It doesn’t scare me, I’m so ready to put in the work to make this place everything I’ve dreamed about.
