Second

"Show me," I whisper.

"What?"

"Show me."

"Show you. . .?"

I whisper even lower. "Will you show me the way she touches you? That's my question. God, I just want to know."

He laughs. He laughs loudly, turning onto his side and facing me. This absolutely devastates me, his laughing, and I turn away from him. I do not have the strength to stand up and run away. I do not have the strength to scream, "Stop." So, I resort to the only action my body can bear. I let the infinite storehouse of tears flow from my eyes.

His laughter ceases. This makes me cry more. I am afraid of what he will say or do. I am afraid that he will offer to call up my old psychiatrist. I am afraid that he will just give me a kiss on my shoulder and dismiss this.

Then I feel his arms around my waist. My body shakes crazily and I want him to make me forget about the next day, or even the next minute of my life. He buries his head into the back of my neck, using his nose to lift my hair away.

"Baby."

My back arches and his hands move to cup my breasts. He kisses the back of my neck softly, in small spurts. My breasts face the knowledge of his hands....fingers pinching gently at my nipples. His naked thigh moves carefully between my bent legs until I can feel the strength of his hardness beneath my sex.

The smell of him behind me is consuming. He moves like a python around my body, his fingers and tongue performing foreplay as if I were a delicately strung harp. His breathing is careful and he does not move quickly. His slowness creates a fire in my belly and I turn my body to him, facing his eyes which are drunk with ecstasy.

"Show me," I breathe, "show me how she kisses you."

He kisses my forehead, moving to my eyelids, cheeks, jaw line, the corners of my lips. Yes, of course. It is clear that he has control of everything that is taking place. I do not try to usurp him but simply reflect to him his own strength.

He closes his lips over mine. My limbs fumble for his legs as his tongue bathes the inside of my mouth. I drink from him as if he were giving me an elixir for all the pains, all the mishaps in my life. His kiss is both masculine and feminime, both overwhelming and yielding. I cry in his kiss and he pulls back momentarily, wiping my new tears, but he knows that more will follow. He returns to kissing me and my mouth receives this reunion wholly, as if one second of absence were an eternity of separation from that kiss.

He feels my hunger and feeds it. I feel his longing. Though I had asked him to show me his wife's art of lovemaking, it now feels as if he and he only is on top of me --body upon body. Carefully, running his hands over me. Examining every curve. Every fold. He has overpowered my mind. All my thoughts are of he and I.

I reach up with one hand, cupping the side of his face. He dips his mouth into the palm of my hand. He licks the fullness of my whole hand, licking each finger with such fervor that it feels like my hand will catch on fire.

He guides my well-licked hands to his chest. My fingers pass over it as if I am playing a piano made of fragile keys. Stopping the leading motion long enough to pinch his nipples between my fingers. He moans lightly, lifting his chin to the ceiling. I break free from his guiding hand. With both hands, I explore his torso, his ribs, the flatness of his stomach. His every muscle is so defined. My fingers dig into the contours of these muscles. He looks down into my eyes with a gaze that says nothing but is full of possibilities.

My hands dance down to his hips. His hardness standing straight outward, pressing against my stomach, twitching slightly. A drop of precum oozing out of the head and landing on my chest as he moves it to my awaiting lips. I consume him fully, as if I had no choice, as if taking him with my mouth were more vital than air or food. I reach behind grabbing his ass cheeks, feeling their muscularity, how they relax and harden with each thrust.

He turns himself over, so that the front of his hips are on my face and his own face, its flushed breath and mouth are over my sex, which is by now rich with wetness and yearning. His knees are at the sides of my face. I take caution in this position, breathing lightly on each other's inner thighs and knees. Running the tip of my tongue over the expanse of his hardness. I inhale him deeply. His head arches up to the heavens with moans directed toward the Goddesses above. I feel and hear this and inhale him again.

He returns my affection, eating fully from my sex, madly burying his face between my legs. Plunging his tongue into my moist flower. He searches my chasm like a buck that thirsts for water so badly, that he will pierce the barren earth with his raw tongue for any droplet of moisture. This is a dance of comfort, closure and truth.

Arms, legs, and torsos take up the expanse of the bed. We search for and find each other's peaks. I am a mass of starvation and celebration--joyous screaming with the body. A shout for love as we both move to a more urgent rhythm. He introduces his fingers to join his tongue's lovemaking. I gasp for precious air and suckle him more deeply into my mouth. Grabbing his ass and pulling his wonderful heaviness down against my face, shutting out all outside air and the dim light of the lamp. He responds by lightly biting my nodule, which sends preliminary waves of joy throughout my lower body.

I wrap my legs over him, my knees crossing above his head. Moans, gasps and screams as suddenly his hips writhe upward and then crash down firercely on my face. Endlessly grinding his hardness into my mouth. His spasms cause him to thrust his tongue even harder inside me, his deft muscle moving back and forth quickly. My back arches, as does his--I am now a cat in heat and we are two cats enraptured by instinct. His jism spews forth into my waiting mouth like lava erupting from a volcano which has laid dormant for years, saving the hot firey liquid till now. This very second. Then he screams my name, not even tending to my sex--this simple bellow of my birth name--makes me come shortly after he does. I swallow his fire. It is heavy and numbs my mouth; its sweetness is unbearable. I taste all of him, in copious amounts.

He dismounts me and laps the river of fire between my legs like a grateful kitten. His eyes are closed, yet the eyelids fluttering quickly. Finally he opens his eyes and throws me an amorous glance and cleans off my swollen vulva with gentle strokes. His tongue is pleasing and warm. I throw my arms over my head and breathe deeply. The smell of sex. I smile reverently and speak.

"God, I have missed you so much."

He smiles and crawls up beside me. Wrapping himself fully around me. Holding me tight. We both lay here, speechless, for an uncertain amount of time. A soft, gray light filters through the windows by the bed. Dawn. Then he stirs. He must shower and head home. Home to his wife. I lay in the bed. Embraced by his lingering scent. Our scents combined. I refuse the barrage of questions that try to make their way into my mind. I do not need answers for them. I know the answers already. I have known all along. They mean nothing to me now. My body ...it feels cleansed and broken. A new vessel. I move slightly, sensing the wetness all around me. He enters the room after his shower, cleansed and refreshed, fully clothed.

"It's okay. Baby, you're gonna' be fine. We will be fine." he assures me. Leaning down, he kisses the top of my head before turning to walk into the brightness behind him. I want him to look back but he does not.

I pull the covers up around me as the door closes, curling up tighter, tighter, pushing my face into the pillow. I think that I wouldn't feel as bad if I knew the sensual side of his wife, the part of her I would never witness--but I feel worse now.

The tears come, silent and sweet, along with the knowledge that I will always be second in the heart of the man I love.