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Sweat trickles down my neck. My breath quickens as my heart pounds. Some muscles quiver with untapped energy, while others throb in a dull ache.
His breath huffs and jolts next to me. We move in time, a synchronicity borne of practice and time spent in each other’s presence.
Our words spill out between breaths. A few here. More there. Neither of us worry about being overheard, although the passion is unmistakable. This is our time.
Every dip and curve is damp. What few clothes I wear cling to my body, an aggravation to be yanked off, discarded, and forgotten.
I feel aches in places I didn’t know could twinge. My body complains even as it embraces the moment, knowing this is what it needs most of all.
As we near the finish, we both release exhalations of relief and exhaustion. We would not trade these moments for anything, but the end always feels so sweet.
And that’s when we reached our front door and our evening walk was complete.
Physical exertion is physical exertion, and spending time with the one you love is well spent no matter what you do. Since my sexual mojo seems to be stalling out, I’ll take what I can get, and a strenuous walk that leaves me sweaty and exhausted will have to do.