The swimmer


It’s true I liked that you liked my periwinkle laces. I wear them in those shoes I got in Cali last year. I just want to gather us up and get out of here. Just go.

The first night, that first smoke we shared. Your eyes were so fucking big. I shouldn’t say too much, you brought out the beer, then the scotch. I don’t remember the sleeping arrangement. I know we had to work the next day. And we did.

I didn’t see you coming. I didn’t know I would rise like a thousand oaks and fall as quickly as snow does in it’s fast swirling manner, fighting the under current of wind. Fucking fantastic. The second night was incredibly intense. All of me for all of you. I couldn’t stop. Our bodies knew something we didn’t know. I didn’t know I was that attracted to you, that connected to you. Fucking fantastic.

Sex hasn’t been anything close to this for me ever. Sleeping with you fitting inside my curve. Your hands on my bend…..

The third day we came back to your place and immediately went back to the same pace, the same drive. I’m reluctant to say it here because we were both there. We drenched ourselves over and over again. I lay on that carpet and let you run over me over and over again. You said we need to take that with us..we destroyed it..we charged it with so much sexual energy, the way you cum, we destroyed it . That night after the children slept we met again. I searched for the lock to your being and found it on the other side of your lips. When we found ourselves there on the outstretched hand of passion and commitment, we slowed our pace. I truly haven’t left your side ever since.

We have a patch of grass that we lie in some days. We have the patio chairs that we stained the same way. The couch is marked and the overstuffed chair. None of it belongs to us but in some strange way will always be ours.


Your bed is so safe where we sleep sideways informally, together.. Your womb that you begged me to puncture. All of it. I want all of it. The words you use and the inside of your lips that you chew. Your tells and your fingernails pricking my chest when you decide to bless me with a ride. We ride deep and your nails remind me that I am tallest when hand in hand with you.

The sex and the hunger have turned into something insanely wonderful. The dinners we cook, the meals out with the children. The marathon Marco Polo watching and the forced orgasm sessions that come as naturally as hitting snooze on the alarm clock. You have a crazy sexy mind. You will say I’m fucking it… but you have that ass on you. I’m well aware of how fucking gorgeous your are. I’m also aware of the everything gorgeous in you, that I’m fucking as well.

Not a pretend, get to know you gorgeous, not a your heart is so good gorgeous although those both apply. The words you use. The clear way you communicate. The music, the art and the food. The feet and the thighs. The eyes and fingers.. that mouth…

Not ready to talk about that mouth..not yet. Fuck…

It’s not just sex. It’s laundry and homework. It’s naps and pool tables. It’s organic vegetarian and meat binges that thicken my chest and give our post bath time meetings longevity like I’ve​ never known. It’s the breathing and the shower, yeah the one I watched you take. The canvas and the paints. Your charcoals and pastels, your porn voice and my guitar.

I know this is family. I’ve been attacked by toddlers a few times now. I’ve been initiated​ by their gauntlet of karate chops and laughter. Such good medicine for my soul. You sexy creative. You gorgeous noise bringer.

This is happening.

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