She caught me by surprise
At least, I like to think it that way. I knew from the way she looked at me, a few milliseconds longer than she used to. She hugged me and pressed her whole body into mine. She kissed me on the lips.
Most of these things are pretty normal for island life. Maui’s warm safe environment translates into the people's interactions. But something was different. I’ve always had good conversations with this woman. But she was married. And she was a woman.
I’ve always dated girls. Some younger some older. They were all professional. Professional medics, professional translators, professional strippers | they were professionals, but they were girls. There was always a clinginess | a pleading from inside. School problems, daddy problems, money problems, etc. But this one was different. Not without problems, as we all have, but with a stillness. But this one could meet me without pulling or pushing. She was so still she could meet my soul without disturbing anything. My defenses let up and my walls came down. She was able to see me. My shadows. My light. And I let her.
The shift in relationship happened over text. She’d told me her marriage was dissolving. She started asking me questions, assuming I wouldn’t know they were from the New York Times most emailed article: ‘The 36 Questions That Lead to Love.’ I was too smart for that. And I was too smart to not tell the truth. When she asked me what I wanted, I told her, her.
She flew to Portland, where I live. We talked. She sat on my lap. She looked into my eyes. I caressed her breast. We shared a breath, slowly warming up to a long deep kiss. We touched our skin. We blessed each other. We set intentions for our highest and truest purpose to express itself in whatever relationship that was about to unfold. We decided not to have intercourse that night. I fucked her in the morning.
I fucked her hard. I fucked her sweetly. I stared into her eyes and fucked her soul. I didn’t push. I gently rammed, into the softness that she created for me. We explored. Our bodies rolled. And swayed. And pulsated with each others love. More softness opened. Decades of collective yoga practice prepared us for the interaction happening between the sheets. Not just asana, but pranayama. Her gaze became my driste. Our passion became my dhyana. Our orgasm a glimpse into samadhi.
Her presence energized me the entire time we were together. Together we laughed, we played, we discussed, we explored and made love. I think there was a few seconds of an argument, but I forget what it was about. We would find boundaries, and demolish them. Powerful convulsions with my finger inside her would blast her eyes open, intensely so, and she would tell me when to stop, and when to go.
I don’t know what happened between us honestly, other than 5 days of erotic open honest bliss. I’m completely humbled by the synchronicities, the rawness, and the innocence of the interaction. I’ve always carefully negotiated my relationships in the past, being careful to strategically leave safety anchors to the shore of bachelorhood. For the first time, I feel ready to cut those lines, and see where the sea takes me.
