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Stories from Mr. Canada’s Visit: Part 2

January 24, 2017

Almost a month later, it’s hard to piece together a day to day play back. I remember moments, meals, outings…..feelings:

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He cooked every night when we didn’t eat out. Wonderfully crafted meals. Lamb and homemade hummus. Chicken tacos and margaritas eaten on the roof. Korean-style ribs and fruit salad with a dressing he whipped up like it was nothing.

The first night he made the best chicken curry I’ve ever had. We posted a facebook call-out invitation and one of the Persian’s Iranian friends, Amir was the only person to show up. He told us all about his love life and Mr. Canada and I gave him advice like we were some old married couple. It was fun.

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We made love almost every morning and slept in, lazily lounging in my bed, our legs intertwined, his hands almost constantly tenderly touching my body. He made me coffee in the morning and sometimes breakfast. I made the eggs since he said over-easy was not his specialty.

We went for walks. I showed him the over-300- year-old oak tree at the cathedral. I think that was on Christmas Eve. We went to Girard Park and I showed him Cypress Lake, the mini-swamp on campus with alligators and turtles and cypress trees. It got really cold for a few days when he was here. Then it was right back to 70s.

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On Christmas morning, we exchanged gifts. He gave me a little photo album with note cards in the place of pictures. On them he had copied his favorite texts and messages exchanged between us. The last one said, “I have a crazy idea. What if I came for Christmas.” I was touched by the time he put into it and the sentimentality behind it. I gave him silver cufflinks with dragonflies on them.

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The sex was amazing. It got better each time. He figured out my body, my likes and dislikes right away. He had this look on his face when we made love…..serious and intense, something of a contrast to the jovial troublemaker he was most of the time.

He told me he loved the way I looked naked in bed, and the way I looked when we made love.

I’ve had great sex with others, well one in particular. I’ve had that fiery connection before but there was always something missing, a caveat. No one I had been with in the past five years was going to be around very long. They were temporary. But here was this man, rocking my world, giving me intense pleasure, loving me with each touch and movement, and he wanted to be a part of my life. He wanted me to be in his life. It was the intent that had been absent in other flings.

I’ve never felt so beautiful and so sexy as when he was making love to me. We were passionate and intensely intimate…..playful and fun. I loved the things he did to me, the way he made me feel. And when we were resting, there was nurturing touches, expressions of love and a sense of peace.

And I think he even taught me a little. He encouraged a tenderness in me that perhaps I had forgotten. It’s been a long time since I’ve been truly nurturing to someone. Probably not since my children were young. It’s hard to express tenderness when it’s neither appreciated nor reciprocated. I think I have to relearn how to be myself in that way. He would run his fingers ever so lightly across my back and body and when I did the same to him, it was surprisingly arousing. Maybe I’m relearning how to give to someone again.

After a couple of days, I started to feel dizzy and fatigued. My brain was already keeping more norepinephrine, dopamine and serotonin floating around in it then it wanted to. With all that great sex, now there was oxytocin and endorphins up there too. I was too happy. It was making my head spin. Mr. Canada threw my brain chemistry off.

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Once he was on top of me and I insisted he take off his t-shirt immediately.

“Too much yellow,” I said pulling the bright shirt off of him.

“Too much yellow?!” he asked later, laughing.

“I’m a very visual person.” I said. “I can’t have that much yellow in my face when I’m having sex.”

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I worked only one day that he was here. The night before the sex had been pretty steamy. I couldn’t get it out of my head as I sat at my desk, pretending to work. I texted him, telling him so. He suggested I come home for lunch. He had packed me leftover lamb and hummus, so I ate that first then told him I would be home at noon. When I walked in he was in the tub. I was a little annoyed. I was feeling a bit randy. I took the opportunity to change into matching blue lacy bra and panties and put my work clothes back on. I sat on the sofa and waited for him and he walked out completely nude. The panties were off seconds later, no attention paid to their prettiness. We had fun on that sofa. That was a fun lunch.

That night when I got home, he had chicken tacos and margaritas prepared and we ate on the roof, lying back and talking when we were done. “Wouldn’t this be nice to do every night?” he asked.

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Sometimes he would bathe while I put my make-up on and fixed my hair and I would look down at his body in the natural light as we talked. He face was so beautiful when he looked up at me with his giant brown eyes and perfect lips.

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We were checking out of the grocery store one day when I looked over and saw Pumpkin Patch standing near the exit. I waved an obligatory hi, hoping not to interact with him. He waved me over. I walked over and gave him a hug. He had put on a lot of weight. Gone were the tight muscles under a cool t-shirt or flat stomach under tight pants. His hair was long and darker and he was sporting a very full beard. He looked very different. The usual how-are-you conversation ensued and Mr. Canada came over with our groceries. I introduced them.

“I heard you were getting married,” I told Pumpkin Patch.

“Oh no,” he said with a look of disgust on his face. “But I am having a baby.”

The three of us then engaged in a very stupid and awkward exchange of jokes about a man having a baby, our common senses of humor forbidding the train wreck from stopping. I finally got us out of there and we walked to the Chinese take-out place at the other end of the shopping center.

“I dated him,” I said as we walked out.

“Him?” Mr. Canada asked incredulously. He made fun for me for dating Pumpkin Patch.

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For some reason, one of our conversations took us to the subject of fairies. I told him about the story of Lady Cottington and her fairy photographs. Brian Froud’s pressed fairy book, based on that story had always been a favorite of Lori’s and mine. He looked through it and laughed. “You should read it, it’s hilarious.”

“Read it to me,” he said. So, as he cooked dinner, I sat on my little hassock, drinking wine and reading aloud to him from Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy book. It was blissful.

to be continued…….

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From → Rantings

3 Comments
  1. Wow. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sounds too perfect.

  2. Nicolle Schultz permalink

    The link to this post has been deleted! Is there a chance you can re post

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

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