Sunday, April 21, 2024

Vacation

  

When I was young, my family used to rent summer cottages down the shore. These are small houses with three of four rooms designed for summer living, and a near perfect hide away off the highway but near enough the bay and ocean that you can smell the salt in the air and hear the constant call of gulls overhead.

I imagine taking you to such a place for a few days, stocking up with enough food and drink so that we would not have to leave the place for the whole time unless we wanted to, and then perhaps only to wander out into the dark at night to gaze at the stars from the small back yard.

For me, it would be an opportunity to play and pretend; acting out odd little fantasies we might have but never dared to do elsewhere: boss and secretary, rich woman and workman, even master and slave. Although the most fun would be to see what each room had to offer, to spend one day in each room making love in as many ways as possible, up, down, around, or whatever, exhausting ourselves and our imaginations knowing that the next day we would move on to the next room where we might test the limits of love making there: kitchen, bedroom, living room, porch, even outdoors if the location is remote enough.

Sometimes, we would be rough, playing the game to the most physical possible, but often we would be tender, too, me caressing every part of you under candle light, you caressing me in the same special places – my tongue playing over every inch of you and you doing the same for me – eventually, evolving back into something more aggressive, me inside of you, you legs around me as if holding on for life.

I imagine walking into a room, pushing everything off a table, then laying you down on it, my face pressed between your legs, my body easing up, until my lips find your breasts, and suck, then up again until my mouth is around your mouth and I am inside of you.

I want to sneak up behind you while you are sitting on the couch, turning you, so that your mouth faces my growing painful part so that you can suck on it.

I want to find you at the refrigerator, bending over the bottom shelf, and press myself into you, again and again.

I want to find you in the shower, and slip in beside you, and make love standing up under its spray, the water growing cold as we grow hotter and hotter.

I want you to come up to me on porch swing, settling down on me as I sit, rocking me with all you have until I erupt inside of you.

I want to lay down in the dark with you on blanket outside, the two removing all to press our naked selves again each other.

I want in the end to make love so much and for so long, that even when I am exhausted and limp I want to keep on trying, using my tongue, my fingers and whatever other body parts we have to give and get pleasure.

That’s the vacation I need.


email to Al Sullivan

No comments:

Post a Comment