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One mans throwaway can be another mans treasure

Years of neglect and blaming for the effects childbearing left on your body gives you a preference for the lights off, But I see your breast swing free as you remove your bra; the glow from the hotel sign outside the window casts their shadow on the wall, making them look huge.

When your nipples become excited, I don't care about their size. I suck them like a hungry babe, mother's teat. I loved the feeling of your hard nipples rolling in my mouth; no doubt the result from long ago when I offered my first taste of soft, warm nipples, which forever impacted the way I feel about women.

We both play our part so well. You are on top, with a guiding hand; you like the extra length and girth.

Adjusting your hips as you slowly take me in, settling down as your thighs spread till I am deep inside you, pelvis to pelvis. Your hips find that slow rhythm, so uniquely yours, I don't even try to sync; I arch my back. Thrust up, holding stiff and rigid works best, leaving you in control of dialing in our pleasure; you never disappoint.

You bend forward, your tongue serpentine between my lips, tasting smooth and sweet of the lingering flavor of after-dinner baileys.

Wall shadow silhouettes your body’s dance of lust, hips searching out what feels best, with bumps and grinds, like a pole dancer. Your nipples rolling between my fingertips bring forth sounds that only a female in lust can make when approaching orgasm.

You lean back and jerk your hips back and forth in such a way that I can feel your cervix rub the head of my cock, which always makes you cum…. Me too, it feels like the tip of a tongue flicking my cock… afterward, passion spent you collapse on top of me, whispering in my ear you felt me squirt five times when I came inside you, then you bite my earlobe. But I know you are not that good at math.

I watch you dress and brush your hair in the mirror. I know you should be home by 10; your yoga class was over at 9:30. I wonder if he notices how you have bloomed in the last few months, but then, remembering back, I doubt it.

It seemed only yesterday when I boarded that Panga (Boat) in Mexico for a snorkeling tour, and you were sitting beside your half-inebriated husband at 9 am.

He offered me a beer, and I declined; 15 minutes later, I knew his entire life story: how he flew his plane into a little town in Wisconsin and swept an 18-year-old waitress off her feet. How he made a fortune starting a company that worked on sewers like “Ed Norton in Honeymooners.”

When a young Mexican woman in a bikini came aboard with her daughter, he started making rude remarks like “Hey, come on in here baby, look at that ass on her,” taking it for granted that she didn't speak English. Embarrassed! You told him you would return to the hotel if he didn’t stop. On the way out to the reef, he told me that you had ass and tits like that till the kids came along and ruined them. I could tell you had heard that before from the resigned look of hurt and embarrassment on your face.

He wouldn't leave the beer cooler to go snorkeling with you. You decided you better not go as you had never been snorkeling before. I talked you into coming; you weren't exactly my type, but I felt terrible about you missing out. In the water, you were very tense. You grabbed my arm and held on when we drifted apart in the current. You liked watching the fish below and tried to ask me questions through your mask underwater.

Later on the beach, they had a fish barbecue for lunch with entertainment and drinks. Your husband passed out in the chaise lounge, and I was your partner in the beach games.

I helped you get him back in the boat, then back at the dock, into a taxi, and back to the resort.

You were thin and mousy, and I was not attracted to you sexually, but when you took my hand to say goodbye and thank me, I saw something in your eyes besides gratefulness that interested me, but I wasn't sure what it was.

You were starved for attention, and over the next few days at the resort, your husband would drink himself into oblivion by noon. You saw the “why do you stay with the assholes” look in my eye and defended him, saying he always drank too much on vacation but worked long hours at home and was a good provider. ..Seriously! That was like telling me that with no skills or education and two kids, with any self-confidence gone, you might have had, you were trapped.

I coached you into playing volleyball in the pool and was surprised at your coordination.

I noticed when parts of our bodies touched, you never moved away. I liked seeing the pleasure in your eyes when I complimented you.

I said you would look good in a bikini; you said you had too many stretch marks and didn't have the right kind of body. I assured you did; you smiled, touched my hand, and became girly and shy.

I discovered “Hunger” was what I had detected earlier in your eyes when we fucked the next day in a nearby hotel. At the same time, “Ed Norton” was sucking up margaritas and checking out the young bikini-clad beauties from his chaise lounge by the pool, no doubt feeling secure that no one would be interested in fucking his worn-out woman. And so it began!

It’s a shame but true that due to childbirth, many women’s bodies and vaginas change. It is one of the reasons some men will start to look elsewhere after a woman has given birth since they become intimidated by the extra space, but I guess it can work both ways; women like a good fit as well.