From the time we walked through the door that night to the moment I woke up in his arms the next morning I was hard, I could have gone all night, we almost did and not just horny teenager hard but truly and lustfully rock solid. Like lovers who for reasons beyond their control must be separated, are reunited in passion. We started out on the sofa where as he first kissed me but by morning we had migrated numerous locations and now found ourselves on the floor entangled in our own bodies.
“Good Morning” I said sweetly in his ear, pecking the sweat still lingering from his neck.
“Good Afternoon actually” lifting his head to look through the bay window, poetry flowing from his lips “but morning does bring sweet delights” another kiss. His Voice: rough around the edges a slight slur and mysterious curl to his words, deep and romantic, much more manly than my own.
I remember as he slipped away and stood naked before my wanting eyes -his manly body stretching and creaking into the day- He looked down at me and smiled “You know great mind once said, ‘In Africa it is the lion and the gazelle. When a gazelle wakes up it knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will die. When a lion wakes up it knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve. Now it doesn't really matter whether you are the lion or the gazelle... for when the sun comes up, you'd better be running.’”
He didn’t leave, nor did he ask me to go either. I close my eyes listening to his feet as they cross the floor creaking their way through his tiny apartment. When I open them he stands above me dressed in tight black jeans, freshly showered, offering to pour me a cup of coffee. I sit up and rub my eyes again. Before I could answer intensity over took his eyes and he whispered, “Roar!” attacking my nakedness to devour me. You see I was the gazelle, but knew I would never have wanted to run.