The Smell of Making Love

 

The Smell of Making Love

I could smell him on me all day today at work...which worked out to be a very nice distraction from the monotony of work and the smell of the guy who stands next to me at work who smells like rotting raw chicken and body odor. At work, they call me the bloodhound nose, cuz I can smell all the things nobody else can smell. But that's another story.

But having his smell on me that day was delicious, distracting, delightful and thankfully, nobody else could smell him on me, cuz they're not “primal” like me, nor a bloodhound (apparently)...LOL! And I was glad for the distraction, wishing I could tell “somebody” about it, but having no one to tell who would understand or care...I just went on about my day, smelling him in wafts as I moved about my workplace.

Sometimes when you fuck somebody and you know it's just fucking...yeah that happens. But sometimes you think it's just fucking and it turns out to be making love...well, that's what this was. This smell that lingered on me all day...it was the smell of love.

I'd known him for years and it had never come to this before. We both knew that we wanted to do it, in the years and evenings leading up to it, but both had hesitations...that we discussed at length—this part comes later.

Now, for back story...we've been snuggling together for years on the couch and watching tv, or listening to music or just talking. He's actually the thing/person that helped me get through one of the worst things that ever happened to me (rape. I'm talking about full on rape...when I couldn't trust any male person for a very long while, but still could trust him...and just like he always was, he was there for me after that happened to me, and was the one MALE I knew wouldn't take advantage of the situation at all, and could just let me trust a male again, by showing me, with his actions, though gentle, at my pace, cuddles, that didn't lead to anything more). But that's, of course, another story too...and almost makes this story harder to tell at all, cuz I have all the fear of losing him, of telling the story poorly, of how much it may hurt my heart, if I share this story with him. But it needs to be said, cuz I had reminded him of this fact recently, and he once again felt bad for me, but still just gave me that all-encompassing hug that he's capable of, that makes everything feel right as rain.

Further, but more recent, back story: the night before we went further than we probably should have and I woke up the next day with his smell all over me, we had snuggled on the couch a lot. And on that night, we had been very close to “sealing the deal”, maybe we talked about it directly, maybe it was just implied by our subtle conversations about it, but we were both buzzy-headed and I didn't want to make the wrong choice. I'm poly, he's not. In fact, in my recollection, he's never been even close to being poly—always tending to prefer serious relationships, while he watched me go through person after person without a care for any of them. But, for me, being finally “poly” felt like a gods-send, finally having a label to put on what I was already doing was like a blessing from the millennial/gen Z gods, cuz finally I could be what I always was and now, there's a “societally appropriate” word for it.

So, trying to let my-so-called “level” (buzzy) head prevail, I stopped it once again. But he wanted to kiss me, I could tell cuz he kept looking me in the eyes and moving his face close to my face...and also kissing me on the head while we were snuggling together. But, kissing was something we had never done before. However, I REALLY WANTED to kiss him too that night...but I tried to be level-headed even through the potential bad judgment of alcohol, so I kept saying that I didn't care about if we took it further than cuddling cuz I was poly, but was worried about his relationship since he wasn't. So we called it a night. And both went to separate beds. But then I laid down, and realized something.....

So I got out of bed, snuck into his room, not really sneaking, if we're being honest, if he's staying in the extra room in my house and knows he didn't lock the door, and is ex-military like me, so he probably hears every sound that happens around a house during the quiet hours, but whatever. I “snuck”. And I climbed on top of him...his naked hairy chest exposed to me...(cuz apparently all guys sleep shirtless or whatever...tee hee).

I leaned over to kiss him, just a breath away.

“I just wanna see what it's like before I talk myself outta it in the morning”, I said.

And I then I leaned in to kiss him. And kept kissing him...a lot! I could feel his naked chest against my shirt, his hot breath coursing through me. He tried to pull me in further...wanting it to be more...but I stopped it at kissing, went to bed with the memory of that kiss, and the knowing that he wanted more, but still respected me enough to not try to convince me otherwise. Has there ever in the history of stories been anything as 100% sexy as that kind of respect? Sooo...yeah.... It was hard to sleep. I kept having to talk myself out of going back in there, believing that we could “think” about it more clearly in the morning...but then morning came...and there were other complications that prevented anything from happening in the morning, even talking about it.

Now, on the previous few nights he'd been over to visit, we had talked and snuggled and generally been the friends “only” that we had previously been in our “past” lives, but on those nights, he kept finding my “spots” like the back of my head caressed gently, or the curve of my hips when he'd hug me tightly to say goodbye, or the gentle kisses he kept placing on the side of my face and near, but not directly ON, my ears. And even through all that, my brain kept saying, “NO, don't do this!!!” and my heart kept saying, “what is the real reason NOT to do this?” And every night prior, I had talked myself out of it...talked myself out of the thing I REALLY WANTED to do, cuz my brain almost always wins in these situations. Except that darn night before last night, when I had sneaked into his room to kiss him, cuz I knew I'd talk myself out of that by morning, and I was tired of wondering what it would feel like.

So on that “darn” night before last, my brain finally got on board a little, probably inspired by drinking, but then, as I was laying in bed, my brain said “...when has alcohol ever STOPPED me from doing what I want to do? um... basically never.” So after we had both “gone” to bed, I got up, opened his door (in my house, mind you) and just climbed on top of him in the bed, and started kissing him...light kissing, the kind that could not let it go too far...knowing that I could stop myself, cuz I had already talked myself out of going further than that, so I knew I could hold that boundary. But I'm pretty bad at holding boundaries to be honest. And, on that night, when he'd tried to pull me in further, keep me there longer, I got up and went back to bed, now knowing exactly what it was like to kiss him...and also knowing that kissing him hadn't helped talk me out of anything further at all. In fact, it basically did the opposite.

Back story over.

He came back the next night though—this is the night I ended up smelling like him and taking it with me to work today—and we had once again begun snuggling on the couch, but I went outside for a cigarette, and of course it was raining, it started light but before we could get to the “safety” of the carport, it had started dumping buckets, so we were soaked to the skin. And side note, I say of course it was raining, because the rain almost always follows any magical encounter of mine...and this night, though I didn't (quite) know it at the time, was most definitely a night for magic to happen.

Then he starting asking about what we had done the prior night (the kissing...you know the thing we'd literally NEVER done before in 18 years or so of being friends).

“So what other things did you talk yourself out of?” he asked

“I'm not so sure I talked myself out of any of them,” I replied. “I just didn't want my decisions to be based on alcohol.”

“But I'm still poly, and I'm not sure you are...” I continued.

“Well, we've talked about it...”

“And you said you and your wife never really made a decision about it”

And then, he kissed ME! In the rain, both of us fully clothed and drenched with rain, cuz the rain wasn't the light drizzly rain of those beautiful Summer nights, it was the super intense but fleetingly quick bursts of rain of early Spring in the South.

He kissed me cuz he wanted to, cuz he couldn't stop himself from trying again to capture the kiss from the previous night. And I didn't stop him. Kissing isn't really cheating for “normies” right? *I lied to myself * Cuz it's certainly not cheating for me.

“What would your wife think of this?” I asked after I had stopped us kissing, and we were walking back into the house.

“Well she knows I came to visit you?” He said with a slight question in his tone.

“Well, but I'm poly, adding a new person doesn't affect my other relationships, what will it do to yours?”

“Do you think I'll just abandon everything after this?” he asked, knowing we both meant 'if this leads to sex'.

“No,” I said, “but SHE might if she learns about it”.

“Why would she do that?”

“Does she know that I'm the woman you were in love with before you married her?”

The interior lights reflecting off his wet skin, driving me half-wild...*I want to devour him* I thought...but kept my distance.

“She knows all about you. You've met her, she knows who you are, and what we were before.”

*Yes, I've met her, I know she's a good woman who just wanted to recapture what she had had with him in their prior tries at a relationship, and who wanted what HE wanted in those days...a marriage. A solid foundation...stability * I thought to myself. *I mean, who doesn't want those things really? I certainly wanted them for a long time too, but I was looking in all the wrong places. *

But what I said was....

“DOES SHE KNOW I'M THE WOMAN YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH BEFORE YOU MARRIED HER? Like, for real, you told her, directly, that you were in love with me back in those days?” I asked again, quite loudly.

Then I see a look in his eyes that says so much, and I realize something....so I asked, far more gently... “Do YOU know I was the woman you were in love with before you married her?”

“I'm starting to realize that,” he said while staring into my eyes, right through to my soul.

*Humm...he really didn't know it then? * I thought to myself. *Does he know that he was the person I was kinda in love with too back in those days? * I wondered.

We kiss some more after that, and he runs his hand down the back of my head through my hair, sending another shiver through my whole body. He pulls me closer.

“I've already told you how I feel about it,” he said...

Previously he had told me that he and his wife had had some conversations about possibly being with others...but it wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement of his/their ability to be poly. And I hesitated, again. But his wet skin was driving me wild...no more half about it.

Then, we moved closer to the couch, and had stopped kissing, cuz I had reached a point where I wouldn't be able to stop if we continued kissing THAT way...the couch, where we had been sitting previously and cuddling and talking and pushing the boundaries of good behavior, pushing the boundaries of friends vs lovers... that damn couch!

...and then he said, “I'm just tired of us always finding reasons why 'it's not tonight'

a long pause ensued

...we always find some reason why not to.”

And he was right...there were a whole lotta “almosts” in our past. A whole lot of good, legitimate reasons why we didn't or shouldn't...and a whole lot of times when there weren't really any great reasons why not to, but it just didn't happen anyhow. Does that mean it wasn't supposed to have ever happened? Does that mean that it's just never good timing or does it mean that the universe was telling us “this isn't for you”, or maybe it was telling us something else? Maybe the universe kept us apart in those days for other reasons...reasons like: I wouldn't have my child if it had been “us” in those days, he wouldn't have his children if it had been “us” then. But now???? Now what? What is MY (just my own) good reason NOW to not do this? He probably has quite a few, but my only “reason” not to now is that I don't want to hurt him, damage his life. But it won't damage my life.......right?

My heart knew otherwise, but I didn't listen to that brat! She's wrong so often about things...and this could just be another thing she's wrong about.

Yeah, I didn't really believe that lie either.........even then.

So instead of listening to my 'brat' of a heart, I reached out and pulled him into me...kissing him with far more passion than any of our prior kisses. Soul mingling kiss...that's what that was...I didn't say anything. Or maybe I did...i don't know...maybe I said, “yeah, you're right” or some equally boring thing before I pulled him in for the kiss that told him that tonight was going to be THE night...finally!

Were we always in love? And just denying it?

Was he denying it?

Yes.

Was I denying it? Maybe...

probably?...

ok, fine, yes...I was denying it too, but...in my defense, I was denying it sooo hard I never knew till that night. That's some hard core denial right there, whereas I believe HE DID IN FACT KNOW then, but just pushed it away because there was always “some reason for us not to” and he clearly didn't want to lose me in his life. He denied or lied to himself because my friendship was valuable to him, him having my respect and trust was valuable to him...and he had those things in those days, he just didn't have more with me.

But that night...the night I finally gave in...he was holding me like he had always done, and touching me like he'd always done...but it didn't feel that “old” way that night. That night especially...after the prior night of sneaking into his room to kiss him...it. FELT. VERY. DIFFERENT.

On this occasion...we started with just talking and snuggling and him trying to run his hands all over me, and sometimes blaming me for them...

“You put my hands on your breasts again,” he had said...when I had snuggled into him further, while we were just listening to music and talking and snuggling, and his hands happened to get moved.

“Well, actually I didn't mean to do that, but I see that they are there...”

“Welllll.......do you want me to move them?” he asked, with that mischievous tone in his voice.

“Have I moved them?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Ok, well, there's AN answer.”

“But you know that no answer is sometimes also an answer,” he responded.

“Yes, indeed I do know that...I say it to people often, in fact,” I smugly replied.

But that had happened earlier that night...before the rain, before the wet kissing...before he had said the thing that had tipped me over the edge...

So we had just come back in from outside, both soaked to the skin from the Spring rain, and he was caressing me like he had on prior nights, but that night, wet from the Spring rain, both of us panting in desperation for each other almost, I was feeling things I'd not felt in a very, very long time, possibly had never felt...him rubbing his strong hands over my shoulders, neck, down my spine, making me tingle with every single touch.. His hot breath gently coursing over my neck and ears, making me move in a way that any person, idiot or not (cuz he kept trying to tell me how clueless he was when people were flirting with him in our past) would know is my sexual arousal way, and moan slightly in a way I've not felt in so long it feels like it never has happened...in that moment, we both knew there was nothing stopping this tonight.

I kept hearing his words replay in my head (those words that tipped the scales, finally).... “I'm tired of it always being 'not tonight'” and after hearing them repeat endlessly in a loop in my brain, I knew I just couldn't overcome my brain anymore.

So...I let him in. Maybe it wasn't my best decision ever, but I did.

But I did it because, my brain and my heart both had literally no other choice...they were both tired of saying “no” too.

So I kissed him again, and he kissed me back with a passion I'd been longing for for so long...the soul melding kissing that can only be done in this situation, where our passions had been driving us to this moment for so long that neither of us could remember just HOW long. And he started rubbing me again...his wet hands moving over my wet skin, down my arms, around to my lower back, pulling me in closer to him.

“Are you sure?” he asked as he pulled away from our embrace and kiss.

I pulled him back into me, and kissed him some more.

Nothing was stopping this train tonight I knew. My brain already gave in, and that's the brat that had stopped us so many times in the past. Even though my heart is quite the brat too! LOL!

As if right on cue, the background music starts playing Usher's “Nice and Slow”...a perfect interlude for where this was going because we both did want to savor this moment, to take it nice and slow and remember it forever. The beat and the harmony melding with our kissing and rubbing of each other...I may remember that song forever...and it will forever be linked with this moment.

I keep kissing him and begin to pull him back towards the couch, as he runs his hands along my sides down to my waist. Then he puts his hands under my shirt, and gently wiggles the soaking wet thing off over my head. He drops it onto the floor and moves his hands down to my waist again and is holding me tight, pulling me into him. My breasts smash against his wet shirt and he lets out a slight moan of pleasure.

*Is this really what I want or what is best? * I wonder to myself for about the 300^th time as he lays me down on the couch.

Then he sits on the couch near me and begins rubbing his hands up from my belly to my breasts where he lingered for awhile. I pull him closer to me for more kisses, then he kisses his way down over my breasts lingering awhile at my nipples and then I reach for him, rubbing my hands over his wet shirt...then I moved my hands to his waist and began taking off his shirt. He laid down on top of me after I took his shirt off, our wet chests pressing together and we began kissing again.

Little moans escaping from both our lips, we laid like that awhile, feeling the pressure of time and life, but not wanting the moment to end either...kissing so intensely it felt like the first time I'd ever been kissed. Then he began kissing down my chest again, lingering on my belly, wanting to do so much more, I could almost see it in his eyes...that thing he wanted to do next, but he hesitated, still not believing that we had gotten this far.

He reached to start removing my pants.

“I'm on my period,” I said to him “probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

Because if the thought he had had, that I could “almost” see in the moment before had happened, I wanted him to be fully aware of what was going on down there...

“Ok, do we need to get a towel or something?”

He doesn't care! Ok. Great. So then...let's see where he takes it.

“No, it's not that bad today, just wanted you to know before it goes any further.”

Undeterred, he removes my pants and adds them to the wet pile of clothes next to the couch.

“See? Granny panties,” I say to him, “now you really know I didn't plan this...cuz if you get laid when a girl is wearing these you know she REALLY DIDN'T think sex was on the table.”

We both laughed.

Then he starts to remove my panties, and I help him, feeling an urge to get to whatever's coming next.

“Are you sure we don't need a towel? I wouldn't want to ruin your couch.”

“No, we're good,” I said, while helping him remove his pants.

His erect cock now exposed, a beacon pulling me further in, he laid back on top of me, the full weight of his naked glistening body pressing against me. Still damp from the rain, he begins kissing me again, the smell of his skin mingling with the smell of rain on him was intoxicating to my brain.

We giggle a bit as he tries to get his cock inside me, eventually, I reach down and grab onto his cock and guide it in.

He looks into my eyes then and I wonder what exactly he's thinking...

Then he kisses me passionately and our bodies begin to find a rhythm.

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper into me, feeling as though I could explode at any second. My back arching, moans of delight escaping from me, and our rhythm gets faster, more intense, more desperate for each other.

My mouth finding his ears and neck, biting him just a little as I run my hands up and down his back. He begins exploring my neck and shoulders with his tongue, but the couch is small and the position was awkward...and his cock slipped out of me.

“I can't get a good angle,” he said then.

“Here,” I said as I got up from the couch and pulled him up off of it and pushed him down onto it on his back. Then I climbed on top of him. His breath caught in his throat and he smiled at me.

I reach down and grab onto his cock, moving my hand up and down, feeling his cock grow in my hand, knowing I really want to put it in my mouth, but I don't, instead I just guide him back inside me. *Maybe I can do that later * I thought... My legs now draped over the sides of his hips, my fingers running through his hair, I gaze into his beautiful blue eyes.

*Did I ever know his eyes were this blue? * I thought to myself.

His lips lock onto my nipple and all thought washed away...just a sea of pleasure then. The rhythm intensified between our bodies and it's tough to recall all that happened after that, except for moans of pleasure from me and him...our breath mingling as we alternate between kissing and staring into each other's eyes.

As I reached climax, his body had melded with mine in a way I'd never known before, our energies mixing together in a gorgeous tableau before my eyes. Then I started riding him faster, harder, willing him to come too.

And then, like a German train (just on time), he said, “I think I'm really close...”

“Oh yeah! Come for me...” I whisper-purred into his ear.

Then I feel his surge inside me so intensely that it brought me near to climax again, and he finishes his orgasm with each moan from me pulling him further into my energy.

I fall back onto him, our chests pressed together, and begin licking the sweat off his neck and ear, needing to remember the taste of him, the smell of him. We laid there still plugged into one another for a long time, neither wanting to end the connection, our sweat mingling together on our naked bodies, my soaking wet hair falling onto his chest and face.

My thoughts were swirling around the experience and I realized that I had had to actively stop myself from telling him that I loved him multiple times during our encounter...and I'm not a person who says that very often, and certainly am not one of those people who always feels the need to say it during intercourse. But there it was, I was in love with him, and couldn't tell him because he was leaving the next day to go back home to his wife and children. *Damn was this gonna break my heart in a way I never thought possible...but I suppose that's tomorrow's problem, * I thought to myself.

So instead I just looked deeply into his bright blue eyes again and tried to savor the moment I had with him, hoping to remember every detail about one of the only times I ever “made love” instead of just “had sex”. Soaking in his smell, and the taste of his skin, and trying desperately to hold onto the look in his eyes when we had both climaxed and were just laying on top of one another.