Early 3

It was early, too early to get up on his day off. He turned under the covers, stretched...and then felt the warm, ample body next to him. And remembered.

i

They were standing in the kitchen, as they did so often, drinking his special concoction of herbal tea and gin. They had music in the background, probably Mavis, definitely some gospel. Laughing, she'd turned to look at his window shelf, and he slid behind her to reach up into the cabinet for the bag of stevia.

He brushed against the skin on her arm as he reached up, and the shock was immediate. He felt dizzy, light-headed. She turned, feeling him hesitate. "You OK?" she asked, concern furrowing her brow.

And then he kissed her.

If he'd felt the slightest resistance, he would have stopped immediately, made amends. But the opposite was true. His mouth was tentative at first, fumbling. How long had it been since he kissed someone? Years. A decade? But if anything, after her first moment of surprise, he felt her settling in to him. Her small sigh and the shifting of her body to nestle closer to him, to open herself to the moment. Emboldened, he became more searching, putting his hands on the curve of her waist, sliding his leg just slightly in between hers for a little more grounding, increasing the pressure of his lips against hers.

They talked so much, always. She was a processer, and a thinker (a librarian, it came with the territory) and he was a poet. Their conversations ranged over so many things: faith, politics, home, identity, cities, gardening, food, life. He loved those moments when they shared themselves, continued in an unveiling they'd done for over 20 years.

But this was new, different. He'd only been with men, the last few people she'd dated were women. This was knowing her in a different, wholly unexpected way.

It was shocking. But it felt so fucking good.

ii

After an hour of this, unbridled, he could tell she was getting a little tired. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. She had a slightly dazed expression on her face—disbelief, flushed with desire, a little exhaustion. "Hey." He said softly. "Are you ok?"

"I just..." She closed her eyes, breathed in. With unspoken agreement, they pressed their foreheads together. "It's a lot to take in. "

"Yes." He paused, quietly hoping for a different answer. "Do you need to go?"

She opened her eyes quickly. "Do you need me to?" she asked, watching him carefully.

He knew that what he said in this moment meant so much. He had the home advantage here (as, unfairly, he knew, he always did) and that his decision right now might mean the difference between laughing this off as a mistake...and the start of something much more. He was afraid. He wanted to say yes. He took a breath.

"No." He smiled, touching her face. "I want you to stay."

iii

He'd never understood what "making love" meant. Even with El, when they had sex, as tender as it could be in moments, with him, it was fucking. But this—now--

This was making love.

There was so much intensity to it, but yet a gentleness, an unfolding, that made him blindingly hard with desire. He was used to the act, the focus on cock, on meeting a goal, on getting off. She took her time, wondering over things he'd never even noticed (the curve of his collarbone, his nipples, his hands) and made the hours slow and stretch.

Part of them knew this was going so fast (too fast?). But then part of them both wondered how they'd ever waited this long.

When she finally unbuckled his belt buckle, he thought he might faint from the pleasure of it all. She undid the button of his jeans and slid her hand beneath his waistband, cradling him.

"Wait." he whispered, slightly embarrassed. "I don't want to come too fast."

He'd been touching her all along, marveling in the feel of her soft skin, so smooth. But now he paused, making sure it was allowed, and slid his palm underneath her skirt, up her leg, stroking gently until he reached her panties. He cupped his hand over her, then slid a finger inside, feeling the heat and the wetness as she gasped.

So different. And yet how amazing to feel this parallel desire from her, this wanting. The analytical part of him, the observer, felt like he was taking notes, trying to remember everything so he could write about it later, put it in a form he could preserve to never forget.

But then the rest of him was here, with her, touching and moving and tasting and exploring. So much pleasure...

iv

When she took him in her mouth, he thought he would instantly erupt. Her mouth was so warm, her tongue covering the length of him with firm, languid strokes. He watched her suck him and felt the pressure building there, trying to hold himself back to make it last. She looked up at him, smiling. "Come for me," she said, giving him permission.

And so, he did.

V

They were tangled in each other, he nestled between her legs. Both spent. He'd spent the next two hours exploring her with his hands and mouth, fascinated, curious, intent on her pleasure. Even with his inexperience, he'd brought her over the edge so many times, and now they lay together—having that joy of the aftermath with someone you truly cared for, getting to recline in that safety and warmth.

But now. He felt the stirrings of him there—felt the heat of her, the slick wetness of her hardening him as they lay there together. She felt it too, as she moved her face from his shoulder to look in his eyes again.

They'd gone so far down this path already—but this was a true turning point. Were they sure?

He was trying, with what mental capacity he had left, to add to making a good decision.

But he had to admit that he wanted to know her like that. To have her be his first experience with a woman.

"Tell me what you want." he rasped, shifting his hips, feeling the almost unbearable pressure of her against him. "I'll do what you want. Anything."

And with one smooth motion, she reached down between them, opened her legs slightly, and slid him inside her.

"This. I want this."

He gasped with the shock and newness of the feeling of her around him. She moaned, opening wider, granting him access. He thrust deeper, needing more of her.

And together, they began to move.

Vi

And now. The day after. She lay in bed next to him, asleep. He laid there quietly, probing his emotions? Regret? Remorse?

No. Just gratitude.

He didn't know what this meant for their future, but he knew how he felt, and all of it felt amazing.

He only hoped she would feel the same.