I had printed out photos for Luke and Mason at work on the Epson Stylus PHOTO 1280 (really good), so I walked those over as soon as I got home from work and changed into some shorts. God, the Southern mugginess is finally hitting in full force. The guys loved the pics, and I got to see inside their house. Next, over to Ricky and Lucy's place to take care of the Jacks. Back home and dinner was ready. Chicken with tomato, basil, and green onion sauce (the tomatoes and basil from our garden) over wide pasta noodles, and some silver queen corn that Jake got from a coworker (not as sweet as what we've been buying at Publix).

After dinner, Sara was talking with Deb about the unsatisfying phone sex that she'd tried to get started with a guy from online that afternoon. Deb said something that included the phrase "pencil dick", and Sara said she didn't care if a guy had a pencil dick as long as he had a big, fat, 8-inch imagination. And her other turn-off: guys who don't know the difference between "dominate" and "dominant". Here's a clue for you guys who want to snag a girl with a big, luscious pair of brain lobes: "dominate" is a verb, "dominant" is an adjective. You should call yourself a "dominant male", not a "dominate male". You wouldn't believe how pervasive this improper usage is. Anyway, she got on the phone with a guy and he "bored the snot out of" her.

Jake asked if she could leave Sara to entertain me while I washed dishes and take Deb next door to keep her company while she packed. I said, "sure", but complained bitterly about having to spend time alone with Sara, just to throw them off the track. Shyeah, right.

Jake and Deb left, and Sara and I talked while I started the dishes. She talked about her urge lately to hook up with guys in the afternoon for little romps again (she used to do this back in the day), and how would I feel about that. We'd also been talking about my chances of finding anybody fun to play with while I'm in Chicago. Not very good due to my shyness and the category of folks I'll be spending my time with (mostly socially conservative married white guys in their fifties).

Sara came up behind me at the sink to wrap her arms around my waist and nuzzle up against me.

Sara: How long will it take you to finish those dishes?
Badsnake: I'm going to wash these five and then I'm going to turn around and kiss you hard because I don't think I'll have time to do them all before they get back. *wash wash wash wash wash rinse rinse rinse rinse rinse*

I stripped off my gloves, turned around, and we started to kiss. God, it was hot. I had a lot of confidence and attitude going. I dropped my voice into a slightly deeper range and spoke to her in the way that I do when I'm topping her�quietly, intently.

Badsnake: I want to push you up against a wall and fuck you right now.
Sara: I'm not wet enough yet.
Badsnake: You would be by the time I got your zipper down.
Sara: ohhh.
Badsnake: All I'd have to do is put my hand around your throat and you'd be ready.
Sara: Ohhhhhh.

When I started saying these things, I was just teasing her. Cruelly. I didn't initially intend for it to go further. But then I just wanted it. I wanted her. Right then.

I started backing her up, out of the kitchen. She stumbled out of her sandals. We reached the wall in the back hallway, next to the bathroom. I reached over and turned off a couple lights because you can see this hallway through the window from the back steps next door.

I pressed her against the wall, grabbing a handful of her hair, kicking her feet apart. I pushed her shirt up and took a breast in my mouth as I unbottoned her shorts and tugged the zipper down.

Badsnake: I want you to come hard, and fast.

I shoved my hand down inside her panties. She was wet enough. I put my forearm across her chest, just below her neck, and pinned her to the wall as I slid two fingers inside her.

It took about 30 seconds. Kind of a rolling, double-orgasm. I love watching her face and feeling her clench down on me as I tug at her insides, pulling the response out of her. We kissed more while I put her clothes back in order.

Badsnake: I feel like a restaurant dishwasher who just got some in the back alley.
Sara: I feel like the slut who just got fucked by the dishwasher in they alley.

Then she asked if this intense bout of possessive, claiming behavior stemmed from her talking about fucking guys. Well, now that she made me think about it, yes. Yes, it probably did. I told her not to forget that. Just for future reference. She promised she wouldn't.

It was great. I love that kind of intensity. It's not like what we usually do, because we always have long dates. To build it up, fuck, and then stop like that is such a charge.

I went back to washing dishes. We kept talking. I finished with the dishes. The girls weren't back yet. I lamented the fact that I had to wash my hands (wet woman smell, good; rubber glove smell, bad). *wash wash wash*

Sara: Why? All you have to do is freshen it up.

*rinse*

Back to the hallway. This time in a doorframe where it was a little bit darker. Hard kissing, hard sucking, hard, fast fuck.

Badsnake: You want me to claim you, don't you? You like it.
Sara: uh-huh
Badsnake: Every minute I fuck you, I do own you.

Wham.

She took my hand, sucked my fingers, and then kissed me. I could taste her juices on her tongue. I was pretty fucking wet myself by this point, and that turned me on even more.

She told me something that, to me, is the one of the highest compliments she can give me. "No one has ever fucked me the way that you do." And, "I would never want to fuck anyone else if I could have you every day." I thought a lot about whether I wanted to set that down on this page or not. But part of the reason I write here is so that I will remember these days down the line. I want to remember that part.

It doesn't mean that she loves Jake any less, or that there's trouble in paradise. It just means that we have achieved an amazing, electric synchronicity of sexuality. We're extremely well paired in that aspect. We said our I-love-yous to each other. Several times. Then we got it back together and headed next door before we ended up rolling around on the floor.

After we split back up into our proper pairs for the night, I had a wonderful moment of feeling immensely close to Deb as we sat on the front porch together and talked.

I don't care how many chores I have to do this weekend. I'm an extraordinarily lucky woman. Every day is like a birthday for me.