Monday Morning Quickie - That Day Was Our First
The tiny cottage seemed even smaller with you in it. Your shoulders wide, arms soon wrapped around me.
I closed the door as you pulled off your boots, dropped them on the mat. That soon became their spot. You soon took over the sweeping out task. Twice a day, the doormat lifted and stone tiles cleared of dry sugar sand.
Beach life.
The first kiss was a tea and biscuit tinged peck, the second an invitation to take it further. We left the mugs outside as we allowed curiosity to take over. Modesty taking us away from prying eyes.
We didn’t make it upstairs.
You pulled me close and kissed me. I was the greedy one, you the romantic. I unzipped your jeans. You untied the fleece from around my waist. I knelt at your feet and took you in my mouth. You wrapped your fingers in my windswept hair as I tasted your saltiness.
You wanted to hold back, but I took you past that point of no return.
I’d never heard a man cry out that way before. You confessed it felt like I’d touched your soul.
Maybe I did.
You lifted me to my feet again. Kissed me. Tasted your sex on my lips and tongue. You stripped me, took long tender sighs as you got to know my body. Kissed freckled shoulders, sun kissed knees, surf tightened thighs.
We made love on the floor. Writhing on soft throws and cushions on the plaited rag rug. That rug still makes me smile.
I’m not sure you remember sitting with me in the front yard as I made another matching one for next to our bed.
You took me with a passion for intimacy neither of us had experienced until that day. We lay breathless and sweating, bodies reluctant to part.
I cried out when you took me to the edge, then we both crashed over it. Again and again. Rushes of sweat, tensed muscles, and adrenalin. A surfer’s paradise of terrifying connection to nature and each other.
Later, we showered and dressed in baggy chill out gear. Sat outside and drank wine. Watched as the sun broke through again, just in time to create a muddy dark sunset. It’s still the best one I ever remember. The deep red reflected now in the ruby red tied around my wrist.
That day was our first.
That was an extract from one of the stories in an older collection: