“What’s the story with this?” I blurt out, brushing my fingers over an old scar arching over my sweetheart’s left brow.
He grins, his eyes lighting up with mischief, “You wouldn’t believe it, but a big sufuria fell on me when I was a kid.” We burst out laughing. It’s our thing, finding joy in each other’s company. Laughing together. Running our fingers on each other’s bodies, touching, tracing, looking for scars and marks and the stories behind them. He draws me in, burying his face in my neck, making a sound halfway between a purr and a moan. Cuddles are big for this man. He pulls the sheets over our naked bodies. It feels warm and nice. He then holds me tight, like he is trying to glue me to his skin. Men cuddle like they’re heading off to battle at dawn. And frankly, leaving your lover’s house in the morning should feel like leaving for war. Hold on tight, soldier.
“What were you up to when that pot attacked you?” I tease him, my fingers dancing through his beard and a mischievous glint in my eyes matching his, — just the way I like it. I’m searching his skin for anything to inquire about or play with.
He starts, “Well, there’s this aunt of mine…” His words flow freely in these cuddle sessions. We talk about everything — childhood memories, office gossip (Udaku is a must!), and even national affairs like climate change, the price of avocadoes or contentious bills in Parliament. That’s my sapiosexual side kicking in.
Aftercare is my jam, and he’s tuned into that. He keeps water by the bed, because let’s face it, moaning will leave you parched. After our last steamy session, he surprised me with a towel warmer. I had shown him this trick I saw online, and boy, did he love it! Plus, warm towels? Perfect cleaning options after sex. We’re big on reassurance too. It is almost like giving each other little ‘thank you’ speeches, if you will. He whispers sweet nothings, making me giggle and blush. Man’s got a way with words. I ask how he’s feeling, and he says, “fantastic,” before diving back into my neck, giving my ear a playful nibble. My heart dances. I like the feeling it gives. After dissecting the latest on taxes and parliamentary bills, we hit the shower together. We talk and laugh together under the shower, our voices echoing off the tiles. It is an extension of our connection, a continuation of our intimacy. Then, we will share a meal. Feed your loved ones – that is the law. Whether it’s a simple snack or a full meal, it’s about nourishing each other. We sit across from each other, eating and chatting, the easiness of our conversation a testament to the depth of our bond.
Aftercare, for us, isn’t just a series of actions. It’s a testament to our understanding of each other’s needs, a language of love that we speak fluently. It’s in these moments, wrapped in each other’s presence, that I feel most connected to him. Aftercare is where our bodies rest, but our souls converse, where physical intimacy transitions into emotional closeness. It’s the art of lingering in the afterglow, basking in the warmth of shared pleasure and mutual care. Aftercare’s not just an act, it’s a whole love language. Aftercare is pleasure.