“You can’t be serious,” he is sitting forward in his chair, strong arms crossed in from of him, eyes sparkling with challenge that I have seen too often. It’s a mixture of his natural interest in sex and a comfortable banter that we share in almost every second we speak. It was not a question, but he is waiting. I let him wait a few more heartbeats because I know his mind is racing with the possibilities…and I can hear his thoughts. I always enjoy the way shock turns into fascination.
“Not at all. You know that I never joke about sex,” I say smiling because I know he is still waiting for the answers. He will wait. It is part of how we communicate.
“Well?…,” I try not to laugh at his impatience, but my eyes go a little blurry as he starts to talk with his hands. He knows I watch the way he touches everything with those incredible, strong hands big enough to lock my imagination in the mental masturbations of digital stimulations.
“Well?…,” he says again.
“I really can’t image what you want me to say. I think sweat on a man is completely sexy.”
He looks at me like he can’t imagine what I am saying. I think, though, he can imagine too well. His pause tells me that his mind is not working out the simple sexual statement that I have put before him, but I read the visuals passing through his mind. His hands, folded in front of him, tighten and release as his breathing does the same.
As an ex-military man, it is easy to see that this news is shaking his very foundation. Again, he waits…focused on me.
“I am not talking about that greasy, ‘not had a bath in week’ kind of thing. It’s just a turn on to see a man covered in sweat after he has been doing something physical that kicks his heartbeat up a notch. The sweat rolling down his body…,” I realize that it is getting very warm in the room. I wonder silently if the air conditioner is off.
“You know…I really know no one like you,” he is smiling and talking with his hands again. I feel the need…no, the want…to stroke his mind by taking that smile from his face. When he stutters, I feel powerful. And, I am just in the mood for power. I match his smile.
“Its like the feeling men get when they see a woman dripping with water after a shower. Skin warm and glistening with drops,” he is not smiling and his eyes are very focused. With his full attention, we move forward.
“Part of satisfying a woman is knowing what she loves…and giving it to her. I remember last year at Christmas, our favorite hockey team was having a charity auction of their jerseys after the game. The goalie is my particular favorite. During a break in the game, The Marine went down to the bidding booth and put a huge bid on the goalies jersey and won it for me.” I give him a few seconds to follow what I am telling him. I can tell by the moment of his fingers… tightening and loosening…that his mind is working. It’s not over and he does not get off that easy!
“After the game, The Marine took my hand and walked me down to the ice. He beamed with the greatest of pride as the goalie, warrior of the ice, took off his sweaty jersey and slid it over my head.” The Marine understands how I feel about sweat on a man and knows that hockey is my favorite sport. He combined the two to make a perfect memory.
And I returned the favor by making him sweat for many hours afterward and many times since. Yes, I love a sweaty man!
It’s quiet and his hands arent moving anymore. ~~Dee