Nairobi Dreaming - Complete!

Whiskey on the rocks

I sprawled out on top of soft white sheets glazed in sweat, waves of pleasure pulsing through my body so intensely I could feel it reverberating in my molars. I felt like I was floating in a warm saltwater bath in the late afternoon sun. I felt like I was full of sticky, hot honey. In other words I felt fucking amazing.

I had had plenty of sex in my time. I had had the bad kind that left me feeling used, diminished or just terribly unsatisfied more times that I cared to admit but I had had also had plenty of pretty good sex. I had had lovers who really knew what they were doing, lovers who were vulnerable and thoughtful and lovers who made me laugh out loud.

But this, this had been different.

I had lost myself completely in him from the moment our lips locked and it had gone from sweet and soft to hard and rough to funny and intimate and back again. We had had sex three times and each time he brought me to some new, ridiculous, delightful, soul expanding crescendo. Time had become both elastic and meaningless and I don't remember once thinking about anything other than him and what we were doing. When I did finally glance at the clock I daw that two and a half hours had passed which was either a long time to have been fucking or no time at all for that amount of fun.

I turned my head to look at James. The dark waves clinging to his forehead were slightly damp. His eyes were shut, and he was smiling slightly. He was such a handsome man, all clean, bold lines and flawless, almost poreless skin.

Without opening his eyes he murmured. "Come over here."

I hesitated.

I had never been much of a cuddler. I had tried it a few times but it had always made me feel trapped, confined by the other person's body, too aware of their scent, their heat, the weight of their arm. I rarely lasted more than five minutes. Once, I had made it to ten and hated every minute of it.

"It's too hot," I said.

"It's not."

I decided now wasn't the time to explain my aversion to cuddles. I didn't want to ruin the moment - it was too perfect. I maneuvered myself over, draped one arm over his torso and lay my head down on his chest, expecting to immediately begin to start to want to fidget. Instead, I realized it felt nice. My head fit perfectly where it was.

"Mmmmm," He purred happily.

"You want to know something?" I asked.

"What's that?"

"You were right."

"About?"

"You don't suck in bed."

He laughed. "That's it? I just don't suck?"

"You know it was amazing."

Because of where I was, with my head on his chest, I couldn't see his face but I could hear the smile in his words. "It wasn't just amazing. It was the best."

We lay there for a long while and I basked in this new sensation, this new form of connection through cuddling. I felt safe and happy and both these things combined to also make me very sleepy. When I came to, we were still entwined. I pulled back, not because I was uncomfortable but because I was curious. I noticed he was fully awake, green eyes open.

"Can you tell me about your tattoos?" I asked.

He sat up, the slight film of sweat on his abs and pecs catching the late afternoon sun as his muscles tensed with the movement. He turned slightly so I could see the raven on his left arm, see again the way it seemed to be in mid flight and mid formation, the tips of its wings and tails turning to droplets of ink splatter.