Her tears, her sweat, her blood.  She had brought love to the union and he had brought a longing after the flesh.  “Sweat,” Zora Neale Hurston

He touched her, not with his usual urgency, as if her needs did not matter.  No this time his hands moved over her flesh as if he was memorizing every nuance.  She stared up at him, praying that her expression did not echo the surprise she felt.  She tried to stop herself from thinking, fighting to be in the moment.  To enjoy the feeling of pleasure his fingers were creating.  But she couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming.  Why now?  When did he learn that?  Where did he learn that?  Who did he learn it from?  In their 22 years of marriage his pleasure had come first.  It was intentional on their part, just what happens when two unlearned youth learn from each other.   Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his mouth to her breast, his tongue gently grazing across the hardening nipple.  Tears filled her eyes.  This was not his usual grab, pull and twist.  He had once told her he’d read that women enjoyed it when a man applied pressure to certain parts of their body and she had told him that every woman was different.  He’d listen for a moment, months in fact then old habits resurfaced.  The touch of his lips on her other breast brought her back to the now.  Full of questions her eyes met his and she opened her mouth to ask but his lips covered her in a deep soul healing embrace and she was caught up in the pleasurable tension building deep in the bottom of her stomach.  Her lips parted and the kiss deepened, his hands stilled and she reveled in the feeling that they were final in sync, together.

the end