Honoring what lies between us

Sprawled in his bed, spent, the burgundy sheets pulled up over one thigh, draping my hips. The other leg thrown wide, toes flexing occasionally as orgasmic aftershocks jolt me. I feel a bit like a boat bumping against its moorings. Him sitting up against the headboard, drinking water, the blond hair on his chest glistening dark gold with sweat. My head resting on his thigh, inhaling deeply of the scent of 'us' that rises from his groin. Such an amazing scent. I smile, basking in that scent. Start to doze off and start awake. It is late. I move to slide away. Its a half-hour drive home. Large hands cup my breasts, long-fingered and deft, o so deft as he tweaks one of my nipples. "Stay", he says, softly. No intonation, nothing for me to object to. I shift onto my side, my body forming an 'L', toes brushing the headboard. I look up into his face, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Mmmm.... but I want to sleep in my own bed." He sighs. Leans forward. Rests his forearms on his knees. "Would it help if I got a tempurpedic?" he asks, not for the first time. "I like your bed," I tell him. Its very comfortable. A luxury pillow-top, like the ones at my favorite hotel chain. I reach out, stroke his calf, trail my fingers along the crease between it and his forearm. He takes my hand, kisses it. His nostrils flare a little and I know he can smell my juices, mild as the scent is. He is remarkably attuned to my pheromones. "You don't want to stay with me because you are afraid." He looks into my eyes, his expression expectant. "Absolutely," I agree. This surprises him, because I usually stubbornly refuse to admit fear. "You are so afraid of committment," he ventures. I think on that for a moment. In the past, I've not been afraid of commitment. In my previous relationships I readily admitted my feelings and took that dive. But right now... "I'm not afraid of commitment. I just don't want a serious relationship right now, for good reasons. Yes, some of it is fear. I have this aversion to depending on people that I still need to work on. I'm afraid I've not done enough work to break past habits. I'm afraid I'll make the same old mistakes again." I push myself up, leaning on one palm so we are eye-level. My other hand slips up his shoulder, squeezes. Tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck. I hold his gaze with mine. "And part of it is that I'm really enjoying being single and seeing lots of people and having fun. And staying here, with you, implies a commitment that could later be used as a wedge between me and the life I so enjoy leading." My heart fills with love for him. I project it outward even as I lean forward to kiss him, brushing my lips against his. "Stay anyway," he whispers, "No commitment implied. I miss the feel of you snuggled up against me.". A hard kiss. His fingers cup my head, slipping through my hair, still damp from exertion. He breaks the kiss. Leans his forehead against mine. "Besides... I love what you do with the morning wood." Ah! Devious man! I grin and relent. I stay over so rarely... We settle into the rumpled bed, my head pillowed on his arm. His body spoons against mine, chest pressing into my back. His slightly tumescent cock nestles just under my ass, at the top of my thighs. I wiggle my bottom against it in a silent promise. Just wait 'til morning, I think. "I want to see how you blog this," he says, giving his consent. Smiling, I press my lips to his bicep and then dive into sleep. [click here for audio]