There's only just so much temptation a couple of divorced, celibate grownups can take.
I saw those long dark lashes, the crinkled skin around his eyes close tightly. I lightly kissed his nipple with my tongue and then circled it, kissing it deeply and he pulled me closer, and I moaned. I touched the small line of hair going from his navel down inside his pants, as my finger stayed discreetly above his waistband.
I looked up at his face and whispered, “I could do some real damage to you.” He grabbed me roughly by the arms and pulled me to his face.
“You have to stop,” he begged.
“Do you want me to stop, Gerry?” I whispered. He shook his head, leaned down and picked me up and I straddled him with my legs around his waist as he kissed my mouth. Slow but torrid, we felt each other with our tongues, blushing and determined, and I ran my hands over his bare back and shoulders, feeling his tense muscles move and flex. He was rock hard and so smooth, tense and intense.
I leaned into his ear and spoke. “Gerry, I want to see where that line of hair below your navel goes and kiss it, please and thank you,” I said, kissing his ear and his neck. He grabbed the back of my head and kissed my mouth hard, hugged me tighter and when he pulled his face away from our kiss, he buried his mouth in my neck, grasping my breast hard with one hand, his other hand holding me up under my bottom…and not in an innocent way. I heard him exhale my name, he sighed deeply, and he held me so long. I wanted him to take me to bed but I knew that if he hadn’t done that already, that he was resisting as much as he was able. I could feel him against my leg and I wanted to rip his clothes off while he did the same to me. Lord, help me what am I doing to him? To myself?
I pulled away and he let me stand on the floor and I looked at him for a long time and began to feel the remorse that I could see in his face.
“Mare, this is too dangerous.” I nodded, looking away, biting my lip and trying not to cry from frustration or just spontaneously combust.
Pulling ourselves together, I made lunch and we said very little as Gerry ate and I watched him. Finally, I wondered aloud, “You seem really enthusiastic about lunch.”
“Sammich and a pink, see-through bra. I’m going to be thinking about this day for a very, very long time,” he said with a smile. Oh, my gosh, I loved him so much.
“Gerry, how long has it been since you’ve had sex?” I asked, knowing this is a dangerous question. He hesitated, looking a little surprised and then spoke.
“A really long time. Probably three years.”
“But the last time you dated someone was two years ago, so you dated and didn’t sleep with her?” I asked. Gerry nodded. “And that was difficult, I take it?”
He shrugged. “Not as difficult as you might think. Nowhere near as difficult as this. How long has it been for you?” he asked, taking my hand.
“Thirteen years,” I said flatly and without hesitation. Gerry looked astonished. “And I want you to know that I’m struggling to keep it together, to keep from losing my grip. I’ve seen you now every day for 32 days and it’s been so hard. If I burst into tears or flames or something, you’ll know why.” I ran my hands up over my face and then I looked at the floor, trying not to look at Gerry. Don’t cry, don’t cry.
“Oh, Baby, I had no idea. So, the last time was when you were married?” he asked, and I nodded. “You were serious about those guard rails, weren’t you? I’m sorry for pushing you.”
I stopped him. “Don’t take all the blame, Gerry. I want you, too. I think that's been clear.” I knew that it's not going to be any easier from here on out. Quite the opposite.
Copyright Mare Loch 2021 Saltair: The Mid Life Celebrity Love Life of an Ex-Housewife © All rights reserved. Excerpt from Chapter 10 - "32 Days".
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