We finished our coffee and we kissed and his hands found their way to my waist, then my stomach, then my breasts. I inhaled sharply.
“Is this okay?” He asked gently. I nodded in response.
“I don’t want to push you.” I smiled and kissed him again. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, as he carried me up the stairs. He laid me on the bed and straightened himself to take his shirt off, then hovered back over my body. He peeled his large shirt over my head and kissed my neck, and down my body. He was so gentle and patient. He kissed between my thighs and my legs opened for his like a book. I gasped and I ran my fingers through his hair. When his face returned to mine I felt down his body, he was so warm in contrast to my hands. I fumbled with his belt for so long I felt like crying. I’m not sure why, I get that that feeling a lot though. He kissed my forehead and laughed.
“It’s okay.” And he helped undress himself. When I felt him inside me again it all felt new, but it was still beautiful, we breathed deeply together, I pushed against him to try and place myself on top. He turned and held my hips so we never even had to separate our bodies, but I got up so I could face away from him. I was slower than he normally liked but I was still getting my rhythm back and I knew he understood, when I opened my eyes I found myself facing the mirror once again. I was the same girl I was that morning but I looked more alive, and it looked like I was dancing.
I miss the dancing.