I love the weekend for many reasons, but foremost is morning lovemaking. We are both busy with work all week so this is not a weekday thing unless we wake up early. Even then it is not conducive to either inhibition or romance to be having sex with one eye on the clock. Even for a hit-and-run quickie. David and I both like staying in bed and recovering slowly rather than rushing to shower, dress and run to the office. I think that we look like something out of a situation comedy on television when we do that. He has a goofy expression on his face that says he just had sex. I probably do too. Not appropriate for being taken seriously at work, but it happens nonetheless.

Friday night is the time that the week gets put away. Even if we are running on empty, we know that we have to keep going until then. We usually go out for dinner and drink a little more wine than we would on a school night. We come home, shower and go to bed giving in to the fatigue of the week and the impact of the wine, falling into our bed. We make love in a bit of a fog, and remain tangled together as we sleep.

Saturday morning comes quietly, without any alarm waking us. The southern exposure of the bedroom allows the bright sun to stream in. I am awakened another way, one that brings me to consciousness slowly. David is usually up before I am but he lets me sleep a little longer, but just a little. He will uncover me and kiss my body softly. I can feel the kisses as I rouse, but do not give in to being awake except in increments, unwilling to yield to the day. My eyes are still closed as I feel the warmth of him close to me and kisses that feel like gossamer butterfly wings touching me. Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams, loosens his hold on me as I become more aware of David’s embrace. I love this state between sleep and wakefulness, unsure if the feelings are real or a vivid dream. The fervent desire is to surrender to it and let it take you, with the knowledge that this will be a journey to delight.

The track of his kisses moves from my neck and shoulders, always erogenous, to my breasts. He pays special attention to my nipples, small pink pearls in his lips. He moves lower down my torso and abdomen kissing each freckle to the red blonde silk that marks my sex. He parts my legs and kisses the soft inner skin of my thighs, tantalizing me with what is to come. I open my eyes and look down at his beautiful face. His eyes are dancing as he watches me react to his kisses and his touch and he is grinning. For both of us the anticipation and teasing are as important as the act.

His fingers play gently between my lips, feeling them moisten as I react. David then replaces his fingers with his tongue, licking, probing, lapping at me and finding my bud. I always think that he has learned exactly how to best arouse me when he does this and respond with soft sighs. His hands are busy caressing my breasts as he continues. My breath is quickening as his tongue dives deeper and deeper into me and then returns to my clitoris. I am slick and more sensitive by the second as I feel the stubble of his beard scratching me. It is somehow even more exciting because of this combination of rough and tender.

My hands are in David’s hair, my knees raised as he pushes me further towards the abyss. I raise my hips a little as if to meet his mouth. My thighs are now clasping his head. I don’t want this to stop. I can feel the first wave of orgasm hit me. David uses his mouth and tongue as well as his fingers to stimulate and devour me. He plays me like an instrument taking me to the precipice and back again. The waves increase in ferocity until finally he pushes me over the edge and I am lost, falling into a sea of desire and pleasure. I writhe and gasp for air, as though I were submerged in a roiling tide of utter bliss. He knows that he has reached me when he hears the whispered “ohhh” and finds his mouth flooded with the essence of me.

David is nothing if not a generous lover, allowing me the first of the orgasms that we will share. He tells me that this is not unselfish. It turns him on to see me respond to him and feel the power that he has over me. It becomes more and more difficult for him to resist plunging his cock into me as he grows and hardens while feasting on me. It makes me want to feel him inside me with desire so intense that it borders on desperation.

We will have that now. He has made me come and his need to follow is ever more urgent. I love that first moment of penetration, the steady progress of his engorged penis as it reaches closer to my core. I can feel myself opening to him, welcoming him again as our bodies move in rhythm together. I am holding him inside me, pulling him in more. This is the miracle we share, that this is comforting and intensely exciting simultaneously. That is a contradiction that I hope is never resolved. I will feel him reach the heights with me and then hold me as we fall, tight in his arms, but there is nothing more languidly erotic than this weekend breakfast.