Intensity

“I love you so much that it makes me want to cry. And sometimes I feel pathetic!”

He lay there looking into my eyes and, as I returned his gaze, the intensity of two loves meeting and colliding produced an electricity that was almost palpable.

It’s frightening how much he loves me and he commented that some might not be able to cope. But, whilst part of me wants to run away and hide, most of me just wants to suck it up, absorb it and then give it back to him with knobs on.

I have blossomed under the warmth of his feelings for me.

And, after so many years where I knew that the majority of his being did indeed love me, I had to endure the harsh utterances of his mouth, fuelled by the small portion of his brain that wanted a more traditional relationship – a proper girlfriend. I struggled then, forcing my way through the detritus of friends’ comments. They were all well-meaning. They cared about him and didn’t want him to get hurt, which seemed like the only outcome in such a twisted, tangled web. It wasn’t personal against me. They like me but their concern was for him.

So, to come to this point in my life where a man cannot contain the depth of his feeling for me and introduces me to anyone who will listen as ‘My Joanna’…

We smile at each other, our gaze locked together, as I explain my fears and he kisses me, telling me that this is the right answer and that we will work together to maintain the strength of our feelings for each other. Enjoy this mutual intensity.

Which is when the heat from his body and the feel of his skin against mine becomes too much.

Writhing my pelvis against his thigh and twisting his chest hair in my clenched fist, I feel the desire welling up inside me. Just as he loves me more than he has ever loved any woman, I want this man just as keenly. It is an uncontrollable lust that threatens to consume me if not satisfied forthwith. But the previous discomfort of his entrance fills me with fear.

Turning my back to him, we spoon and he slides easily inside me, the liquid evidence of my desire facilitating the penetration from a different angle, avoiding the area of delicate skin that still troubles me. Gentle thrusts building me towards the inevitable climax and then the knowledge that he too has come… inside me.

It is so long since we have orgasmed together that I cannot think to be concerned, just enjoying the moment as I squeeze the last drops out of him.

It has been eleven months since I was last troubled by Aunt Flo and I have my fingers crossed that I am moving into the next stage of being a woman.

And, with this man beside me, I intend to enjoy every last minute of it.