That is when he becomes someone else. It is not my man that pushes me down on the bed; the man I have lived with for seven happy years. It is not my man that yanks off my robe and tears at my nightgown. No, he is another. The man who roughly grabs at my breasts, as I try to push away, does not have a name. He is not mine, I know. He chews on my nipple, but I do not respond, his unshaven chin bristling against my skin. I try to roll over, but his large, calloused hands flip me back. He climbs to a sit and straddles my thighs, pinning me down. I struggle, futilely, against his massive weight. I do not want this, but he is unknowing. His mind is possessed; I cannot get through. He gropes my mound, spreading the creases that are so unprepared. It is his will; I cannot deny him. The force of his entry is foreign. He pushes his way in, determined, as if to release all the anger and fear pent up inside. His thrusts are mechanical, devoid of the familiar love that he once brought with him. My ache is real. However I struggle, I only serve only to fight against myself. I try to relax, to soothe the burn, until it is over. It is over almost as soon as it is begun. He pushes me aside as he withers back under the covers to sleep. The stranger within him begins to snore. I lie awake, feeling empty, my body recovering from the rude shock it has received. I roll my tired body around, tucking my knees up toward my chest, accepting my fate, resigned. I lower my eyelids, as if doing so will summon the gods of sleep to put me at peace once again.
I wake up, and it is morning. The new sun is shining brightly through the blinds. I stretch my limbs and revitalize my soul. I look to the other pillow. The strange man has risen from the bed, a scrape and tap of shaving resounds from the bathroom sink. I hear the shower turning on, and minutes fly by as he washes the remnants of the stranger from his body. He enters the room, a new man, wrapped in a familiar, comforting towel. He approaches the bedside, cautiously, climbing in by my side to say hello. His sweet-smelling arm reaches over my breast to caress my shoulder. He has no memory of the night before.
I pull closer to his warm body, his hand searching the roundness of my curves, softly teasing a nipple, taking it into his mouth. As he sucks gently, he pulls last night's chill from my body, drawing out the warm, liquid love of today's desire. His hands breathe fire through my skin, spreading a glowing warmth that radiates through my insides, flipping my switch. He plants tender kisses on my hips and lower belly, sending familiar waves of pleasure coasting downwards, all through me. I move closer to him as I sit myself up. I feel my wetness call to his manhood as I reach over to stroke him to readiness. My fingers gently tease his friendly shaft, circling the head slowly to coax out a love-tear. My palms cup his balls, massaging gently, the way I know will please him. This is my man, the man that I love. I climb astride him, lowering myself slowly onto his firmness, burying him deep within me. He feels my love as I ride him, passionately pumping, journeying far away from the previous night's plunder. My ride becomes faster, even more urgent, as I feel myself fly to that familiar place of ravenous release. Everything tightens suddenly, and all the emotions pent up inside me explode with a cataclysmic burst. My body shakes and I collapse upon the body of my man, gently trembling. His arm reaches around my back, joining our love. I close my eyes for a long moment, secure in knowing my man has returned.
The Homecoming
by
peppercorn
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Thu, 25th March, 2010
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