I rolled off of her body thinking I wonder if people really go to the bathroom in their dreams.
Lynn sat up, leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips, got up and walked into the bathroom. I watched the soft movement of her feminine body gliding through the moon shadows and disappear into the darkness. Then I heard the tinkling splashing sound of her urinating in the toilet bowl. This caused warmth to flow over me.
Maybe it was the primal feeling of having once being inside my mother, surrounded by the warmth of her amniotic sac. I sensed the warmth of her fluids about me. But the sound Lynn’s peeing turned me on, and I began stroking myself. As always, I loved the feel of my penis in my hand. I felt the long protruding passageway on the bottom and the muscular ridges along the shaft, remembering the many times I have felt this wonderful organ grow through the years, from a soft wee thing to the substantial part of my body that it had become.
In my reverie I was pleasantly shocked when Lynn wrapped her warm fingers around my erection and touched my oozing slit with the tip of her tongue. She squeezed my shaft as she lapped and sucked, then moved up to my face, glossed my lips with my precum, and kissed me tenderly, sliding her lips across mine with the slippery coating.
She lay down beside me and our eyes locked, gazing into the depths of each other’s being, lying facing each other on the pillow—the Yin and Yang—the male and the female. I have always been fascinated by what “female” means, and I could never understand men who are not totally captivated by the total concept of woman.
As my eyes left Lynn’s gaze they began to take in the soft lines of her face: her gentle lips, her delicate ears, her expressive eyes. I wondered what her thoughts were of me. Did she wonder what made men go wild in the presence of a woman, and at other times made them controlling or difficult? Did she sense that I was here as a pilgrim who made the arduous journey to this sexual Mecca, to worship a female goddess?
Just as I thought this, she reached out with the backs of her fingernails and stroked my cheek. Her touch was gentle; so sensuous. I felt like every hair on my body stood on end. I needed to respond to let her know that I was enjoying her, so I took her fingers in mine, interlaced them and raised our arms together. As our arms stretched the muscles of our forearms touched; I loved the warmth and softness. Our elbows straightened and came together, cushioned by our upper arm muscles. Again we were lost in the dark pupils of the other’s eyes, searching, lavishing our sensations of allness.
Without prompting, our fingers unlaced and straightened, palms came together. The hollows of our hands straightened and, as if by magic, we felt the whorls of our palm prints.
But magic is an illusion, and the sensation of our touching was very real. I felt the beat of my heart in my ear drums, The beat I felt in my hands and fingertips however, was rising from a different drum. So sensitive was the touch that I felt Lynn’s pulse. Loving warmth spread throughout my body and a drop of moisture formed in the corners of my eyes.
No, this wasn’t magic, this was incredibly real. Lynn’s eyes glistened in the moonlight as well. Somehow we are together tonight as a reward.
The gods of love must have seen the burning passion in our hearts, the need to please someone so special, and to be pleased in return. They had granted our desire and it seemed that tonight we would be rewarded indeed, an answer to our years of curiosity. Like children on the edge of a new adventure, our hearts skipped in wondrous syncopation.
