Get REAL Ch. 05: Reciprocal

They remained that way for several minutes, relaxed yet aroused, Cassie aware of a glow radiating from her groin and diffusing throughout her whole pelvis. Marcos strained to hold himself back. He had entered her with his fingers, his tongue, and wanted like nothing else in this world to have what he could only imagine was the ultimate of entries.

As their arousal waned, she began kissing him ferociously again, felt him stiffen against her, and let him push into her vulva a fraction further, against her conflicted resistance. Then they stopped themselves and floated, attending to all the tingles spreading outward from their sex.

Over and over they repeated this pattern—of rest, then rambunctiousness; of pausing, then passionately pursuing. Cassie let him snuggle his penis along the cleft of her folds, abutting her bud, Marcos feeling himself totally surrounded, the two moving in time to their passion, vying for the height of climax, but always stopping just short.

Then it happened.

"Woww!"

"Wooww is right!"

"Marcos, it's like paint blending, swirling in great spirals, effortless mixing into colors I have never seen before."

"We're weightless, Cassie, you and I, floating."

And they lied there, Cassie atop Marcos, letting themselves feel this new sensation—or old sensation—taken to limitlessness.

To Marcos, it was like the feeling he got just after pumping his hardest on a swing, reaching the peak of his ascent, right at the moment of leaping off...but it didn't change. No gravity pulled him toward earth. No bracing for the impact. He was just up in the air, suspended.

Cassie was tingling all over, feeling warm and buoyant, like in the Caribbean waters in summer. And it was brilliantly visual for her, filled with shapes she could not necessarily identify, but there was no need to. It was just to be enjoyed, like a kaleidoscope changing with every momentary turn of the cylinder.

"It seems like an eternity."

"But as if time has never passed."

"No beginning..."

"....nor end."

There was no more need to do anything. No urgency of purpose. No drive to attain. No necessity to make love to achieve an orgasm. They were in ecstasy.

What happened afterward was impossible to reconstruct. How they managed to go upstairs together and fall asleep in Cassie's queen bed remained a mystery. All Marcos recalled was that he awoke uncharacteristically early on Sunday morning, with dawn barely peaking through the budding maples. He gazed upon Cassie, softly breathing, hair in disarray over her cheek, covers rising and falling in time with the little gusts of exhalation swaying her erratic strands.

He had experienced something he had never before felt. Not with Maria. Not even with Randi. There was indeed something very special about this person.

Although he had formerly found fulfillment in loving two wives, he knew, after tonight, that his happiness lay in committing to only one woman. And he made up his mind, as agonizing as Maria might find it for him to leave her, that he would do so. He would tell Cassie when she awoke that morning that he would, for her, un-marry himself. And he closed his eyes to rehearse his delivery.

At her front door, Cassie hugged Marcos, like she never wanted to let him go. She kissed him earnestly on the lips, then once more lightly, before pulling herself back to look for a long time into those sepia eyes of his, begging her for an immediate answer. She, too, had never had such an ecstatic experience, yet she needed time to decide. A lot of time, which fortunately, was coming. He had heard that.

And, as he turned to leave, she watched with great upheaval in her chest as he plodded down her front steps, lumbered to his little car, started the engine, and drove slowly out of sight.

Then she let herself cry. Hard.