Saturday Afternoon

We were over at a friend's house, leaning against the stone wall that separated us from a 300 foot drop into the ocean. The sun was shining and the sky was clear of any clouds. If we'd been further inland the temperature would have been in the 80's, but as it was, the ocean breeze was brisk enough to make me shiver once in a while. He put an arm around me and I nuzzled his neck. His body warmth and the naturally spicy scent of him immediately enthralled me.

"When we get home..." I started.

"Yes?"

"When we get home I want to tie you to my bed and ride you."

He made an interesting noise and pressed himself into me. I could feel his hardness against my belly. It was a tease and a promise.

A couple of hours later we headed home. I reached into the glove box for a toy and then reclined my seat. He didn't complain when I plugged the vibrator into the outlet, but he did shoot me an exasperated look that said can't you wait? My answer was to put my right foot on the dashboard and slide my left hand under my skirt. Waay up under my skirt.

Every guy fantasizes about having a girl who is always ready for sex, he told me once. Until he gets one and realizes what a nightmare keeping her satisfied can be. I chose not to take offense to this wry self-honesty on his part. I've found that my sex drive intimidates most of the men I date.

The drive home from Pacifica took seven or eight minutes. Enough time for me to have an orgasm and perfume the two-seater with the scent of pussy. When we pulled into the garage I leaned over and kissed him, teasing his mouth with my tongue. When he reached for me I opened the car door and dashed up the stairs.

He chased after me and caught me just inside the door. He pressed me up against the wall with his body and ground his cock against my mound, making me gasp when the seam on his jeans rolled over my clit.

I would have dropped to my knees right there if it wasn't for the fact that my mind was fixated on tying him to my bed. I wanted him that way. And so I grabbed his hand and pushed past him toward my bedroom, toward the scarf-draped hat stand that beckoned with promises of silken ties.

Move accomplished

So here I am, sitting amidst a sea of boxes, most of them books. I am exhausted. My back and knees ask me why I've chosen to live in a townhouse where the bedroom is on the third level. There is no such thing as ranch-style houses in San Francisco, I tell them. It does not stop their complaining. Today my body feels every one of its 40 years. But for all that, my spirits are good. I left California 22 years ago and swore that I would not come back to live, yet here I am. Here I am. My friends and family here are thrilled. I spent the night snuggled up to my lover, and will spend the next several there, seeing as it will probably be a few more days before I get my bed set up. Mmmm. Thoughts of my bed have my back and knees telling me that they will stop complaining as soon as they get a good night's sleep on my tempurpedic mattress.

It will take some time to settle in, to find the rhythm of my life, and from there, to begin creating again. I look forward to writing and recording. I will try to put this down-time to good use as far as taking care of myself and putting out some more of my work goes.