Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Last Night

We are sleeping. I am in my usual position : on my left side, left arm stretched out under my head, being used to prop up my pillow, which is stuffed between my shoulder and my ear; my left hand dangling off into space; my body hanging onto the last 18 inches of mattress.

The rest of the queen-sized bed is his.

With all that room at his disposal, he is still pressed up against my back. I'm dozing in and out of consciousness, but he's out like a light, sawing logs. I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, and his body spooned up against mine. This feels glorious, I think to myself. I am awake enough to realize that if he pushes forward on me, I'll topple off of the bed. So, I push back on him a bit. Not roughly or aggressively, I'm just trying to shift my center of gravity back towards the safety of the middle of the bed. I'm kind of "counter-snuggling", but I'm also trying to protect myself. Our feet are inter-twined under the heaps of blankets.

He grunts and leans into the pressure I exert and throws a leg over mine. The man is a total Bed Hog. I smile and turn my body so that I am on my back. I snake my right arm under his pillow and stretch it out along the length of the headboard. Instead of being burrowed into my back and neck, his face is now plowed into my armpit - a favorite position of his. I hear him breathe deeply and sigh a contented sigh, taking in my musk. He throws an arm across my chest and pulls himself even deeper into me. I nearly chuckle outloud.

I am now wide awake because I am on my back, but I am loving the moment. I bend my right arm and lightly stroke his back. He is warm and moist from sleep, and his hairiness across my arm and my palm always arouses me. I wouldn't dare wake him, but I squeeze him in my arm a bit, just a slight, one-armed hug.

He fights this and pushes my arm away. He turns away from me now and I catch a glimpse of his face: sound asleep yet smiling a little smile. He always looks like a little boy to me when he sleeps, all puffy-faced and hair-tossled. Instead of his nose in my pit, he has now pushed his ass up upon my right hip. He's using my shoulder as his pillow, and pulls the same arm down now onto his chest and holds onto it in an embrace. His hot breath is on my bicep, and I feel his lips brush the hair on my arm. I think I feel a kiss.

I look down and see that my cock is mere inches from his ass crack. That's all the visual I need, and I begin to get hard.

I have no intention of waking him for sex, but I can't help but reach for his buttocks with my left hand. Ever so lightly, I place my hand on a hairy cheek and feel the muscle in my palm. Glorious. The heat of his flesh is amazingly erotic. My dick twitches. I turn my head and kiss him on the back of the neck.

He flinches from being tickled by the beard on my face, and scrunches into a fetal position, pulling his ass away from my hand. He reaches for the covers and creates a barrier between our bodies. He finally speaks.

"Knock it off..." he croaks. And, just like that, he is back to sleep.

Shame on me! How could I be so selfish?

I roll back over onto my left side and find my place on the ledge in the darkness. I sigh heavily, feeling rejected and misunderstood. I should have known this would happen. It always does. I close my eyes to fall back asleep. As I'm drifting, the phone rings...

When I open my eyes, I see the clock says that's it's 6am. The phonecall is from work, calling to report a problem. I turn onto my back and look across the expanse of my bed. The far side is still undisturbed, as it usually is. The far pillow still sits neatly atop the comforter on that side. His side. He's been gone for nearly two years now, and yet I still dream of him sleeping next to me. Just every now and then. They are infrequent, these dreams, but intense.

I sit up and rub my eyes, wondering if the dreams will ever stop. It still feels so real.

And I still sleep on the edge of the bed.

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