In Sickness and In Health Vows

Bearing in mind the discomfort I have been in from my kidney infection as a result of some over-enthusiastic sexual relations, the pictures of what sex looks like helped to explain quite a lot, especially about the relationship between the clitoris, the gspot, and the urethra.

But watching that interaction, the way that penis slides purposefully into its groove, I realised how much I missed that sensation. The feeling of having my man inside me, completing me.

I could come to terms with my fear of penetration because I wanted him more than I feared the pain. He has taken no ‘in sickness and in health’ vows but he has been so patient in nursing me back to health. Giving me space when I needed it and tending to me when I required tlc.

The concern on his face when he commented on how much better I look made me understand just how ill I had been. He has seen me at my worst and still wants to be with me. And, more than that, throughout the teething problems of my fledgeling business, he has been there – supporting and helping and just being my partner.

We have been together almost continually over the last six weeks and we knew that it was always going to be make or break. Really testing whether what we have can survive in the real world and the thought of going back to the reality of our separation next week fills me with dread. The thought of not having him in the same room. His absence and the empty space beside me. I just don’t want to think about it. And neither does he.

We have established a connection that is so much a part of both of us and the ability to verbalise it to each other without embarrassment or fear of rejection is something that I have never experienced before. Sure, it’s not all roses, there are moments of grumpiness but these are so outnumbered by expressions of affection that they can be expunged as unimportant.

The knowledge that I feel for this man equally as strongly as he loves me makes me walk around with a permanent smile on my face.

Sliding into bed and snuggling up to his warm body, I squeezed his hip with my palm and released the cataclysm of his need. The rolling waves of his passion engulfed me in hot breath and the panting frothiness of returned desire.

The sound of my own shrill gasping echoing around my head as he satisfied several weeks of repressed lust, a vocal reflection of the certain knowledge that this man is going to be in my life for better, for worse and forever.

Then, when my climax triggered his own orgasm, we collapsed into each other, holding tight onto the last vestiges of that interaction as our breathing returned to normal. Whispering sweet nothings, stroking and just revelling in the closeness.

I’m not quite sure what I was doing for the previous three decades but this really is intimacy.