Dry
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“Where’s my phone?” I ask him as he lays atop me, post-orgasm (mine, of course).
After fishing about under my left hip, he hands the blue-cased gadget to me.
“Woops! Phone was unlocked. I hope we didn’t accidentally call my mom during our fuck-a-thon,” I say with a grin. Then, holding my phone at an angle I *think* might catch us both…
“SELFIE!” I laugh. “Say CHEESE!”
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CHEEEEZ
Uh-oh… Forgot the flash…
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The photo above was taken in September 2017 while walking on the beach with my visiting long-distance partner. (Henceforth, long-distance partner = LDP) The photograph seems metaphorical somehow. Perhaps it is the solitary-ness of the birds; though they are both meandering through the waves at the same time and in the same place, they are clearly not ‘together’ in a way that indicates that they are experiencing the moment in the same way.
My takeaway: Commonality of place, time, and shared activity does not necessarily equate to mutual interpretation of / understanding about the experience.
I saw my LDP twice in 2017. During our visits this past year – spring and fall, respectively – I think the two of us were, at times, very much like those two birds in the photo above. We were in the same space, doing the same things… We were together, yes. But I don’t think we were having the same experience.
By special request.
This photo was taken in the aftermath of the sexy times I wrote about during my celebratory post-a-day* Christmas blogfest. It’s a bit difficult to see how wet his hand is, but if you take the visible glisten and magnify it by about 17, that should give you an idea. (And I absolutely LOVE that his fingers are prune-y because he was inside me so long. 😉 )
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