The man I live with is very intense. He is present in all that he does and takes my attention when we are together. When we are together I feel our edges blend. At times this frightens me so I withdraw to nurture my identity. For this reason he is the pursuer in this relationship. And he pursues me relentlessly.

There is sex and there is making love. When we love the man I live with holds me in his arms and watches me with his eyes and begins his moves. At times he likes to be aloof, tuning my body like a violinist preparing for a concert. The man I live with is very skillful. I feel like a car under the hands of a master mechanic. He is not satisfied until he has felt me clench over and over again, until I have have become dazed from his tongue. Then he continues the journey inside my body.

At times he lies back and is still, allowing me to touch and kiss all his tender spots, allowing me to stroke his body gently until he trembles. The man I live with does not like to be vulnerable, so I treasure these times as rare gifts. At the height of his ecstasy his pupils dilate, making him look drugged and spacey.

In the night when I can’t sleep sometimes I roam about the house and yard. Or I’ll get on the computer. Sometimes the man I live with comes and sits up with me. Sometimes we sit on the balcony together and watch the stars. Sometimes he’ll stand beside me when I’m on the computer and take my wrist and say, Come to bed. Once there he holds me tight, all night long.

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